#treasured memory archive

[mimok]

Diving for Hidden Gems

As a child growing up in the Middle East, I had the gift of the Mediterranean. Summers stretched endlessly by the sea, with the soft murmur of waves and salt-laced winds painting my earliest memories. We would spend entire days and nights at the beach, diving under the warm, glistening surface of the water in search of treasures buried in the sand. Sometimes we’d find trinkets—jewelry, coins, or…

[realmsethereal]

Basic Tag Drop.

[dangerclaw]

The absolute massacre I’ve discovered in my a03 bookmarks

[viviennevermillion]

love languages

✧ ɴᴏᴛᴇꜱ: hsr debut post, hope this does well. i'm only at chapter 2 part 1 so pls bare we me. (gn!reader), aeons can walk among mortals for this

✧ ɴᴏᴡ ᴘʟᴀʏɪɴɢ: bloom in the dark — emorie

✧ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀꜱ: blade, dan heng, jing yuan, luocha, march 7th, nanook, yaoshi

✧ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: some angst & hint at character death in blade's because i'm still figuring out how to write anything but angst for a character whose main objective is that he wants to die, i had way too much fun making the aeons eldritch

✧ giving: gifts

As much as Blade loved you, as much as he treasured the memories he shared with you and as much as he'd hate to cause you pain or grief; you were all too familiar with his predicament. You had been ever since you agreed to stay by his side, to love him for as long as you had together. That was the price you'd pay for loving a man who considered himself dead in spirits already. A shell of who he once was.

Part of him felt guilty for indulging you; how could he call himself yours when he'd take the exit from his cursed immortality if it presented itself before him tomorrow? How could he promise you his heart if he couldn't promise you a future?

He knew there was a chance he might outlive you by centuries. He knew there was a chance he'd say goodbye to you in a month. Still, you were willing to be with him, through all the uncertainty.

So he gifts you things to remember him by, should he part from you too soon for your liking. Some of them were expensive; after all he had more than enough life behind him to no longer be bound by material limits. Some of them were simple trinkets or flowers he preserved using glycerine. All of them held meaning but the overarching message was: "We were born in different times. If it were for the natural order of things, we never would have even met. I've been suffering since long before I met you. And yet, curiously, despite all; I treasure every moment I had with you. I'm glad to have loved you."

✧ receiving: physical touch

One thing Blade would have never expected when he met you; but was more than glad to realize, was that you could make him forget his anger and pain, even if it was for just a while; even if it always inevitably returned.

He loved falling asleep in your arms. It was the closest thing to the peace and salvation he craved that he could currently have. For just a few hours, he was content. He had forgotten what that felt like.

He loved the feeling of your fingers carding through his long, dark hair. And you loved the smile you so rarely saw on his face when you did this. Blade's breathing would calm and he'd nuzzle your neck as he was being held in your arms.

Blade also loves waking up in the middle of the night, feeling you shift in bed beside him and pressing a few lazy kisses to his lips before he fell back asleep.

He loves the way you tend to his scars, how you seem to wash the pain off his body with your caring touch; despite feeling guilty for how he has made you worry again. You'd end up disinfecting and bandaging his wounds and sometimes he had to chuckle at how you treated him as if he was fragile, despite having likely seen more hardships than you could ever imagine.

✧ giving: acts of service

Dan Heng doesn't really know how to express his love for you at first so he defaults to helping you out however he can.

He helps you with little jobs around the Astral Express and loves to team up with you for any missions or chores that fall on both of your plates.

Especially with all the knowledge he gathered from the archives and basically living in there; he's more than ready to help you figure out any mysteries you encounter on your journey with the Astral Express.

If he needs to explain anything to you or answer a question you have about stuff like the Aeons or any factions you encountered, he'll often pull you onto his lap at the desk and show you important info about it in a book or online. "I hope I could answer your questions. Did this help you?", he then asks you, looking into your eyes. "Yup!", you shoot him a smile and give him a quick kiss to the lips which leaves him blushing and just staring at you for a while.

"Hey, Astral Express to Dan Heng, you still there?", you chuckle and wave your hand in front of his eyes. He just blinks like, twice and then picks you up bridal style: "Come on, let's figure out that task Himeko gave you." He's just trying to distract from the fact that you flustered him.

Sometimes he tries to cook for you. The emphasis is on tries. You'll walk into the train kitchen and he'll be there stirring something in the frying pan and glancing at a recipe. "What are you doing there, love?", you ask and kiss his cheek. "I'm making lunch for you", he states and you hug him. "Aww, that's so sweet of you!", you press a few appreciative kisses to his lips, "wait why does it smell burnt?" "What-"

✧ receiving: quality time

Dan Heng is what we call 'a good listener'. He's not the best conversationalist but he likes to hear you talk and he remembers stuff you told him that even you have forgotten about until he one day just brings it up out of nowhere.

He loves to spend the time between trailblazing expeditions just hanging out with you. You check your phone and receive a text from him like "Hey, want to come over to my room? 🫀"

"?" "March told me that I should add a heart to my messages to make you feel more loved. Did I not do it correctly?" "Dan Heng, sweetie, no..."

You enter his room and he has made you two cups of coffee, the only thing he's actually good at "cooking". The two of you have decided to watch a movie and lay down on Dan Heng's mattress. "I can feel the bones in my back snapping in half, how do you sleep on this?", you raise your eyebrow. "I don't think it's that bad", he mumbles, seeming lost in thought.

While watching the movie, he has his arms wrapped around you. His only opinion about it is "it was good".

Also enjoys playing board games with you, specifically card games. You're pretty equally matched so there's no telling who wins this round. When he wins, you ask him what he wants as a reward and he just gives you a soft smile and tells you a kiss will do.

✧ giving: physical touch

Jing Yuan is a fairly affectionate man behind closed doors. He doesn't leave for work without giving you as many goodbye kisses as you want and doesn't let go of you throughout the whole night while he sleeps. You could get up and grab a glass of water from the kitchen, as soon as you return, Jing Yuan wraps his arms around you once more; even when he's in deep sleep.

He enjoys just sitting idly with you, both of you doing your own things and he's just holding your hand or has a hand resting on your thigh. He also loves when you lean your head on his shoulder and as soon as he feels you do that, he turns his head to place a kiss on your forehead.

Sometimes you'll be reading a book while sitting between his legs and he ends up pressing multiple kisses to your cheek or trailing them down your neck. He smiles against your skin everytime he does this. He's not always seeking to touch you but he has his clingy 10 minutes where he wants attention and sometimes that happens to interfere with whatever it is you're doing at the current moment.

Most of the time you can't resist indulging him and just kissing him for a while, burying your hands in his hair or cupping his cheeks gently.

✧ receiving: quality time

Jing Yuan loves those days on the Xianzhou Luofu that are so peaceful that he gets to spend the entire day with you. You decide to take a nap during noon, falling asleep in his arms, listening to his steady heartbeat. You feel Jing Yuan press a few soft kisses to your forehead while you're dozing off.

When you awake, he's no longer next to you. You get up and find him in the kitchen, preparing a late lunch for the two of you. You wrap your arms around his waist from behind and glance at the frying pan to see him fry some eggs.

You hear a chirping sound and fish a small finch out of your boyfriend's hair. "Don't worry you, we're not grilling your brethren", you whisper softly and put the bird on the windowsill, "fly free, my little friend." The bird lifts off. You raise an eyebrow at Jing Yuan. "Was this the last one?"

He chuckles. "Should be." This at least gives him an excuse to take a bath with you and maybe you'll volunteer to wash his hair. He loves the feeling of your fingers brushing through his hair and just relaxing and letting you pamper him. "You know, if that's what you want, you can just ask right?", you remind him, "you don't need to call your woodland friends for help." Jing Yuan just laughs and gently guides your chin closer to his face so he can kiss you softly.

He enjoys playing chess against you, though you tend to suggest to play a die-based game instead so you can win by having good luck, because Jing Yuan has several centuries of chess practice under his belt. "You know that still doesn't mean you'll win", he watches you unpack the Ludo game with an amused expression. "I have good luck, I got you after all", you say confidently. "Well I've heard an old saying from a distant planet that when you luck out in love it means you have bad luck when it comes to games", he argues and crosses his arms with a smile on his face. You roll your eyes and he responds by kissing your lips.

Sometimes he watches you play chess against Yanqing. "Does it hurt to lose to an 8 year old?", he teases you. "Silence, Jing Yuan, you taught him this stuff." Your lover lets out a laugh. "And yet he still has so much to learn before he can beat me."

✧ giving: words of affirmation

When Luocha loves you, he doesn't hesitate to tell you. After all, his companion in the coffin consistently reminds him that life is short and he better have no regrets, should misfortune strike him tomorrow. Luocha adores you and in his mind, there's nothing stopping him from letting you know.

He's also a bit of a smooth-talker to you and you only. He never gets overbearing with his flirting, but you can expect a few cheesy compliments followed by a kiss to your hand. He'll pick you up for your date, takes your hand in his and leads it to his lips. "You're as beautiful today as the first time I saw you", he smiles and whispers against your skin.

Getting together with Luocha could take ages if you insist in knowing why he's being so suspicious first; but once you do he's ironically an open book for you. He has shared his greatest secret with you and you've given your hearts to one another, so why should he hold back now from telling you what's on his mind?

Sometimes his words are on the nose, such as cupping your cheeks and telling you that he loves you with all his heart or that he wants you to traverse the stars with him from now on. Sometimes the love he has for you is put into telling you how he remembers certain areas around the Xianzhou Luofu as "that place where you surprised me with a bouquet of flowers when we met up for tea" or "that shop where you almost made the coffin fall over". You learn with time that there are a lot of things he associates with you and your memories together.

✧ receiving: physical touch

Luocha loves your affections. He's the least grumpy man ever in the morning. You could wake him up at 3am for kisses and he'd be down for it. He loves when he wakes up and the first thing he feels is your lips on his cheeks or your fingers running through his long blond hair or your fingertips drawing circles on his bare shoulders.

He pulls you into his chest and you can hear his heartbeat while he holds you close. He lifts your chin up and his lips meet yours before he even opens his eyes. He kisses you softly, his tongue circling around yours as he tries to pull you even closer. "Good morning, my love", his voice sounds raspy before he presses a kiss to your cheek.

Luocha loves to take a walk through the city and hold your hand in his while doing so. He doesn't say it but he definitely melts if you stop your walk for a minute just to give him a hug or kiss him gently.

One time you get caught in the rain and Luocha finds shelter for the two of you under a secluded pavillion. You are cold so he wraps his jacket around you and holds you in his arms until the skies clear. He presses a kiss to the top of your head. "Are you still cold, my dear?", his voice sounds so soft and he gently squeezes your shoulder. You shake your head. He lets out a chuckle. "That's good, then", he replies before resting his head on top of yours and closing his eyes for a while.

He enjoys resting his head in your lap while you run your fingers through his hair. You might be busy with something else, not noticing how he smiles up at you like you're the most beautiful thing he's ever seen (you are). He eventually closes his eyes and rests his cheek against your stomach.

✧ giving: words of affirmation

March 7th talks quite a lot, especially if you were to ask Dan Heng about it. So if she's in love with you; her feelings are bound to slip out with her words. It wasn't hard for you to become aware of her crush on you because she just accidentally blurted it out one day. She was so happy when you told her you felt the same; even if this conversation was the furthest thing from planned.

March loves to explore the civilizations you travel to on the Astral Express and buying lots of souvenirs and clothes from there. So sometimes she'll drag you from shop to shop and often finds things she thinks would look good on you. No matter if you're wearing a fancy suit / dress or a 5 credit neon green "I survived the Belabogeyman attack" shirt from a shady souvenir shop, she hypes you up like you're on the front cover of a popular magazin.

"Aw look, you're so cute", she squeals and hugs you from the side, trying and failing to lift you up. There's at least 5 people in the shop staring at you and the shopkeeper glares at March, silently reminding her to keep her voice at an acceptable volume for a public building. "Oops... sorry", she cringes slightly and then turns to you again with a bright smile, "you should totally get this!"

Everytime you enter her room after a trip you find a new photo you took together on her wall. "Look at your smile on this one", she holds one of them up, "it makes me happy whenever I look at it."

Dan Heng told her to stop talking about you all the time so now she talks with you about you.

Definitely tells you she loves you plenty of times.

✧ receiving: gifts

March loves gifts. She's the kind of person who can't wait to open her birthday presents so you guys have to hide them from her every year; preferably somewhere where she can't reach or won't find them.

So when she receives gifts from you for no special occasion, she's gushing so much.

She loves flowers and chocolates. She definitely has a sweet tooth but will still share the chocolates with you. She is very interested in the meaning of the flowers you gift to her so if you can tell her about that, she'll be all the more happy. She loves romantic gestures like this. She has mostly read about them in romance novels and she's more than thrilled to finally receive them herself.

March also adores jewelry, whether you bought something for her or crafted it yourself. She'll wear it everyday and she's very proud whenever someone asks about it.

She posts about the gifts she receives in her status online as well. She'll be like "y/n got me this! 💓💓💓"

She dm's the pictures to Dan Heng as well and he leaves her on read.

When you gift her something, she gives you a hug and a kiss on the cheek before opening it. Once she opened it, she smiles at you brightly and kisses you on the lips. "Thank you so much for this!", she takes your hand into hers and squeezes it.

Receiving gifts from you makes her so happy. But being loved by you makes you feel like every day is her birthday either way. And for you, every day was March 7th.

✧ giving: quality time

Loving an Aeon wasn't the easiest endeavor. Especially not Nanook. But somehow you had touched the destructive god's heart and for the first time since they became what they were today, there was a life they wanted to treasure and protect.

They don't understand much about the human world as it was today, having mostly spent their time on a different plane of existence. It was only when they connected with you and took an interest in you; that they decided to walk among them for a while, to be able to spend time with you. At first their bitterness became apparent every day they spent with you, only scoffing at the people they saw going about their daily life and the things that they had built; which all would be wiped away by destruction if Nanook were to have their way.

But you took that as a challenge. You wanted to see if you could find something they liked about life, unaware that you had become that very phenomenon.

You made it your favorite pastime to show them all sorts of things from the material world and see their reaction to them. "What do you think of this painting?", you ask them, holding up a work of art you got from a market. "I'm not too fond of the sound it makes and the cosmic essence it depicts", they respond with a deadpan expression and you just look at them in confusion, "right, I forgot you can only perceive three dimensions."

Nanook, despite not letting it show, enjoys spending time with you; even though it could be challenging sometimes considering they were an Aeon and you were not. Sometimes they would ask you about things you couldn't see and other times they struggled to discern what things they saw you could pass through and which ones you considered "a wall".

✧ receiving: physical touch

Nanook loves your touch, much as they would like you to never notice that. They're not used to any physical sensations so they're very sensitive. They're unable to form coherent sentences when you so much as press a kiss to their lips. According to them it was very difficult to convey their thoughts in your way of speech when you were "trying to overwhelm them like this"

Giving Nanook affection also proved to be a challenge in more ways than one. The first time you tried to rest your head on their chest, your cheek touched the golden essence flowing out of them and you could perceive what you could only describe as the worst sensory overload anyone has ever experienced; a colorful mix of incoherent screaming and the faint sound of explosions; the feeling of all-encompassing despair and grief.

"What was THAT?", you stared at Nanook in shock, panting. "The entirety of traces left behind by destroyed worlds and ending lives from at least the last couple millenia", they answered very casually. You sighed and held your head, now suffering from a migraine. "At least it doesn't disintegrate me", you took a deep breath and started rummaging through your closet. "Only if I want it to", Nanook explained. "Charming", you whisper to yourself in a sarcastic way and toss them a shirt, "put this on."

Kisses are such a novelty to them. They're like "what was that?"

"Affection." "Do it again."

One time you pressed several kisses to their shoulder and Nanook just slow-blinked at you for like 5 minutes, before resting their head on your shoulder.

✧ giving: gifts

Yaoshi loves to bestow "blessings" upon you. Though, you have to teach them at first what you would consider an acceptable present.

The first one is immortality if you want it. Yaoshi would love nothing more than for you to be by their side forever.

Their next attempts at gift-giving left you feeling a little lost. They manifest before you, excitedly grabbing your cheeks and your waist and your shoulders with their hands and pulling you into a kiss. "My dearest, I made you a creature", they exclaim and reveal a Frankenstein-esque abomination the size of a volleyball. You can't quite discern what it actually is but it looks like an abstract mixture of a hamster, frog and a dragon. "Uh...thank you?", you try to be as polite as possible, unsure what to do with the creature as it spits a smaller version of itself onto your bedroom floor and then disintegrates. "It reincarnates out of itself", Yaoshi explains. "I can see that", you nod with wide eyes, patting Yaoshi's head.

One day, Yaoshi guides your spaceship to a distant location. "This is a planet I renovated for you", they join you as you land and explain their thoughts behind all the different new kinds of flowers they created specifically for you. "You're my greatest inspiration", they kiss your cheek and wrap their arms around you.

You eventually sit them down and calmly explain to them that one planet is more than enough and that you definitely do not need another creature. You teach them about your customs of giving gifts and they listen attentively. Maybe a bouquet of flowers would do next time.

✧ receiving: quality time

Yaoshi wants you to stay by their side forever. They perceive the passage of time very differently from you, yet they treasure and vividly remember every second by your side. Your bond of love is a sacred one in their eyes and they want to feel as close as possible to you.

They especially love talking to you and learning about your experiences that are so vastly different from their own. Despite being so intertwined with life itself; Yaoshi learns so much about life just from being with you. They never would have imagined you could give them so many new perspectives on the universe just by sharing your thoughts and beliefs with them.

Yaoshi always listens to you attentively and you see a sense of childlike wonder in their eyes when you speak about the way you experience the world, the things you value and the memories you treasure.

"Isn't it marvelous; how we see the world through such different lenses and are entirely different entities, yet we love each other so deeply and unconditionally", their voice sounds soft as they pull you onto their lap, holding you with their six arms and planting kisses on the back of your neck repeatedly.

Unlike Nanook, Yaoshi is very clingy. Quality Time with you always involves touching you in some way, be it kissing you repeatedly or holding you tightly within their embrace. Sometimes they sing you to sleep with a gentle voice, running their fingertips over your shoulder.

[acatinabox]

I'm gonna add to my previous post because I've been ruminating on it and there's something else that I found striking about Lucanis and his relationship with Caterina and his family dynamics (and yes, this might be a coincidence, but I still find it interesting).

Grandmothers, in Italian culture, are custodians of the family traditions specifically in regards to food. They preserve and pass on family recipes. It's not unusual to hear people say "this is how my grandma made it", and families collect their own recipe books that sometimes are true archival treasures, with centuries old recipes copied by hand over and over. Sometimes they even pass on cooking tools (I inherited a cake stamp) and spice mixes. The greatest book of Italian cuisine actually references nonna's recipe books as the main source of the Italian culinary tradition. And to many of us, food is strongly associated with memories and remembrance.

It's not always so linear. My grandmas didn't pass on anything to us, there was a break in our family traditions. So my mum stole from others' nonnas recipes and built our family recipes book and we have that to inherit. She made other recipes her own, and she built a treasure for our family.

It's probably a coincidence but I find it metaphorically beautiful that Lucanis too takes it upon himself to take on this role of custodian of tradition for his family both as head of the house and First Talon, and also taking up cooking. His grandma did not have anything to pass on to him but death "I only know death", he says it himself. But he takes it upon himself to break this cycle and to be the person his grandma wasn't. He cooks, nurtures others, learns new recipes from other cultures, he steals them from other families (Emmrich), and maybe one day he will pass it on. I know not many people love that Lucanis becomes First Talon, but I like to think that in the same way, he takes the mantle and one day he starts breaking cycles there too, and making up new traditions and passing them on. He is the best suited for that job, after all.

[thewritetofreespeech]

hello. I read your bg3 marriage headcanons and was wondering if you could do a follow-up on what their first anniversary would be like? also add rolan, even though he wasn't in the original. only if you want to.

BG3 - 1st Anniversary Headcanons

[original ask in question X]

Gale

What does Gale ‘grand gestures are my love language’ Dekarios have planned for your first anniversary? Oh nothing special.

Just all your favorite meals cooked & ready for you. Starting with breakfast in bed. A small, light picnic at your favorite shoreline spot to watch the tides come in and enjoy the sea air. Ending with a romantic candlelight dinner that would put some of the finest Baldurian restaurants to shame.

He gives you a book of love poems as your present. Paper is traditional for the first anniversary after all. It is furthermore inscribed with his own, original poem on the front cover for you.

Astarion

He actually isn’t aware it’s your anniversary. Until he is reminded by someone. It’s not that it’s not important to him. Astarion has just never celebrated one before. How could he, when none of his previous lovers ever even stayed the whole night?

He has to work fast. But luckily Astarion is extremely clever and resourceful.

Playing it off like it was his plan all along to ‘pretend’ to forget, only for you to be further surprised is simply part of his plan. He plays it off so well that you believe him when he tells you that he got you a new necklace because ‘it reminded him of your eyes’. He makes a mental note to remember next year and be more genuine in his efforts.

A!Astarion

Of course, Astarion remembers the day you officially became his. Body, soul, and now legally.

Part of it may just be the celebration of having something that’s his. He hasn’t had anything for so long that he goes overboard. And with you, his most prized treasure, he can’t help it either.

The day, like all your days, is just about the two of you. He has a portrait commissioned for the two of you and commits to having one done every year, so you remember what you look like & how happy you are together. The old ones are kept in an archive below for safe keeping.

Wyll

He’s been looking forward to this day almost as much as getting married to you, the love of his life.

If he chose to stay in the Gate and become the new Grand Duke Ravengard, Wyll will host a ball so that you can celebrate with all those you hold dear. Old and new friends. He has the bard’s college compose a new song to commemorate the occasion, one that he can lead his partner out to the dance floor with and waltz them around all night.

If he went to Avernus to continue as the Blade, they will waltz together, alone, on the stoney rocks of the Hells. While Wyll hums a private tune between them to keep the music going.

Halsin

Halsin isn’t much for ceremonies or constructs of time. Nature and time move hand-in-hand with one another without making much note of their relationship, and he feels that they should do the same.

But…he can appreciate that something like this should be marked & remembered.

He will make time to get away from his duties as ‘Daddy Halsin’ to be a husband for a while; no matter how short it might be. He carves them a beautiful ornament. Something of a remembrance of their year to hang on a tree by their home. Halsin tells them that he hopes, one day, it will be filled with as many happy memories as leaves. The tree growing as with their love for years to come.

+Rolan

Who has time for such frivolities? Rolan has an acclaimed magic shop & literary archive to run, along with the magical commitments he has as the new caretaker of Ramazith's Tower. Surely, as his partner, they must understand that.

Lia gives him an extremely firm talking to about how selfish and narrow-minded he is being. That it’s not just about him anymore it’s about them.

Though Rolan will never admit that she’s right, he does make it up to his spouse. Apologizing to them for being so callous and making an effort to be more ‘traditionally romantic’. He presents them with a single white rose. Enchanted, so that it will never die, never wilt, and never fade. “It will always be as pure and radiant as my love for you. Should I forget to tell you every day, look upon it and remember. Though, I will try to remember to tell you everyday until my last ones.”

[michaela-o]

Hey guys !! Here's a little writing post for tonight since i once again suffer from art block and i couldn't really get my thoughts on canvas so at least i'll write them down for you🥹🫶🏻

I had a little poetic moment about Cybertronians and how each bot from the Lost Light might view humans in their own way. Here’s how i think a few of them might feel, translated into their own brand of poetic musing:

Rodimus

"They’re like embers scattered on a night’s breeze. Small, insistent, daring to claim a spark of the vast unknown. Fragile? Yes, but isn’t fragility the very flame that burns the brightest in the dark?"

I think Rodimus sees in humans a little bit of reflection of himself—bold and driven, yet so often skimming along the edges of destruction. I think he would admire their recklessness despite their short lives and finds in them a kinship, like stars burning out as they fall.

Drift

"With hands of flesh, they reach for the stars, tiny pilgrims, undeterred by dark. They are warriors bound in tender shells, yet their spirits are sharper than any blade."

I think Drift sees humanity’s journey as sacred, an unlikely pilgrimage. Despite their fragility, they pursue wonders that many would fear, displaying a purity of heart that resonates with his own search for purpose and redemption.

Brainstorm

"They are puzzles, equations, broken in ways no theorem can solve. I could build them stronger, make them last longer, stretch their days to years—yet it’s the ticking clock that drives them which we cannot touch, the glitch of life within the code. They’re impossible, improbable—beautifully, infuriatingly unsolvable."

For Brainstorm, i think humans are the ultimate enigma. So imperfect, so baffling, so limited by their biology—and yet, somehow, they thrive. Their existence nags at him, like a problem he can’t quite crack, but one that has woven its way into his circuits.

Ultra Magnus

"They obey no Prime, no order, no code, yet they find honor in dust and devotion in ruin. There is chaos within them, yet in their eyes—clarity. For all their flaws, perhaps they see the law of the universe far better than we."

Ultra Magnus finds himself both exasperated and quietly moved by humans’ defiance of logic. I think he might struggle with their disorder but recognizes the strange beauty in their conviction. They possess a kind of honor that is beyond his ability to define—a law unto themselves.

Chromedome

"Stories woven in short threads of skin and sinew, their lives stitched in seconds, minutes, hours—a blink of a shutter. Yet they carry tales, so rich and raw, that I cannot forget. They are memory incarnate, fragile as newborn spark, but so full of color."

I think Chromedome would treasure humans for their stories, for the vibrant, bittersweet memories they create within the boundaries of their lives. Every moment for them is fleeting, and so they seem to capture life with a vibrancy he longs to archive.

Swerve

"They bumble and fumble, awkward yet bold, finding joy in the smallest things. They laugh in the face of a world so vast—their clumsy courage, a song I want to know by my spark."

We all know Swerve loves humans and human things. I think he sees humans as charmingly imperfect, stumbling yet fearless in a universe that dwarfs them. Their humor and resilience bring a joy that he can’t resist, as if they were a song that lingers in his circuits, warming him in ways he would never expected.

Megatron

"They are the dreamers, the fools, the ones who hope, rebels in skin who believe in the impossible. I have seen it. They build kingdoms on bones and dreams, believing they can change the world."

Megatron is an amazing character in my opinion in the Lost Light universe. I think he looks upon humanity with a blend of scorn and admiration. They are so weak, yet so defiant—champions of hope despite their powerlessness. Their resilience reminds him of what he once fought for, and though he might deny it, he can’t help but see in them a reflection of his own self.

Ratchet

"Flawed and failing, breaking with each breath, they stitch themselves back with their tender hands. They fall, they fail, yet rise again reminding me why I mend the wounded steel."

I really like Ratchet. I like to think he regards humans with a mix of exasperation and reluctant respect even when he wouldn't directly word it. He sees them as frail and imperfect, breaking down as quickly as they heal. Yet, their resilience, their refusal to give up despite everything, is what keeps him caring deep in his spark. In their struggles, he finds purpose, and in their imperfection, he rediscovers his own reason to heal.

I hope you liked this silly little post for tonight. I hope the art block goes away soon so i can draw more silly robots and their silly lil human friends together :3🧡🧡🧡

[nanamimizz-archived]

BLOG ANNOUNCEMENT.

hiii everyone !!! happy sunday 🫶🏼 wherever it is that you are. i have some big news to share with you all and i know it will be met with some questions so i will try my best to answer all of them here in this announcement.

to start off - i am moving blogs. for the past two months or so i’ve had a hard and difficult time being on here as i’ve become hit with the harsh reality that my blog is a mess. i’ve tried to clean it up before in the past but those half assed attempts just made the problems worse than alleviating it. it’s too the point that i really can’t find anything ever and if i am having a hard time doing that i can’t imagine how it must be for others. the second reason why im moving blogs is because this blog feels far too big for me now, i’ve been on nanamimizz for 4ish years and it doesn’t feel like my safe space carved out for me by me.

i will always treasure nanamimizz, and everyone on here for the memories and the growth i’ve experienced on here with you all but i do think i need a fresh start. nanamimizz will not be deleted but simply archived - all my writing will be available and im not sure if my personal posts should be left up or not. i’m still deciding on that.

the new blog is still in the works, and it won’t be released for a bit nor will this move be immediate ! we have until one month from now - on April 23rd for the move !

i will be on a completely different blog with a completely different name. mutuals are more than welcome to dm both on here/discord and ask for the url which is up and i ask you to NOT share it with anyone else, anons who ask for it or other mutuals. to my readers i thank you all for joining on this journey and for finding joy in my craft.

it has been a honor and joy to be your little lamb these past few years and i hope you follow me into greener pastures <3

[thatswhatsushesaid]

i just think jin guangyao's expression while looking at nie mingjue's severed head in the jinlintai treasure room speaks volumes about the depth of his unhappiness regarding, well. everything about this situation. about the circumstances that brought them both to the point where it was nmj's life or jgy's; about the decade of deception required to hide the evidence of this crime; about what he knows this revelation would do to lan xichen, if he found out.

some points for context:

1) he believes he's unobserved, save for nmj's resentful spirit. qin su is incapacitated (which, yikes, but this post isn't about that), paper man wei wuxian is still hidden from view; he has no one to perform or pretend for;

2) this is not an expression of triumph or satisfaction. this is the expression of a man who is both sad and frightened;

in other words, this isn't cruel, heartless, self-satisfied villain behaviour. this isn't zhao jing from 'word of honor' pissing on the memorial plaques of all his murdered sworn brothers while laughing maniacally about outwitting them. this scene has the weight of a graveside visit, if that grave was maybe also a nuclear warhead.

--

this meta has been added to my dreamwidth meta archive: https://thatswhatsushewrote.dreamwidth.org/560.html

[rat-rosemary]

Immortal Techza who decide to pass on and reincarnate so they can meet each other for the first time again and fall in love once more (because Techno, the romantic he is, has a theory that they would find each other on every life that he really wants to test) and they write all their memories and secrets in a bunch of diaries and manuscripts that they hide all over the world so they can find them and have a fun little treasure hunt their next life

They tell no one of the diaries, except their one immortal friend Dream, who is also a romantic so he loves the idea, but immediately sees the flaw that languages can go extinct and paper is very fragile, so he dedicates his next idk how many thousand years to finding the maps and hunting down every single book and carefully archiving all of them and writing academic papers on every artifact and the language so Techno and Phil can actually read their stupid 1000 year old love poems and not just have an untranslatable piece of ripped up paper

[merrinla]

Some dialogues reflect whether you've finished the game. The Dread Wolf Rises quest. And also who you've chosen to lead the distraction team and to dismantle the magic wards. Probably earlier after the finale it was possible to complete unfinished quests.

I didn't record them all, just a few. The rest is in the text.

BELLARA

During The Forest of Spirits quest

in-game line Bellara: What they did, the Evanuris? To us? I can never forgive.

Rook: And you got to show them that—right to their faces. Bellara: Right. That's a memory I'm going to treasure.

in-game line Bellara: A third we give to the sky, to share your story with the sun and moon.

Bellara: Feels weird saying that one after everything that's happened. Bellara: Can't blame the rest of the ancient elves for what Elgar'nan did, though.

in-game lines Bellara: Now I have to live my life. For him. For me. And for our people. Rook: They aren't your problem to solve. You need to live for yourself. Bellara: That's true. There's still lots to do. To change.

Bellara: And even with the Evanuris gone, who knows what'll come next?

Romance scene after the prison of regrets. If the player chose Bellara to dismantle the magic wards

Bellara: Like. Thank you. For saving me, I mean. Rook: You're welcome. Bellara: Okay. Good. Bellara: So. Um. With all that. Bellara: Where does that leave us? Romantically, I mean. Bellara: I sort of tried to kill you. Sorry about that. Feels like it could make things awkward.

Option: You weren’t yourself Rook: Venatori had you under a spell. Not really your fault. Bellara: Okay. Fair.

Option: Little thing like that? Rook: Well, you've saved my life lots of times, so I think this one's a freebie. Bellara: Right. Thank you.

Option: You made up for it. Rook: We took down the gods and saved the world. I think you made up for it. Bellara: Oh! Right. Okay.

Bellara: Um... Um... Ugh. Th— The thing is...

in-game lines Bellara: (Sighs) This is hard. Finding the words, I mean. Rook:  You can do this.

Bellara: When they... changed me. They told me no one was coming. Bellara: They found the part of my heart that doesn't want to be happy. And they fed it. Bellara: But I had faith. In you. Bellara: Deep down. Past the mask. Bellara: Then you found me. And saved me.

Option: I’ll always find you. Rook: I'll always find you, Bellara. No matter what.

Option: I was so worried. Rook: When you were taken... when I thought I'd lost you... Rook: Don't do that to me again, okay?

Option: Just doing my job. Rook: It's what I'm paid to do.

in-game line Bellara: After everything that's happened. That could happen...

Bellara: Even with the Evanuris gone, we don't know what's coming next. Rook: After what you went through, I'd say a little joy is well-deserved.

in-game lines Bellara: I know. But for now, it's nice. Bellara: After everything we've been through?

Bellara: After being brainwashed by Elgar'nan?

Rook: If I can make you feel that way, just a little, then I'm happy. Bellara: Me too.

Bellara: Rook. I, um. There's something I want to say. That I need to say, after... Rook: What is it? Bellara: I'm sorry. I'm being... it's not important.

Bellara: They made me feel lost. Alone. But part of me didn't believe it. Bellara: That part knew you'd find me. Pull me out of the darkness. And you were there. You're still here.

In the Lighthouse

in-game line about Archive Rook: Don't piss it off. Or accidentally bring back a would-be god.

Bellara: We took care of three of them. What's one more? Rook: Seriously? Bellara: I'm kidding! Mostly. Rook: Well, good luck, then.

Bellara: But we took down a god. More than one god, actually. Bellara:  Guess we can say that. Now that it's over. Bellara: We did save the world.

romance line Rook: And I'm glad I saved it with you.

Rook: There was a cost—but we saved the world. Bellara: Right. It did. But we did. Bellara: We'll find Davrin/Harding. I know we will.

if Rook romanced Davrin/Harding Bellara:  Rook. You and Davrin/Harding... I mean, I heard the two of you were... Bellara:  I'm sorry. We're here for you. All of us. Bellara:  Just. Hang in there, okay?

DAVRIN

When Davrin gives the Cauldron quest

Davrin: The Wardens aren't in any shape to deal with this.

EMMRICH

During The Sacrifice of Souls quest

in-game line Hezenkoss: It'll be a relief not to have to deal with those doltish Venatori after this.

Hezenkoss: They've been especially sullen after that eclipse finally stopped.

HARDING

In the Lighthouse after The Heart of the Titan quest

in-game line Rook: So what's next for you?

Harding: I don't know yet. Harding: I'm nowhere close to fully understanding this gift I've been given.

Harding: Now, I was just going to go get a nice warm cup of milk. And maybe a slice of cake. Rook: Cake? I'd be up for some cake. Do we even have cake?

After the Regrets of the Dread Wolf quest. When Rook says that Solas is to blame for what happened to the Titans.

Harding: It's a bit late for that. Harding: I wish we could've talked. Just once. As equals. But maybe he wasn't capable of seeing me that way.

Harding: I wish I could've made him understand what it felt like for the Titans—for us.

LUCANIS

Convo with Zara's corpse

in-game lines Rook: Illario used blood magic to control Spite. How? He's not a mage. Zara: Our risen god gives many gifts.

Rook: Elgar'nan? But he's dead? Zara: The ripples of our actions persist long after the body decays....

During the Inner Demons quest. If Harding led distraction team.

romance line Rook: Harding... Lace. If only you could be real.

Rook: Harding... If only this was real.

During A Murder of Crows quest

Magister Across the Roof: Vengeance for Lusacan! With me, Venatori!

Illario: Killing gods wasn't enough for you, cousin? You need to clean house, too?

NEVE

During A Study of Dock Town quest

Rook: How about this: next time we save the day, the fish is on me. Neve: You want me to bet on suriviving next time?

Romance scene after the prison of regrets. If the player chose Neve to dismantle the magic wards

Neve: Here we are. Rook: You came back. Neve: I had help. Neve: Rook, I... (Laughs) You've got me at a loss. I don't know where to start.

Neve: When we took on the gods, I didn't count on "after." Then there wasn't one. Now there is. Rook: That's a good thing, right? Neve: For now. The breaks don't last forever.

in-game lines Neve: Look, I still can't bet on "after." Not for sure. But I won't live like we're not getting one. Option: I'll always count on tomorrow. Rook: I'll place the bet every time.

Rook: I found you once. I'll always find you. Rook: And I'll face anything with you.

BANTER

in-game lines Bellara: Sometimes, it's easy to forget the ancient elves were mostly regular people, not monster gods. Bellara: And that those regular people were the first to try stopping Elgar'nan and Ghilan'nain.

Bellara: Maybe they were cheering us when we wiped that smug smile off of Elgar'nan. Emmrich: One hopes.

COMPANIONS ROOM

Taash: You see the size of that dragon? And we took it down!

If the player chose Davrin to lead distraction team. Previously, Assan could have survived. Audio

Bellara: Assan. I… tried to whittle this. I'm not very good, but I thought, maybe… you'd like it? Assan: (Happy squawk)

Emmrich: I suppose it's time you had another excursion. Emmrich: Perhaps the Necropolis? No. Davrin would want you exploring the wilds. Emmrich: Harding and I will take you a little later. Assan: (Happy squawk)

Harding: My ma always says we never really lose the people we love. We carry them with us. Harding: You'll remember everything he taught you. All the faith he had in you. All of his hopes. And he'll be with you. Assan: (Squawk)

MINRATHOUS

The Viper: We have our city back. Maevaris: Killing gods? That was the easy part. Now the real fight begins.

The Viper: You'll always have allies here.

Tarquin: Saved the city again, huh? You're making a habit of this. Rook: Hey, it wasn't just me. I had help. You were there too. Tarquin: Just doing what anyone would.

If Rook is trans or nonbinary Maevaris: It's been a difficult journey, hasn't it? Maevaris: Keep your head up, Rook. Know you'll always have friends here.

Rook: How are you? Rana Savas: Now that Lusacan—or Elgar'nan? With him gone... Rana Savas: There's a lot of work ahead, but we'll do it.

Elek Tavor: If it isn't the hero of the hour! Rook: I just get an hour? Elek Tavor: What can I say? News moves fast here. But don't worry, I'll remember you.

Marisa: City's in your debt, Rook. The Shadow Dragons won't forget it.

Venatori Deserter: Did you hear? They took down Elgar'nan! It's over! Erasmus: It's never really over. But we can hope.

Cida Ciconia: It's good to have Minrathous back.

Paper Seller: Divine death sentence denied! Minrathous stands! What comes next?

Paper Seller: Victory in Minrathous!

Dock Town Civilian: Minrathous survived. Scam Artist: Wouldn't have bet on that.

Old Dock Hand: If you can survive Lusacan's wrath, you can survive anything. Young Dock Hand: Heh. Maybe.

Civilian: All right. I've changed my mind about the gravy. It does make some things better. Dock Hand: So... tonight? Civilian: Yeah, bring the gravy.

HOSSBER WETLANDS

Antoine: Minrathous is huge! Evka: I prefer it out here. Quieter. Antoine: Lighter. Everything feels lighter...

Rook: Thanks for coming to Minrathous. Evka: Had to see it to the end. If Harding led distraction team Antoine: Harding—she'd be glad you didn't give up. She never does. If Davrin led distraction team Antoine: Davrin, Assan—they'd be proud. Maybe they are. Somewhere.

Mila: The Archdemons are gone.

Mila: So what will the Wardens do? Holden: Hard to say. I thought we'd stick here a little longer. Help Evka, Antoine, and whoever else is around. What do you think? Mila: Yes, obviously. Lavendel needs some stuff rebuilt. Holden: We can help with that. If Davrin led distraction team Mila: And Davrin and Assan. Holden: They fought to keep the rest of us safe. Mila: Do you think they're just lost somewhere? I heard one of Rook's friends talking. Holden: It's hard to say.

Holden: So, that's it for the Archdemons. Holden: If you told me a few years ago that they'd be gone in my lifetime—and in Mila's—I wouldn't have believed it.

Mila: Rook. You got the last Archdemon!Mila: Dad and I threw a party. We even made cake!

Warden Edwin: Without the Archdemon, my dreams have changed. Warden Rue: I'm going to sleep in.

Flynn: The gods, the Archdemons... you stopped them. Flynn: I felt something change. Sensed it. It was strange.

Warden Greta: No more Archdemons. Or blighted gods. Warden Greta: It's incredible. Rook origin Grey Warden Warden Greta: It feels quieter. You feel it, right?

Warden Rhodri: The Archdemons. They're gone. Forever! Warden Rhodri: You really did it.

ARLATHAN FOREST

Irelin: Where'd Morrigan go? Strife: I don't know, and I didn't ask. She wouldn't tell me, anyway. Irelin: Is she always like that? Strife: She seems to enjoy her reputation—and the chance to embellish it. Strife: A mysterious witch of the wild who swept in, helped defeat the gods, then vanished. Irelin: Yeah, well. I still don't think I like her.

Irelin: (Relieved sigh) Is it really over? I'm afraid to let myself feel normal again. Strife: I'm not sure "normal" ever returns, not when your gods tried destroying the world. But... Irelin: We're alive. And they aren't. Strife: And we live to see another day. Irelin: Try "a couple more decades," old man. Strife: Watch yourself, young one.

Amylia: Look who's here! "Rook the god-killer". Rook: I believe the correct plural would be gods. Amylia: Oh, sure, and there's the big head already. Feeling like a hero. Amylia: Well... you go right ahead. As you should. We owe you a lot.

Amylia They actually pulled it off? The gods are gone? Veil Jumper: They'll be telling stories about this for ages. Amylia Hope they remember the part where Quartermaster Amylia kept everyone's bits and bobs nice and sharp.

Veil Jumper: The gods are gone, so why is the forest still unsettled? Veil Jumper: That much dark magic released? It's going to take awhile to simmer down.

Veil Jumper Sentry: The gods are gone. Maybe things will get back to normal around here again.

NECROPOLIS

Vorgoth: GREAT TERRORS LIE IN THE DARK.

During one of the mourn watchers quests

Irritated Venatori: Why are we here when our risen gods are dead? Venatori: That necromancer we talked to said there's power for the taking.

TREVISO

Jacobus: There's so much to do, and you have even more than we do. Good luck.

THE HALL OF VALOR

Mateo: Rook! There you are! I'm gonna set you up with the god-slayer special.

[ghrgrsfdesfrfg]

I had a lot of trouble writing her story but i hope you'll like it, i'm not satisfied with some part of the story so it will maybe change in the future.

As always, i'm open to critics and tips, if you want to request anything in particular, be my guest !

Credits to @gaziter on twitter for the image, i do not own it.

Massive change n°1, i asked some people and got advice on what to change, i'm making changes to eudora's role and personnality

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Archived information about  ‘‘Eudora’’, the Train Driver

-Experiment 1448 alias ‘‘Eudora’’ was created in 1993 to serve as the train driver of the Game Station to put groups of children and adults on it to drive them around the factory and be the commander of a unit dedicated to logistics in order to deliver equipments to the needed department of the factory.

-She measure 1m60 or 5,2ft in height, her body is almost entirely made of wood while small amount of porcelain were used for her eyes while her hair is a hybrid of yarn and silk giving it a solid yet soft texture.

-Like Baron Bon-Bon she is reluctant to inflict violence but this is due to her traumatic past rather than a side effect of the procedure (although this comes into play as well) however she managed to work through her guilt and fears and is now dedicated to protecting other toys.

Early life:

-Clara cindram grew up in a loving family in a calm neighborhood, her family was known for being the cliché perfect family, this shaped her into an adorable yet slightly timid girl who enjoyed the company of plushies and toys rather than other children. She was doing good at school, her friends liked her and her family loved her with all theirs heart yet this all changed one day.

-One night a robber broke into the house and was taken by surprise by her father who fought with the robber until he was shot which woke up her mother and Clara, both of them were horrified by the scene and were taken hostage by the robber.

-The police was quick to arrive on the scene, and panicking, the robber took Clara’s mother as a prisoner and shot her in an attempt to dissuade the police from advancing on the house instead the robber was taken out by a sniper and Clara was quickly taken by the police and the ambulance.

-Shocked and traumatized after the long and grueling ordeal she was sent to the orphanage of Playcare due to having no known relatives to take care of her, this new environment was difficult to adapt to and the other children made it tough for her.

-She was seen as a crybaby and an easy target for bullies who wanted to take her money, toys or even lunch for themselves. Her only true friend was Thomas Freuer, an older child at Playcare who took care of her and was the only one to calm her down during her numerous breakdown, nightmare or other PTSD induced traumatic episode.

-While at Playcare she would often visit the Game Station with Thomas and would even befriend the Baron who took the girl under his “protection” by often looking after her or offering one of the best reward in the “Treasure Hunt” which was a brass compass.

-She was also in need of extensive psychological treatment due to the memory of the robbery giving her frequent and intense night terrors, psychological breakdowns and severe PTSD, while none of the psychiatrists managed to cure her, she did manage to have less-frequent nightmare and played with other children more often thanks to the encouragement of the counselors.

PROCEDURE:

-She was supposed to be taken for the procedure but Thomas stopped the scientists and offered himself to the utter shock and puzzlement of the staff who was stunned as this was the first time someone volunteered for the procedure.

-His noble sacrifice ended up being for nothing because 3 month later Clara was taken because the scientist wanted to use her to make a Train Driver (because the higher-ups needed a dedicated team to be used as logistics expert) while the counselors were sad to see such a smart child leave the orphanage (some were glad to not have to deal with her mental issues anymore) .

-Her intelligence was a trait of hers which was highly sought after and hoped to be amplified in order to make her a skilled Driver and commander to run the train like a well-oiled machine.

-Her procedure was a success due to the simple materials and her body structure, she could use a mix of meat consumption and rewind mechanism to keep functioning however it took a long time for her to get used to her new body as she kept screaming for her parents or crying for hours at a time, sometime complaining about her lack of lungs to breath or the intense phantom pain she was experiencing.

-After two weeks of constant breakdowns she was forced out of her state by Harley Sawyer and his threats of violence on her if she didn’t start to work.

-Despite the threats she took her training as a Train Driver while being constantly threatened to work better or face the consequences with remarkable speed and serious.

-Harley noted that electric shocks were the best to pull her out of her fragile state and force her to obey the scientists, starvation was also used while rumors of limbs removal also appeared (rumors claimed a random limbs would be chosen and taken then replaced if she didn’t obey although said rumors were denied by Harley Sawyer).

Work for Playtime.Co:

-Her training was rather easy thanks to her understanding instructions rather quickly and efficiently, she was also given some combat training as her rewind key was sharp enough to act as an estoc, she was a very precise and quick fighter with a lot of dexterity.

-She was assigned to the train of the Game Station and used her whistle to tell people when a train was about to leave, she was also in charge of delivering adults, children and sometimes the scientists to their chosen station which included the Lobby, the Game Station and Playcare.

-Driving people was only half of her job, the other half was delivering various goods and equipment to the part of the factory who needed them like the labs or the prison with her team whom she commanded with the precision and efficiency of a general.

-While strict when organizing the train and it’s passenger she had a soft spot for children and would often play with them or let them try her hat whom she was really attached to.

-She would avoid the various scientists but would try to help other toys such as Mommy Long-Legs or the mini-critters by giving them food or toys stolen from the train to try and lift theirs spirits.

-She could start the train via the numerous command in the cabin or her rewind key who was tailored to jump-start the train.

Hour of Joy:

-Heavy involvement as she was horrified by the Hour of Joy but spent a lot of time helping various children and adults escape, she hid them in the shipping compartments while fighting off waves of mini-critters and mini-huggys to distract them and give time for people to get on the train.

-She teamed up with the Baron to escort them to safety and was then hunted down by Huggy Wuggy and Mommy Long-Legs because they perceived her help towards the adults as a betrayal, she hid with the Baron for a while then moved toward Playcare and was later saved by the Rat King who took her with his pack and gave her a home in “the depths”.

-She took down numerous Mini-huggies and mini-critters thanks to her rewind key that she used as an estoc, said massacre of mini-toys earned her the ire of Catnap who tormented her relentlessly with the Red Smoke in Playcare before being saved by the Rat King.

-The Rat King took her to “the depths” an area near the Prison and the Labs in a series of unfinished rooms who served as the Rat King’s small kingdom, she was put there as it was far away from any toys seeking revenge on her.

-The King also took care of her mentally thanks to various music boxes and tape recording voices of children who spoke of her and how amazed they were of her, she was in a much better place mentally than her orphan days but the weight of all the toys she killed despite saving numerous people brought back her strong survivor guilt.

-Her survivor guilt first appeared after surviving the robbery and was amplified after the Hour of Joy, despite saving lots of people she felt guilty about killing the toys who tried to harm the people on the train.

Design and abilities:

-Her body is made of wood, using wooden balls as joint for her legs and elbow which made it possible to turn any of her limbs at 360° at will, her hair was a delicate mix of yarn and silk making it solid yet majestic and soft.

-Curiously, her legs were pointy and presented no feet or ankles to speak of, just two pointy ends which to inexperienced people made it difficult to use but but gave incredible mobility and balance to whoever knew how to use them.

-Her insides were divided between a simple digestive system and a rewind mechanism to function in case no meat was available, if she wasn’t re-winded she would be in a state between shutdown and sleep.

-Her outfit is reminiscent of old-school train employees while her colors weren’t as flashy or childlike as other toys like Mommy or the Baron, giving her a somber red and dark-brown color who marked her as more important and experienced than an entertainment toy.

Trivia:

-Before becoming the Train Driver, her only friends were Thomas Freuer, Baron Bon-Bon and a teddybear she took from her home, children at Playcare often stole it from her or damaged it much to her sadness.

-Her mouth as the Train Driver cannot move like a normal human and instead only go up and down, forcing her to use her eyebrows to make any meaningful expression like joy, anger, sadness and many more.

-When she wasn’t working or needed to drive people around, she was often seen holding her hat in a mourning position, she would also be seen playing with other toys or talking with the Baron and Mommy.

-The Baron took an immediate liking to her due to her fragile state, she was gifted a Brass Compass from him and took care of it ever since, she was also a huge fan of his game and would often come to the Station only to play his game.

-Thomas Freuer was often seen reading to her or playing games like Hide and Seek or watching puppets show with her.

-While she was afraid of the scientists she often opposed parents who were too harsh with other toys or children.

-The Star insignia on her hat and chest were made by the Rat King at an unknown date while the 3 others were earned after significant milestones in her logistics career such as having delivered 100 cargos in the factory or handled difficult equipment numerous time without needing a special team.

-Eudora harbored a deep fear of electricity because of the treatment used by Harley Sawyer to force her to work, whenever the train malfunctioned or something broke due to electricity she would hide in the cabin of the train and wait until it worked again.

-When it came to food she was a fan of burgers and various junk food, however her favorite drink was orange juice, she would also ask to eat chicken and vegetables when junk food wasn’t possible.

-Somehow contact between her and the Rat King was made and his fury was such when he found out that Clara was indeed Eudora that he killed 4 employees in front of her and went on a rampage in the prison before being subdued, imprisoned for 2 days and asking to see her.

-During the Hour of Joy she fought against Huggy Wuggy when she was escorting adults and children to safety, while she couldn’t do any real damage she managed to delay him enough for a lot people to escape to safety.

-The scientist were intrigued by her drastic change of personnality from a cry-baby to a serious and dedicated commander, she would only say she wanted "to do good and help whenever she could".

-Despite her strictness regarding the train, her team came to love her thanks to the caring side she would show to a child or toy in need of comfort.

-Amazingly, she didn't sustain many injuries despite fighting Huggy-Wuggy for a prolonged period of time.

-After being saved by the Rat King she was placed in charge of half of his pack for the protection of his kingdom, organising patrols and supply runs.

-A picture of her damaged state after her fight with Huggy-Wuggy

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

[shrillow]

Winter Flowers - Ch 3

sylus x reader; dragon!sylus x human sacrifice!reader

Ch 1, Ch 2, Ch 3, Ch 4

NSFW: gore, smut, cunnilingus

You spend the winter in the dragon’s lair. 

At first, neither of you seem to know what you’re doing. Where to start.

Shall he begin with the dead languages of a people whose last descendants no longer walk the earth? Will he show you the fashions of the world? Should he recount the doctrines of the hundred religions he knew? Perhaps he still possesses those old star maps which sailors once used to brave the seas?

In the end, Sylus begins with a story. Many stories. Whatever your hand brushes—an instrument, a piece of furniture, a weapon—he unravels its history with the steady, patient rhythm of his voice.

“It was an heirloom passed down through a royal bloodline that ruled two thousand years ago . . .”

“The fae believed that sword was forged by a sun god when he was banished to the mortal world . . .”

“This was a popular instrument used for herding sheep. You place your fingers over these holes and blow here . . .”

From sunrise to sunset, the dragon recalls the stories of things with eidetic precision. To your delight and amazement, Sylus has a seemingly limitless memory. And despite the spontaneous nature of your lessons, the dragon is a surprisingly good teacher.

“Only because you’ve proven yourself to be a prodigious student.” The affection laced through his words softens his smug grin.

You blush and bury your nose back into the astronomy text you’re translating.

Nights in the cave are your favorite, for you and dragon select a book from his expansive collection and read together.

Sylus’ tail loosely curls around you while you decipher a collection of mariners fables. Something about a sea serpent who’s hunting a group of sailors after they stole a legendary treasure from it—a brooch? The interpretation is frustratingly vague.

It’s slow work, and the ink has either faded or smeared, but you persevere through the ages it’s endured to be read by you.

The dragon corrects you occasionally, but otherwise is content to rest his head in your lap.

Through the night, your voice fills the cavern, drowning out the winter noise. So engrossed in the book, you don’t notice when Sylus grows quiet.

You glance down to see if he fell asleep, only for you to catch him staring at you. His gaze is honey in the light. Skin like the golden shade of the wheat fields. Even his silver hair seems to catch fire and all his sharp edges are burned down to something tender.

You have not touched each other since the rut, and you dare not now. Why would you? You are not his mate.

Oh, but it’s moments like these, where time turns to liquid and the earth quiets until it’s just your and the dragon’s hushed murmurs, when you want to melt into him and never leave.

How long can you pretend? At least one more night.

“Why’d you stop?” he murmurs, “Are you bored?”

You shake your head. “I just lost my place.”

Sylus lifts himself up, and you mourn his closeness until he gently grasps your hands beneath the book. “Would you like me to take over?”

You ignore the way his thumb circles your knuckles. “Only if you teach me the rest tomorrow.”

His next words leave a dull ache in your chest.

“I’ll teach you everything I know.”

So as the world darkens to its last season, and the snow quietly gathers outside your alpine sanctuary, you and the dragon weave a tapestry of the universe, of everything that once or continues to sleep below the ageless stars.

Sometimes, your mind wanders back to the village. To your siblings and father. To Tara. Not because of some longing for those sleepy huts and worn fields. Only because that is the nature of memory, and as all these treasures that pass through your searching hands inevitably remind you of them.

“Tara would love this.”

You flip through a manuscript on herbology, searching for a more effective salve for Sylus’ injuries. You recognize only a handful of the plants mentioned, Tara would know at least half.

Sylus’ tail flicks out. “Who?”

“My friend,” you elaborate, “She’s a healer. She knows every plant in the valley, when they grow, which ones work together and which don't.”

You grind the dried herbs Tara had stuffed into your bag before you left. She’d almost given you her entire stash, even though those same plants would not be seen again until spring. You're grateful for her generosity as you peel back the dressing and gently clean the dragon’s wounds.

His injuries are surprisingly slow to heal. It may be weeks yet until his full strength returns. You suspect it is due to whatever magic the bounty hunters used to subdue him. The very thought makes your blood boil every time.

“Why were those men after you?” you ask Sylus. You force your hand to steady as you apply the new salve.

He tries to look over his shoulder at you, only to pull at the stitching. “Ngh. I thought you would’ve guessed by now, sweetie.” He holds up a bloody bandage. “Healing blood, remember?”

The answer does not sit well with you.

“And the collar?”

“Useless runes and mage tricks,” he sneers, “I’ve broken every one they’ve put on me.”

Images of the dragon collared flash through your mind. You’re extra gentle when you clean around his neck. “How often do they come?”

“A couple times a century.” He shrugs. “It’s to be expected. Dragons are a valuable commodity.”

Your hands pause over his skin. “What do you mean?”

“Our blood heals. Our scales make excellent armor. Witches use our tears to brew love potions.” You stare at him horrified. Sylus just smiles. “I was once told our livers are boiled to a paste to reverse one’s aging.”

“You’re just messing with me now.”

“I haven’t even gotten to my best parts.” His eyes take on a sudden, unmistakable heat. 

Only Sylus would joke about something like that. Regardless, your face starts to burn.

Sparks fly from his mouth when he laughs. “It’s nothing to worry about, sweetie. They would have to kill me first, and I’m very difficult to kill.”

Perhaps it’s the trick of the light, a dance of shadows, but the red veins on his chest catch your attention as he heaves with laughter. You swear that they have shifted closer to that hollow above his heart.

Difficult, you worry, but he never said impossible.

-

You and Sylus discover your affinity for music.

He presents you with a zither, a fiddle, hand drums, and panpipes. He gifts you sheet music and ancient canvases depicting grand banquets so you can study the hand placements of the musicians who were painted into the scene.

Most of the time, however, you learn by trial and error, copying from the simple melodies you learned in childhood. You hum those tunes to yourself, plucking at your pipa until you strike the right notes.

“You have a good ear,” the dragon compliments, “have you played before?”

“No, but I sing,” you tell him, “mostly to calm the herd. My father played the lute, but it broke and he never bothered to fix it.”

Your focus drifts to the pipa in your hands. A couple strings are missing, but with some tuning, the remaining ones ring out clear and strong.

“Do you miss him?”

You stare at Sylus. He works on a strange contraption, various tools and something he calls a magnifying glass sprawled before him.

You follow your father across the hills as he plays a tune to guide the flock back to the village for shearing and butchering. You listen to his easy strumming as you fall asleep by the hearth. You hear its strings snap under your brother’s young fingers.

“Not in the way I should,” you say.

Sylus looks up. “There’s no wrong way to miss a person.”

“Is there someone you miss?”

The question catches both of you off guard. 

“Sorry,” you amend, looking away, “I shouldn’t pry.”

Sylus doesn’t say anything at first. He fidgets with the object, turning it over and over while silence permeates between you.

“The music stopped,” he observes, “could you play it again?”

A few days later, you find the device he was working on in your room. It’s a mechanical bird, with articulating metal wings and a beak that can open and close with a twist of a gear. Its eyes are the same shade as yours.

-

Tell me what you desire.

His eyes are fountains of truth, pouring with the ageless, nameless, and forgotten. Waiting for some soul to drink from its waters.

Take what you want.

Is it that easy? You open your hands and feel them grow heavy with the weight of this world.

Do you want more?

You bring your hands to your mouth and sate yourself until you are bursting.

Poetry, music, medicine, dragons.

How strange to think that you were scared to plunge beneath the surface. What might you find? What might you unleash? Only to find that it is a bottomless well; the more you consume, the deeper it becomes.

Not all of it is good—of course it’s not.

War, disease, tyrants, curses.

You recognize the beauty, the cruelty. And as any true glutton, you drink more in the hopes of understanding it.

Selfish girl.  Your mother's ring leaves a scar on your cheek as she strikes you. Wanton daughter.

When Sylus offers you starlight from his hand, you hesitate.

“I thought dragons were possessive creatures.”

“I was unaware that generosity would damage my reputation," he quips, “Won’t you at least try this on for me, Dear Shepherd?”

Shimmering diamonds of various sizes are fastened to a silver chain. Fractals of light splash onto the walls. Only the river that passes through the valley has sparkled so magnificently.

“We don’t wear jewelry in the village.”

Jenna’s pendant dangles near your face as she reads to you. You watch your reflection in its scarlet body. Your village boasts no riches and disdains all vanity. But Jenna—

It is her greatest treasure. It is her only treasure. Yet, sometimes you catch her grasping the pendant like a knife to her chest.

Sylus considers you for a moment, a small cluster of lights glint in his eyes. “Then it’s a good thing we’re not in the village.”

Sylus turns you around. His breath caresses the back of your neck as he secures the necklace. “There,” he breathes, “beautiful.”

Your mouth is painfully dry. “It’s heavy.” 

“Beauty should not be taken lightly.” His hand twitches—you think he’s going to touch you—but Sylus bends down instead, hovering over your shoulder like an owl.

“It’s yours if you want it.”

“I shouldn’t.”

“Why not?” His gaze drinks you in. “This was once a betrothal gift. A man promised his beloved that he would fashion a necklace from the heart of a star.”

“Very romantic,” you hum, “but was the price worth it?”

“I’m sure the star didn’t mind,” Sylus reassures, “they don’t have feelings, after all.”

One beauty for another. The whole earth is merely an appetite to satisfy. What are you within ouroboros’ hunger? The eater or the eaten?

With the dragon looking at you the way he does, you feel like you are both.

-

Your chamber slowly fills with trinkets.

New bedding, chests full of garments, bronze mirrors, all sorts of musical instruments, and towers of books.

"Even the greediest dragon would be impressed by your hoard," Sylus comments, but he never asks for anything back. Nor does he demand for something in return.

You understand sacrifice. You are descended from those who brokered a deal with an ancient power and irrevocably bound your fate to him thereafter. He is owed your soul, your body. And yet . . .

You stand beside Sylus before a grand tapestry.

“What is this?” you ask him.

“The world,” he replies, “at least some of it.”

Your mouth falls open. Continents and oceans are rendered from thousands of dyed threads. Even the borders are lined with gold patterning. Artistic portrayals of various plants and creatures fill the bare spaces. Foreign words hover across specific parts of the map.

“Where are we?”

“Not here,” he says.

You trace your hand down the old weaves, frowning at his words. “Did my people come from these lands?” As you examine map, your attention catches on a set of words floating above a strange looking animal. “What does this say?”

A strange expression crosses his face. “‘Here be dragons.’”

You realize the creature beneath the words is supposed to be a dragon, but it’s no dragon you’ve ever seen. Triple-headed, slavering, and grotesque. No expense was spared in portraying the dragon as a beast.

“You’ve been alone a long time, haven’t you?”

He doesn’t deign you with a response.

He claws at his skin. He fights against a fever that will ravage his body until all he knows is the mark that claims you as his. You have never known a creature more hateful towards its own nature. He told you several times that you could leave; you think he wishes you did, but not for the reasons you think. 

“Sylus,” you choose your next words carefully, “Why did you make the deal with my ancestors if you were just going to let us go?”

A stillness ensnares the both of you in a kind of limbo, tethering you to a precipice you’re not sure you would survive.

“Do you think I would force you?” His voice is the current in the air before a lightning strike.

You aren’t under any delusion that he isn’t capable of violence, however, you’re not prepared for his anger—

No. Not anger.

His body is coiled tight, brow furrowed and eyes so dark and red like gaping wounds. When your hand searches for his, he retreats as if you are a pair of dancers forbidden from touching.

“Of course not,” you tell him, meaning it.

You think he might answer you, but then he hesitates, and you know you’ve lost him. “Then you need to stop.”

His words feel like a brand.

“If you don’t,” he continues, “you’re not going to like the answers.” 

-

Sylus doesn’t talk about what happened. Neither do you.

The dragon speaks in offered books and mechanical gifts, through muted smiles and old literature.

His quiet touches lessen. His lingering gaze fades.

You hold your silence like a noose around your neck.

You miss the Sylus who clutched you in the dark, helpless with need. Who kissed your scars and named you huntress. Who could not pretend that he was a thing without feeling. 

Only in the secret hours after midnight do you let yourself imagine tiptoeing into his chamber and slipping into his nest, allowing his body heat to close around you like a summer day.

From outside, just before sleep catches you in that lovely dream, you hear the baying whine of something suffering, some creature dying.

-

The weather eases; you explore the mountains with Sylus.

He shows you glades that hide the best views of the valley. He takes you to waterfalls from which you drink the freshest water you’ve tasted. You meander through the woods at sunset when the light turns the snow pink and orange. You can see the lake and a herd of caribou making their way across the open plains. You’re too far away to be of any concern to them. Meanwhile, the dragon ambles by your side, scoffing at your jokes and flicking snow at you.

You ask him no more questions about the past. It turns to smoke when Sylus’ eyes settle on you. He plucks a winter camellia and threads it into your hair. 

“I’ve read about this before,” you say as you gather twigs and start weaving a crown.

His eyes flash. “Oh?” 

“A knight gives a flower to a princess.” You creep toward him until your coats brush and your breaths mingle in the cold air. “She tells him to take her back to the palace . . .”

His tail brushes your leg. “And?”

You toss the crown onto his horns. “Then she asks him to make her mooncakes!”

Sylus’ laugh echoes wonderfully through the mountains. You wish you could bottle the sound.

He brings you out in the evening when the skies are clearest, and he points out all the constellations.

“To the west is the Tortoise, it shares a star with the Old Fisherman. And over there—a bit higher—is the Tiger and the Crane . . .”

You stay up well into the night listening to the dragon spin tales from memory. With his head tilted to the heavens—face open and white hair glowing with the light of the full moon—it reminds you strangely of Tara.

You shiver as a sudden gust barrels up the mountain.

“Cold?” Sylus brings his coat tighter around you. With a snap of his fingers, a flame flickers to life in his palm.

“Thank you.” You sigh at the warmth. “That’s a pretty neat trick.”

Sylus hums in agreement, though his mood turns melancholic. “I learned it from a witch.”

“That’s something you needed to learn?” You raise an eyebrow.

“Dragons are creatures of magic. All magic is a matter of patience,” he explains, “and will.” A hesitant smile begins to form. “I believe you have much of both.”

Your heart flutters. “Do you really think . . . ?”

Sylus stares at you incredulously. “You could call down the stars if that is your desire.”

There’s that look in his eyes—an unwavering intensity you’ve only seen glimpses of since the rut—before it’s gone again.

“Besides, it’s a useful skill to know when you leave,” he goes on, “people will be disinclined to mess with a girl who can wield fire.”

-

You don’t notice it at first. How can you, when you spend every day with the dragon?

You are removing the last of Sylus’ bandages when you realize how dull his scales have become.

After that, you notice everything else.

There are bruises under his eyes when he reads to you at night. His hair has lost its luster. The red veins on his chest glow brightly as if inflamed.

Valley-born that you are, you’re unfamiliar with the signs of starvation.

His indifference vexes you. It terrifies you.

You’re paranoid that Sylus will disintegrate from your very touch. You are one sleepless night away from wringing all his dreadful secrets from his throat.

Fear. What a violent animal.

The dragon guards his silence and pretends that nothing is wrong.

-

You watch him with his automatons, tinkering away at their intricate joints and handmade gears. You follow the curve of his back as he hunches over his worktable, lost in his craft. It’s so human. 

You can’t help but stare at his profile. His lips are slightly parted; you want to rediscover the shape of them, find common ground between soft skin and stilted breaths. The light behind him casts a golden halo around his head. It reminds you of sunsets in the valley, how the mountains’ silhouettes are carved from the brilliant hues of a dying sun.

How beautiful. How unreachable.

Although you’re grateful for everything he shares with you—the more you learn about the world, the more questions you have about the dragon himself.

How did you learn this? Where did you acquire it?

Why did you come here? Why do you remain?

The answers to your questions cannot be found in a book.

You pore over mythology texts, bestiaries, religious anthologies, and epic poems. All are more or less the same.

An evil dragon terrorizes a kingdom; a monster kidnaps the princess; a winged serpent tricks the hero into killing his beloved. 

You open a hunting manual on a whim, but immediately regret picking it up.

‘A dragon’s underside is the softest part of their body. As such, make your first incision under the jaw. Continue slitting around its mouth, then down the stomach. Now, you can begin peeling back its skin—’

The words sink into your flesh like rot. You slam the book shut.

You think you know why Sylus has been alone all this time. Why he will always be alone.

-

The dragon is not yours.

Stitch stitch stitch.

Yet, he comes to you when his wounds have torn open. You strip off his ruined cloak and don’t question it.

He has given you—books, tools, jewelry, and music. He has given you himself in the only way he can.

It’s enough it’s enough it’s enough.

You thread a needle through his skin. It feels like sacrilege.

His long fingers grasp your shaking hand, warm and unafraid. It feels like worship.

“You could never hurt me.”

A dragon’s roar is swallowed by the violent storm. Nothing warm-blooded can survive the cold.

The spot beneath your ear tingles.

“Sometimes I want you to hurt.” 

His gaze does not waver. “I won’t stop you.”

Tell me of your shame, you want to say to him, as I have told you mine.

“Are you dying?”

“If only fate were that kind to me.” His mouth twists into a mockery of a smile that quickly evaporates when he sees your stricken expression. You wait for him to say more; he doesn’t.

Oh, he might give you the world, but he cannot give you this.

You gather his tattered old cloak, torn and bloody, and neatly fold it in your lap. It is good fabric. You want to believe that you can fix it.

“I will leave come spring,” you tell him.

Sylus’ expression is indecipherable. He strokes the back of your hand, committing every vein and knuckle to memory. “Then we mustn’t waste our time together.”

-

One night, when the sky is tinged a deep purple, you glance down into the valley and notice the blazing lights of your village.

You motion to Sylus. “Look.”

Several dozen lanterns drift into the night sky while music trickles up the mountain. Although you cannot see the villagers, you know they’re gathering in the town center for the dances.

“I can’t believe it’s already the new year,” you breathe. If you close your eyes, you can almost smell the sweet tarts you and Tara made together.

“Is that what you’ve been celebrating,” Sylus muses, “I wondered what all that noise and revelry were for.”

You turn to him, realizing that the dragon has been watching your village celebrate for the last thousand years without knowing the reason. Has perhaps sat alone on this very ledge to watch the lanterns pass over his head and the festivities down below.

“Stay here.”

You scurry back to the cave to retrieve your pipa.

His tired eyes settle on you when you return. Even now, you want him. Whatever is left of him. Whatever will remain after tonight, even if it falls away like water through your fingers come morning. You will remember him like this: snow in his hair, phantom smile, and bleeding gaze heavy with all the things he cannot say.

You press your fingers to the strings, and begin to sing.

-

He comes to you at night.

You gasp when you blink awake and see his silhouette above you.

He wordlessly slides in behind you, under the furs. It is muscle memory when his arms snake around you and his face finds the crook of your neck. He carries the scent of pine and woodsmoke and . . . something sharper. His skin is hot to the touch as you press your hand against his chest and prompt him to look at you.

A faint tendril of red mist spills from the corner of his eyes.

“Do you want me to leave?”

His voice sounds like cracked glass.

Without a word, you guide him back down until his skin is against yours. You would savor this moment if sleep did not find you all too soon, even as the air smells faintly of blood.

-

There comes a day when Sylus slips off into the mountains and does not return. 

You suspect the worst.

The winds are fierce, but your will is iron. You trace his path down the mountain and through the trees, listening for the beat of dragon wings.

You call his name but all you receive is the mountain’s echoing response. The snow and wind beat against you, punishing your determination.

You trudge through the forest past sunset, until the moonlight casts the woods in a lonely grey. Still, you find no sign of the dragon.

Did he really leave? Did hunters get to him?

One fear after another hurtles through your mind, urging you farther and deeper into the forest. You brought your spear, having learned from experience that predators have no issue encroaching on the dragon’s territory.

What else did your village get wrong? What would happen to your people if Sylus could no longer protect them?

What would you do if you cannot find him?

A violent heat pulses from your nonexistent mating bite. Your legs and face are numb, and you can barely see in front of you.

You snap your fingers, whispering a word of power just as Sylus taught you. Sparks fly off your trembling fingers. You try again and again until the smallest of flames swells to life amidst shadow and snow.

You can only maintain it for a few more moments before your foot catches on something and you crash to the ground.

The flame gutters out. The winds wail through the barren trees. You lift your head, wipe snow off your face. You look back to see what made you fall and you scream.

The unseeing eye of a caribou stares back at you. Its blood oozes from the gashes along its body and pools beneath your hands. Still warm.

You stagger to your feet, and nearly trip again over another carcass.

An entire herd of reindeer lie in mangled puddles, slaughtered in the dozens. Steam rises from their bodies. Torn limbs and viscera stain the once spotless snow.

Just like the sheep.

You grip your spear until your knuckles turn white, the grain of the wood biting uncomfortably into your skin.

The trees close over you like the bars of a cage, their shadows smothering out light and sound. You cannot see where you came from.

Between the trees, you see the dragon. But everything about him is unrecognizable to you.

Sylus crouches over a carcass, tearing and consuming its flesh with razor-like teeth. Black spikes jut out from his skin. He’s elbow-deep in gore and red smoke spills from blood-bright eyes when he spots you.

You run.

-

His screams shake the mountain.

You hide in the dark with your spear, keeping watch outside the dragon’s lair.

You wait for days. You wait long after his cries have died out.

You should leave.

The thought pecks at your mind.

The dragon will not return.

You stare out across the mountains as another storm rolls in. Snow gathers in a frenzy, the world so bright your eyes sting.

The dragon is mad.

You read one of Sylus’ books to distract yourself.

The dragon is a liar.

He emerges from the whiteout like a spectre. He is as you remember him, a quiet ancient power exudes from his decaying body. But when he stumbles upon seeing you, you see his mortification.

“I thought you would have left already.”

Your grip tightens around your spear. “You killed my flock.”

He does not deny it.

“Is that why you’ve remained,” he asks, “to extract my apology?”

Your nostrils flare. “I would have the truth.”

“It will ruin you.”

You regard the dragon. Does he think you are a child in need of protection? You are not so feeble-minded, you never have been. He allowed you to believe that he was sick, that he was dying—and even after seeing the worst of him, he resists. So you will force his hand.

You unsheathe the dagger he gifted you, and slice it across your arm.

The dragon springs toward you and freezes. Red mist pours from reptilian eyes, his claws extend and his skin splits to reveal mangled spikes. Sylus’ knees dig into the earth as he collapses and emits a vicious growl. The red veins writhe across his chest.

You quickly wipe the blood away and press a thick bandage to the cut. “You didn’t just need a mate,” you whisper, “you also needed blood.”

Sylus bows his head. “Abhorrent, am I not?” His distorted voice slices through the air, guttural and raw. The red mist dissipates, his scales slide back under his skin. “How do you feel knowing you’ve bedded a monster?”

Monster. What a cruel word.

“I would not forsake you for this,” you say.

His eyes flutter before they harden in disbelief. “One second,” he threatens, “is all it would take to raze the entire valley.”

Tara and your family flash through your mind. You take a steadying breath. “But you haven’t yet.”

“I found a way to delay it.” With a mate. With blood—your blood.

There’s something else he isn’t telling you.

“Why did your rut come early?” 

He’s quiet for so long, you think he might turn and fly away for good. Until he admits, “I didn’t take her blood before she left.”

“Why not?” you press, “What happened last time?”

The look on his face will haunt you for years to come.

“They sent me a child.”

-

The dragon steals glances at you, waiting for you to speak—to leave—anything. He moves as if to touch you before thinking better of it.

He anticipates your censure, but you cannot find the words to reassure him.

“Only those who’ve had their first blood can be chosen.”

“I know.”

Your blood continues to soak the bandage, though you barely feel the injury’s sting.

“What did you do?” you ask.

“I took her across the lake, and told her to never return to the valley,” he answers.

Your village never spoke of the last girl who was chosen, and you, like a sheep, never asked. Never wondered about their lives until your fate mirrored theirs. How could your village send a child up the mountain to be his mate believing what they do about the dragon’s brutality? 

You don’t realize you’re crying until Sylus wipes your tears away. “I never harmed any of you. I swear it.”

He looks as distraught as you feel.

“I believe you,” you rasp, and he sags with relief. “But Sylus. Couldn't you have returned her? Demand we choose someone else?”

His expression shudders with pain. “The last time I did that, they put her to the torch, convinced that she disappointed me.”

You feel sick.

Memories of the harvest season. Children’s games. The mead hall’s lively music and Josephine’s patient guidance as she walks you through a new embroidery technique—

“I am sorry.” 

—All tarnishes as Sylus kneels before you. He seems to be the only solid thing keeping you anchored to this moment. Diminished as he is. Self-named monster that he claims to be. “You deserved to know before I ever placed my mark on you.”

Remorse darkens his face when he glances at your bleeding arm. You see his hunger. Sylus takes a sharp breath before he retracts a claw and prepares to cut his own palm. His hands shake.

And you—you cannot resent him for withholding the truth. Not when it takes everything he has to resist the bloodlust.

Would a monster cut himself for someone else? Would he yield when told to stop? Would he teach you how to chart the stars? How to speak an ancient language? Would he read to you long into the night, or ask you to play that song one more time?

You stop him before he can draw blood. A bewildered, helpless expression crosses his gaunt face.

“I am already cut,” you say, raising your arm to his mouth, “Why let it go to waste?”

-

His strength returns. The red veins retreat.

You lie in his nest, sleepy and surrounded in his warmth.

“Is there any way to fix it?” you ask the dragon, “This—this bloodlust?”

He sighs and shakes his head. You press yourself against him in a way you haven’t since the rut. 

Who cursed you?

The question sits heavy on your tongue as you follow the haloed edges of his lean body. Hard and soft in equal measure. Violent and innocent.

You press your hand over the hollow of his chest. “Did any of them stay with you, Sylus? The way I had?”

He swallows.

“You’re the only one.”

-

You stare down into the valley. For a village of inconsequential size, it casts long shadows across the white expanse.

They sent me a child.

The dragon may have lied about the sheep, but your village elders—well—what more did they lie about?

You cannot let it happen again. But if you return to the village, would your family and neighbors heed your words, or would they put you to the torch as well? What would stop them from sending another little girl up the mountain?

By the time Sylus' rut returns and his bloodlust needs to be sated, you’ll be nothing but rot beneath the earth.

Your neck burns from the very thought when you hold up the finished cloak to Sylus.

“I’ve made some repairs. Do you like it?”

Sylus cautiously takes the cloak, examines the patched holes and new fur lining with round eyes. His fingers run along your even stitching, stopping at your embroidery. An elaborate pattern of wildflowers and knotwork Elder Josephine taught you long ago.

“I hope you don’t mind,” you say, “I also replaced the old fur with the wolf’s pelt. It should be much warmer now.”

As if the dragon has to worry about the cold. You mentally shake yourself as Sylus slips the cloak over his shoulders, surrounding himself in a field of flowers.

“Your skill knows no equal,” he praises, halting your train of thought. He bites his lip, looking uncharacteristically rueful. “I will probably ruin it again.”

“Then I will mend it again.”

And again and again and again.

A light blush tinges the edges of Sylus’ ears. You watch him smooth down the collar of his cloak, and the memory of the hidden words you embroidered there flash in your mind.

You glance away. “Think of it as something to remember me by.”

In a hundred years, the next woman may find a trace of you here, and know there is nothing to be afraid of.

-

You find yourself staring across the lake more often. Dreaming. Planning.

You have studied the maps, languages, and histories. But there is only so much you can learn from a book.

You spot Sylus some distance away, crouched low. His hair blends in with the snow. He extends a hand towards a fox peeking out from the underbrush. It snarls at the dragon before scampering away.

Something in your chest twists. It's a familiar sensation, so why does it hurt so much more now?

What you're leaving behind feels larger than what's ahead of you.

When Sylus notices you across the clearing, his regal horns shimmering in the winter sun, you think you will long for him forever.

He crosses the distance between you, and says simply, “Thank you."

“You're welcome,” you reply, because you know what he means.

Sylus leans down until your foreheads nearly touch. “May I?” he asks. When you nod, you feel his mouth brush your temple as he inhales deeply. “Your scent haunts my dreams.”

Your breath quickens.

“What do I smell like?”

His gaze settles on you, revealing the jewel of his eyes in all their warm devotion.

“Like flowers.”

-

You do not want winter to end. But end it will.

The frozen lake gradually thaws. Although the snow never truly stops in the mountains, the slow melts creep up through the forests.

You wander through the mountains for one of the last times. The sun casts its glare across the pale landscape, but the persistent cold is not easily vanquished.

You come across a meadow overflowing with wintering blooms. Their colors stand out against the blinding white. You run your hands over their delicate yet hardy petals.

Yellow daffodils and primrose. Snowdrops and winterberries. Jasmine and blue violas.

You follow the meadow until you’re on the outer edge of the mountain proper. Out here in the open, its strangely quiet.

Vibrant red flowers pepper the mountainside, standing out against the pristine white. They sway in the breeze, their sweet fragrance calling to you.

You've never seen their like before. As you bend down to pluck one of them and bring it to your nose, you hear the beat of wings.

The flower is ripped from your hand. You don’t have time to cry out as Sylus wraps a hand over your nose and mouth.

“Don’t breathe!”

But it’s too late. You feel your mouth go dry and your heart beats madly against your ribs. You latch onto Sylus as your legs start to give

“Fuck,” he growls, covering his own face. Your grip slips as your skin breaks out into a sweat and your palms turn clammy. Sylus holds you fast, and drags you away the meadow. You watch his lips move, but you might as well be underwater from the way you can’t make out a single sound.

“Sylus, what—” Inks spots of color flood your blurring vision. Your heart is racing so fast you think it might explode. You swear you hear your mother calling for you.

You reach for the dragon but you no longer have control of your limbs.

When you look at yourself, your skin is melting off your bones.

Your mind fractures. You fall through the seams of reality, to a place where not even the dragon can follow.

-

Heat. Ash. Blood.

You wince at the intense light. Your eyes are slow to focus, all you see are warping colors and loose shapes crossing your vision.

You cannot feel your body. You wonder if you have one.

“ . . . hear me?”

What? You try to speak, but you’ve forgotten how.

“Do you remember your name?” A face sharpens before you. Hauntingly familiar and achingly beautiful. 

What is a name? Why do you need to know?

Your silence shatters that pretty face. His voice breaks as he babbles apologies and pleas at you. 

You want to help him, you do. But your tongue feels swollen and some of his words don’t make sense to you . . . you want to wipe away his tears but you cannot find your hands.

“Do you know who I am?”

Of course you do.

“Sylus."

His eyes flutter, and he releases a soul-deep, relief-filled sigh. He presses his forehead to yours; you realize he’s shaking.

“I thought I lost you.”

When you brush your knuckles against his cheek, they come away damp. “What happened?” 

“Those flowers,” he explains, “can fell even the greatest animals. Inhale their scent and you’ll sleep forever.”

You swallow, your throat feels as dry as kindling.

“How . . .” You survey your surroundings. You’re back in the cave. Tara’s herbs, your mortar, and a bowl of dark liquid lie beside you.

Your mouth tastes like iron and salt. “Thank you.”

Sylus reaches for your face before pulling his hand back at the last second. “Consider it part of my debt to you.”

You take in his tense posture—how he shelters you with his body even though the danger is internal. His tail is tightly coiled and his claws are out. There’s a deep furrow between his eyebrows. You have not seen him so fierce since the rut.

Oh, this won’t do.

“Is that all we are to each other,” you ask him, “debts and deals?”

His throat bobs. When he doesn’t answer, you sit up and run your fingers down his face, across his sensitive chest He makes small, airy gasps that light a fire in your core.

“If I still bore your mark,” you murmur, “maybe you would be more honest with me.”

His breath hitches.

You wait for him.

You do not have to wait long; Sylus cups the back of your head and then he’s kissing you.

-

In some ways, it’s much like the rut, but in many others, it’s completely different.

Sylus kneels between your legs at the edge of his work table. His tools and unfinished projects lie discarded on the ground. He drags the flat of his tongue against your sex and drinks the juices that spill from your twitching entrance. You roll your hips against his face and welcome the searing heat of his tongue inside you.

He whines as you stroke his twisting horns, from base to tip, sharp enough you could prick yourself. He swirls his wet lips around your clit before sucking deeply on the tender nub. His fingers slip between your folders with ease, and crooks them until they press against that spot inside you.

“Sylus!” You arch off the table, grabbing the edge as wave after wave of pleasure cascades through your body. He continues to work your clit as you clench around his fingers.

The dragon gazes up at you, face and ears flushed, panting wildly.

You pull him to his feet and crash your lips against his. His mouth opens immediately. You taste yourself and moan as his hands slide up your body and begin undoing the rest of the laces of your dress.

His mouths down your neck, lingering where his mark used to be, before continuing lower to pepper your bare shoulder with kisses. He pulls down your sleeves until your breasts are exposed and he can take one into his salivating mouth.

You fumble with the buckles of his trousers, only for him to brush your hands away.

“Let me taste you again,” he implores. He gives you several small kisses on your lips and you sigh in response to the onslaught of affection. “Let me do this for you.”

“Don’t you want . . . ?” You gasp when he teases your entrance with his fingers. Your legs wrap around his waist and pull him as close as you can to yourself. You feel his hard length and your thighs shake with need.

“What I want—” Sylus strokes your breasts with his other hand “—is for you—” you hear his knees strike the ground once again “—to cum on my face.”

His breath teases your clit, already swollen up with renewed interest. 

“Can you do that for me, sweetie?”

You nod weakly, before Sylus buries his face between your legs and proceeds to steal your ability to think.

-

He kisses you before you fall asleep. He kisses you during your daily walks through the mountains. He kisses you while he spills deep inside you, exchanging names with a shared breath, until you smell like fire and he of wildflowers.

He kisses you as if he's starving. Perhaps he is. Perhaps he always was.

“I thought—” He shivers against your lips as you trace his naked spine “—that you merely tolerated my rut. You only stayed for what I could teach you.”

You brush away the lock of hair from his forehead. "Couldn't you tell?" you say in disbelief, "I stayed for you."

His eyes widen.

You look away, suddenly shy. If you still had his mating bite, you think it'd burn a hole right through you. "But I have no right to covet you."

You are not his mate.

Sylus threads your fingers together, your interlocked hands are molten gold in the firelight. He kisses your knuckles as he stares at you with a reverent expression. And you realize, suddenly, he's only ever looked at you that way.

“You always had that right.”

You are not his mate, but you are everything else.

When you make love to him, it is less impatient than the wildfire from before. The two of you are more like embers, not yet ready to die.

-

The night sky above the city is alight with every color. You watch them explode and pop and burst across the lake. 

“What’s happening over there?” you ask Sylus.

He sits beside you on the cliff, one leg propped up while he lets the other swing beside yours.

“Tarus City has its own celebrations,” he explains, “this time of year marks the opening of the gates to the underworld, when demons began entering the mortal realm.”

“Is there any truth in that?”

“Perhaps.” The corner of his mouth quirks up. “Why don’t we find out for ourselves?”

Your eyes light up. “Is this fearsome dragon asking me to attend a festival with him?"

"That depends entirely on your answer."

The joy in Sylus' eyes is more intoxicating than the rarest of wines. When you reach for him, he meets you halfway.

"I'd like nothing more."

Ch 4

Can also be read on ao3!

[definitelynotshouting]

lost in the dark (he's got a heavy heart) | Chapter 11

Summary:

Grian, when it comes down to it, is many things— a patchwork quilt of stolen code, copied memories, disparate ashes lifted from the last dregs of fire and pressed back into a mold; the facsimile of a Player. Of his own borrowed faults, he cradles many: stubborn persistence, reckless impulsivity, a cruelty born of his own capricious fractals. All gnash their teeth against the speckled woodgrain of Grian’s self-control, a gnawing beast at the distal roots of rotting trees. With the sun’s tempered ascent limning every raddled board in the wall, what wells up between his gums and teeth now is impatience. Last night’s fall had been snake eyes in a roll of the dice, paid for in the hot, tender pulses at the back of his skull, collected tenfold in the blossom of bruises swallowing his skin beneath the jumper. The warm, giddy buzz thrilling in his chest has begun to cool somewhat, making deferential way for a wash of numb static; blinding, a little stupid— lutulent where he stares blankly at the wall. Blink; the world falls prey to a hazy fog, twin cotton veils tumbling over his eyes. Blink again; it peels back at the corners, a wince in the early march of morn. Caught between two maligned realities, Grian traces the muzzy halftones where they curve and melt into the floor, and follows each crevice in the wood until his eyes begin to burn.

I LIVE!! I DIE!! I LIVE AGAIN!!!!

As promised, here's the official pretty post™ to put on your blogs announcing HUNGER AU IS BACK ON THE MENU BABEYYYY!!!!! Thank you to everyone who was so incredibly patient waiting for me to return-- im back now, and hopefully i wont be falling off the map again like that any time soon.

But thats not all im bringing you with this update!! My very dear friend @corvidaearts made an official Hunger AU Carrd for my birthday in october, which im finally now able to properly promote. Thank you Crow, for being an absolutely incredible friend and a madlad at making carrds-- seriously, if you want a gorgeous web design, go hit them up for a commission :D

As always, likes are appreciated, reblogs are treasured, and comments in the tags or on the fic itself will net you a place of honor on my fridge. Thanks for being so patient, and hope you all enjoy the chapter! Cheers, and here's to the upcoming New Year!!!!❤️🥂

[magicicephoenix]

A conversation at the crack of dawn.

(or, more recently, a treasured memory.)

----------

so you want to know what dw!Moon and Sun were like way back when??? okay :)

[snowflaketale12]

A Brief Timeline Guide to Frozen Books (Part 1) ❄️

One of my followers on Instagram asked me about which Frozen books are related to the movies, which ones are connected to Frozen 1 and Frozen 2. They also wanted to know if there are any books that answer questions from the movies, like details about Agnarr and Iduna's past. So I decided to make this post to answer these questions 😁

Note: - It's been a while since I last read some of these books, so feel free to correct me if I’m wrong. - Also, my photos aren't very aesthetic since some were taken in a rush. - I only covered the books I've read, but you can check out Arendelle Archive's Frozenverse for a more detailed book list within the Frozen universe, and Annals of Frozen for a more detailed chronicle timeline in Frozen universe.

1. Novels

There are twelve novels in total in the Frozen universe. Four of them are junior novelizations, one is an alternate universe (AU) story, and the rest are sequels or prequels to the movies.

Pre-Frozen 1:

Dangerous Secrets (covers the full timeline from the day Agnarr and Iduna met until the day their ship sank).

Fixer Upper (covers the full timeline from the day Kristoff met ice harvester until the day he became one of them).

During Frozen 1:

A Frozen Heart (Frozen 1 story retelling with Anna and Hans' perspective).

Conceal Don’t Feel (AU).

Post-Frozen 1 & Pre-Frozen 2:

Journey to the Lights.

Forest of Shadows (takes place one month before Frozen 2).

Post-Frozen 2:

Polar Nights (takes place two months after Frozen 2)

Well, All Is Found contains ten stories:

Pre-Frozen 1:

Call of the Cuckoo.

During Frozen 1:

Anna of Arendelle and the Silver Stakes (take places after the incident happened).

Anna and the King (Anna's flashback about young self with Agnarr).

Post-Frozen 1 & Pre-Frozen 2:

Elsa and the Frost Monster (takes place one month after Frozen 1).

Post-Frozen 2:

Engaging Anna and Kristoff.

Cold Secrets Deep Down.

A Midsummer's Song and Dance.

Wandering Oaken and the Not-So-Hygge Day (honestly I'm not so sure the timeline for this story).

The Next Right Things.

Coronation Day (Kinda like an AU story).

Note: - Excluding Conceal, Don't Feel & All Is Found, timeline in order, are: Dangerous Secrets -> Fixer Upper -> Frozen 1 Junior Novelization & A Frozen Heart -> Journey to the Lights & Olaf's Frozen Adventure Junior Novelization & Frozen Fever Junior Novelization -> Forest of Shadows -> Frozen 2 Junior Novelization -> Polar Nights. - Dangerous Secrets mentions Anna and Elsa's grandmother, Queen Rita, and explains how she left Agnarr when he was five years old. Sir Jorgenbjorgen originally belonged to her. This book provides the most details related to the movies and is highly recommended! - Polar Nights covers Anna's life as queen and describes how Elsa transforms water into a memory she saw in Ahtohallan to share it with Anna. - Forest of Shadows explores Elsa's life as queen and delves into the emotional aftermath for Anna and Elsa following the events of Frozen (spoiler ahead: nightmares attack). - Journey to the Lights explains how the trolls' crystals work and what it takes to earn them. - All Is Found contains many details related to the movies, such as Anna and Elsa's childhood after the incident, Elsa's feelings following the events of Frozen, and Anna's life as queen after her coronation.

2. Dark Horse Comics + Disney Comics

The top two books are retellings of Frozen and Frozen 2, while the rest are sequels to Frozen 1 and prequels to Frozen 2.

Note: - The middle three Adventures comics cover hundreds of short stories. - The bottom four books, timeline in order, are: Breaking Boundaries -> Reunion Road -> The Hero Within -> True Treasure. - The Hero Within mentioned Kai's brother and his hometown. - True Treasure mentioned how Iduna comfort Elsa after she accidentally struck Anna's head.

3. Anna & Elsa Storybook Series

There are nine books in total for this series, all of them are sequels to Frozen 1 and prequels to Frozen 2.

Note: - Most of the stories are also included in the Adventures series comics but longer version. - Timeline in order, are: All Hail to Queen -> Memory of Magic -> A Warm Welcome -> The Great Ice Engine -> The Polar Bear Piper -> The Arendelle Cup -> The Secret Admirer -> Return to the Ice Palace -> Anna Takes Charge. - Memory of Magic mentioned that Anna’s memories which were altered by Grand Pabbie, were never fully restored. - The Great Ice Engine mentioned how Oaken is passionate and expert in invention.

4. Short Stories

Elsa's Icy Rescue takes place before the incident occurred, while Anna Finds a Friend is set after the incident. And Stories From Arendelle are sequels to Frozen 1 and prequels to Frozen 2.

Note: - In Elsa's Icy Rescue, it is mentioned how the Arendelle royal family lived happily and how Elsa learned to be a queen. - In Anna Finds a Friend, it is noted how bored Anna's life became after Elsa locked herself in her room. - Two stories are covered in Stories From Arendelle, which are Phantoms of Arendelle and Olaf & Sven on Thin Ice.

5. Frozen and Frozen 2 Retelling Storybooks

All of these books are Frozen and Frozen 2 retelling storybooks, featuring amazing illustrations.

6. Others Storybooks and Graphic Novel

All of these books are sequels to Frozen 1 and prequels to Frozen 2, except for Anna, Elsa, and the Enchanting Holiday, Anna and the Mystery of the Mountains and some of the stories in 5-mins & storybook collection are sequels to Frozen 2.

They are all short, beautiful stories.

Note: - Most of the stories in the 2nd and 3rd (Advent Calendar storybooks) are repetitive compared to the Adventure comics, and some of the stories are retellings of Frozen 1 and Frozen 2. - Anna and the Mystery of the Mountains discusses how Anna deals with challenges as the Queen of Arendelle (including a beautiful scene of Elsa with her hair down in her sleepwear). - Anna, Elsa, and the Secret River is a book that introduces the four spirits. - Sisters and Snowmen covered three stories, A Frozen Adventure (Frozen 1 retelling), A Sister More Like Me and An Amazing Snowman.

That's all for today. Thanks for reading, feel free to correct me if I'm wrong on anything.

I'll make another post for additional books such as the diaries, art books, and guidebooks! 💙

Edited: Part 2 is here!