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[tripleflames]

replies and starters are done, yippeeee

short to do list for me, wanna take next week to see if i can catch up.

asks (not counting hc asks) - 14: @secondflame (4), @darksteelreign (2), @levinstrike (3), @starspurn (2), @madrites, @tsckcyomii, @fire-branded

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𝐉𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐰𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐬 𝐮𝐩 𝐭𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲 and a deep, bone-weary exhaustion hollowing out her chest. She must've passed out somewhere along the road, she thinks at first. Maybe the iron men took some pity and carried her rather than dragging her along by the chains. But then━

The skin around her wrists is chafed raw and bloody from the manacles, the skin around her throat equally tender. The chains are gone, though, and that's a first sign that maybe she's not where she thought she was. The second one is the fact that she's in a relatively comfortable bed, dressed in a simple shift that's clean and that her surroundings are wood and not stone. The third is that from the gentle rocking and creaking of the bed, she seems to be on a ship; but it is unlike any ship she knows.

The fourth is, she's not alone. Icy grey hues snap up the moment she hears a soft gasp from the corner, meeting a woman's she doesn't immediately recognize who says something in a language she does not recognize. Jill barely even gets the chance to react to the intruder ere the woman's out the door. She does, however, recognize the distinct click of a lock being turned.

A prisoner, then. Of sorts. She supposes being the Dominant of Shiva might give anyone pause ere putting her behind bars, but the room is a prison to keep her in all the same for now.

She should feel afraid, probably. Angry. Maybe even hopeful, because wherever she is, it's clearly no longer with the Iron Kingdom. Instead, she lets the familiar cold numbness deaden her heart and resign herself to whatever horror comes next. / @encelvdus

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𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐚𝐟𝐞𝐭𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭 feels both achingly familiar and shockingly foreign. In the grand scheme of things and the thirty-two summers he's already spent on this star, the one year and some months they spent apart doesn't sound so long. He's heard tales from his fellow dragoons━ and he won't deny thinking of them still makes his heart clench with grief━ of spending many moons apart from their beloved ones; knows that him and Terence have been lucky to be able to spend most of their time together, even if the intimacy of their relationship had to be kept a secret. So in the grand scheme of things it should feel like no time has passed at all.

Yet the man he was that year ago is so, so different from who he is today. He needs but feel the aches in his body, the tightness of his skin scarred and burnt as it is to know. Part of him thought he never would have this again. Part of him yet thinks he doesn't deserve it.

Terence's voice soothes the instinctive doubt this may yet be a dream, his touch kindling a flame within his chest Dion had feared extinguished. Right now, basking in the realization that he needs neither worry about anyone interrupting them, anyone finding out, nor worry about his own duties seeing as there are no more duties for him to uphold, that he can take his time and simply be, Dion allows himself to melt further into that touch. He feels Terence's lips on his skin, those slender, calloused fingers at the back of his neck and almost laughs at the frisson of want it sends down his spine.

How long ago had it been since he'd felt any such baser interest? He'd almost thought his broken body incapable of it now. " Just you, " He murmurs, tilting his head back so he can see Terence's face. " Unless you've somewhere to be I━ wouldn't mind simply staying right here. " A beat, before he sucks in a steadying breath and then, with a slightly wavering voice, " I suppose I could do with a kiss, however. " / @tsckcyomii

Terence feels the way Dion's shoulders pull taut the moment he awakens. For a moment, he contemplates allowing the other room to breathe and reorientate himself without, perchance, feeling stifled by his presence, yet any tension seems to leave his body a moment thereafter. Even now, after they've loved one another for years, Terence still feels honored that Dion allows himself to relax and... be weak around him. Because Dion, in all his perfection and the way he holds himself to impossibly high standards, needs not be perfect for him. He needs be but himself.

Terence shifts and closes his eyes feeling a hand settle atop his hip. A painfully familar gesture that he yearned for for so many months.

"I am real. I promise." His voice, barely above a whisper, carries the note of certainty and reassurance as to alleviate the troubles Dion might experience. After everything that has happened, after what they both lived through, what Dion lived through, he needs stability, no? And Terence is more than happy to provide it, and to the best of his abilities.

Exhaling a shaky sigh, Terence tilts down his head, his lips pressing to the crown of Dion's head. His right hand trails up his back, resting in his nape and securely holding him close. "I am real, my love, and I'm with you. Now and forevermore." Oh, how this promise has been true and held weight from the very moment that Terence joined the Dragoons to serve under the prince. There's no where else he'd rather be, after all. No where else he's ever wanted to be. His love for Dion will not and can not wither.

"Do you need aught...? Or do you wish to rest longer?" he murmurs, burying his nose further in Dion's hair, drowning himself in his love's presence and his scent. 'Tis still unbelievable, that they've found back together, he thinks, but he shall thank Greagor for the rest of his lives to be granted another chance.

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next few days are going to be a lil busy still but i hope by sunday i'll have some spoons to do a few more replies here and there.

[tripleflames]

Is this what my life is supposed to be?

petrokhelidon. independent multi-muse rp blog featuring leon kennedy and rebecca chambers from resident evil, as well as muses from genshin, hsr, ffxiv and more. as written by curry, 30+ she/her.

*** sideblog that follows back from ritterblood.

*** carrd / pinned / promo template credit

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" Apologies, I nearly didn't see you there, " Dion shuffles a few ungainly steps sidewards, narrowly avoiding collision with the man afore him, hidden behind the pile of boxes he was carrying up the stairs while Dion had been going down too lost in thought to pay much attention. Even after some weeks of staying on the Invincible in preparation of meeting Ultima in battle, he's still not quite used to the Hideaway's twisting and turning walkways and stairs; nor to its people. Craftsmen, bearers, former sellswords, botanists and peddlers, both bearers and non-bearers seemingly living together in perfect harmony, each as equal as the other.

Not even Ifrit━ or Clive, as Dion should remember calling him━ the de facto leader of the place is treated any different than the others. In fact, from the errands he's seen the man being sent on by various others he's perfectly content being used as a packmule and weapon both.

Or mayhap used is not the correct term. Not here, in any case.

He himself has not quite found a connection to anyone but Joshua and his attendant and maybe Tarja. The others watch him either with open curiosity or wariness. Some even hostility, which is of little surprise considering the amount of former imperial bearers finding their sanctuary here.

The man he almost ran into peers from behind his mount of boxes, however and rather than look at him with any of the aforementioned, there lurks a spark of recognition in green hues that speaks of more than merely knowing Dion by reputation. The odd thing, despite Dion being sure he's never actually met or even seen this man, is that he somehow feels the same.

Do you need help? He wishes to ask. Instead, what comes out is: " Do I━ know you from somewhere? " / @levinstrike

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His brows are furrowed in contemplation, the meaning of his father's words not quite clear to the young boy. Clive's not certain where his father has failed him when in Clive's opinion he's done naught of the sort, or if he truly believes that he's done no wrong when his mother cannot even look at him without showing ire and disdain━ but the reassurances at least serve to lessen the hard knot of tension in his belly. To know he can always talk to his father, to know he won't be scolded or turned away, that he is not alone━

A tentative smile paints itself on his lips, blue hues shining once again with a spark of excitement rather than anxiety 'pon his father's suggestion to head to the kitchens together. It would've been better if Joshua had been allowed to join, of course, or even Jill who is busy with her letters in the other tower, but Clive won't deny the simple joy he feels blooming at the prospect of spending time with his father one on one. " Alright! " his hand slips in his father's own without second thought, his hold firm and secure, " We should ask the cooks to prepare those lemon bars uncle Byron brought back from Port Isolde last time he came to visit. Joshua seemed to really enjoy those, " Because of course his first thought would go t'wards his brother's favorites rather than his own. " I don't think Jill was there try them last time, maybe she can have one as well! "

With his good spirits returned, Clive can't even find it within himself to be wary of his mother's disapproval should she find out from the handmaidens that he tried to ferry secret notes to his brother, for Anabella would surely not believe him if he were to say his father helped him; too excited to imagine the surprise on Joshua's face once he finds them. For now, though, his thoughts remain on the sundry treats they might be able to smuggle to his brother and an earnest blue gaze looks up at the Duke, eager to learn more. " What's your favorite treat, father? " / @fire-branded

He can't let go of Clive. It's as if he fears the boy he loves so dearly might slip away entirely if he does -- as if the pain that the prince feels will drive him elsewhere, far away from his father. The truth is that if Clive did decide to run, the Archduke wouldn't blame him for it. Scorned by his own mother, looked down upon by the nobility...

And what has his father done for him, except let his selfish love for the child stop him from giving him a better, happier life?

If it is possible, the man's hold on his eldest son tightens even more protectively. His face is buried into his child's shoulder as he, too, shudders from an onslaught of powerful emotions. And then he exhales slowly, steadying himself in terms of composure. As he does shift back, it's only enough that he can gaze upon Clive's face; gloved hands find themselves resting on the other's shoulders, where they offer a reassuring, encouraging squeeze.

Finally, Elwin smiles. At first, it's tentative and filled to the brim with sorrow. Soon enough it's warmed up considerably, into its usual warm, equally as reassuring one. "Listen closely, my boy." This time as he speaks, it's with confidence and warmth to mirror that of the sun -- or the great firebird's most gentle of flames. "You have done no wrong. Not now, not ever -- you need not apologize to me. I should be apologizing to you... for failing you when you needed me most, both before and now. I am sorry. I cannot change the past, nor can I change our circumstances; but I can support you, and I will."

Another squeeze to Clive's shoulders. "If you have need of reassurance, then I will be there to cheer you on. And if you find yourself in tears, my arms are open for you henceforth." You deserve better, is what Elwin really wants to say; along with, I love you. If only Anabella would listen, would see for herself the truth of what a remarkable young man Clive is. And it is his fervent hope that one day, she will see it, even if he wishes so desperately that that day would come sooner.

When his hands withdraw, one curls into a loose fist, which is then bumped lightly against the youth's chest. Then he stands, gesturing for Clive to follow him -- and reaching for one of his hands. Even if his eldest son is considered "too old" for such things, it's a simple gesture, but one that means the world to his father. In some small way, it's an effort to make up for some of the lost time between them, and to convey that despite his failures and absences, he does love his boys.

More than he knows how to express to them.

"Of course we can. If we ask nicely, perhaps the cooks can be persuaded to make your favorite treats... and allow us to taste test." This, of course, is followed by a playful wink. "Why don't we ask one of your mother's handmaidens to take some to Joshua as well... and we can sneak little notes to him amongst them? It will be our secret."

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I think Jill post-game, regardless of whether or not Clive is alive ( and I definitely believe that he is, Let Me Cope ) will go out to do what she said she wanted to do in the Priceless side-quest once she can and feels strong enough to do so. She'll sail beyond the Twins, see what's left of Valisthea with her own eyes, Torgal ever at her side. Maybe she'll take Mid along too, Gav, all the other people that helped her. I also think once the land starts recovering, if that still happens in her lifetime, she'll travel back to the North as well. Try and find out more about her roots, about what happened to her birth family. Find some more connection with that part of her past. Of course, wherever she goes she'll reach out a helping hand if needed. She'll still fight where needed. She might cut her hair, at some point, a la Garnet from FF9 to signify a new beginning, a fresh start. She will continue living and finding her own joy in doing so, without necessarily needing Clive there for her to do so.

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Final Fantasy XVI Scenery (4/?)

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Though she doesn't bother acknowledging Cid's words, too busy focusing on channeling her aether into an ice wall that may hope to be thick enough to stop the fiend in its tracks, she's nevertheless glad to hear his retreating footsteps. Despite the toll it takes on her, between the both of them she's still the best equipped to handle the situation and despite the complex feelings yet lingering 'neath her breast when it comes to her powers and their conception, Jill never feels more in tune with Shiva than when she can her them to do something good. Something to protect those she cares for.

Still, she can feel her energy reserves depleting fast. Too fast, cracks already showing in the ice from where the fiend is throwing itself against it with bellows of rage and frustration, hard enough it makes the ground tremble under her feet. If only its scales weren't so thick and hardened, she could've made short work of it using any of the grizzlier methods she learned during her days as a glorified weapon, but as it stands there's little more she can do than what she is already doing.

Unless, of course━

" Tarja will kill me for this, " Jill states breathlessly, pulling back her hands to draw in even more aether to call 'pon Shiva proper. And despite the pain, the exhaustion, the spread of the curse that is slowly claiming more of her body, there is always that one second of pure power rushing through her when her and Shiva connect and become one that Jill both loves and dreads in equal measure. She loathes what they've made her do while primed. Loathes the deaths on her hands, the destruction she has caused in the name of the Iron Kingdom. But here, encased in ice, cold gaze impassively looking down at her foe as she rises to the skies and prepares to dole out death's kiss, she cannot deny it thrills her too.

Spikes of ice form in the air, flying towards the scaleskin with a push of her palm. Many shatter 'pon the hardened scales, but some find true in the softer parts of its flesh around the inner joins and the tail, pinning it to the ground. For however long she can't say━ but then she doesn't intend to stick around and watch.

She turns and flies, down the same path Cid took, the lingering sparks that remain of Ramuh calling out to her. It is how she eventually finds him and then, without much further thought, how she scoops him up in her arms too, intent on getting as much distance between them and the fiend as possible. It is a blind direction she flies in, not knowing whether or not she's taking them t'wards civilization or further t'wards the heart of the forest━ it is, in the end, far enough they can no longer hear the cries of rage that she sets them down none too gently, aether around Shiva's form dispersing leaving Jill to stumble to her knees coughing as the toll of her priming makes itself known within her lungs and the searing pain of her arm.

The looming rows of trees, lush thickets, and patches of wet earth all become an amorphous blur of motion around him as he runs. Not that he'd stop to smell the roses, even when he knows the Blight strips more of these pockets of life from the land with each passing day (that had been more of Clive's thing, and maybe Jill's too; regrettably, he hasn't travelled with her long enough to know) but now he only pauses to evade fallen logs and listen for feet pounding behind him to tell him that Jill is still following close behind.

Which is why when, after hearing the crashing footfalls of the beast behind them and the startled skid of her feet, he whips around to call for her when he doesn't hear her running resume, and his breath catches instead when he recognizes that unmistakable density to the air. Aether coalescing the way frost encroaches on every surface in the winter, the temperature dropping from balmy to something decidedly more severe and biting.

Jill semiprimed. She's making a wall of ice, and asking him to go off alone.

When the words finally register, Cid hesitates at first, his jaw clenching, because gods damn it all, it's a blow to his pride to be forced to leave his comrade behind and run. Self-preservation and all that, aye, but better to bob and weave under the cover of foliage together like wily mice than let Jill potentially sacrifice herself to save his skin. Beyond that, though, he thinks faintly to himself that once upon a time he would have been in her place, bellowing at the others to get away as he unflinchingly beckons a thunderstorm to his fingertips, calcification be damned.

Hah. He sure knows how to pick his successors.

"Keep running the same direction I went once you've stopped it!" He finally shouts, relenting to her heroics, and takes off once again, trying to ignore the gnawing dread that builds with each footfall. Once upon a time, he would've taken matters into his own hands. Now, all he can do is trust in Jill's strength, and pray to Greagor that if he has to circle back, he doesn't come back to the grisly remains of an overgrown scalekin's lunch.

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yknow one big critique i have with the game, other than some of the story and pacing issues is the fact that they give us soooooo much crafting resources but the actual crafting system in this game is pretty much non-existent? like you can only craft armor and weapons and even then those recipes are usually things you get from hunts etc so why do you keep giving me bloody hides and wyrite game? why do so many chests have crafting materials when you're not giving us a proper crafting system to use these on? waste of resources if you ask me.

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kiss roulette

inspired by the infamous "i want the k" meme by deactivated tumblr user tastcful. send 🎲 to generate a kiss! potential suggestive/nsf.w themes may appear

A kiss on the cheek

A kiss on the nose

A kiss on the forehead

A kiss to the top of the head

A firm kiss

A gentle peck

A romantic kiss

A platonic kiss

A kiss to the eyelid

A kiss along the jawline

A kiss to the neck

A kiss along the collar bone

A kiss on the chest

A kiss to the stomach

A kiss along the hips

A kiss in the rain

An upside-down "Spider-Man" kiss

A kiss while laughing

A kiss underwater

A rough kiss

WILDCARD! Dealer's choice :)

A french kiss/kiss with tongue

A kiss influenced by alcohol/other substances

A sleepy kiss

A kiss that's an accident

A kiss while one or both parties are crying

A kiss in greeting

A kiss in parting

A kiss to the back of the hand

A kiss to the palm of the hand

A kiss to the inner thigh

A kiss while someone watches

A kiss to a scar, birthmark, injury, or other marking

A kiss after a bite

A kiss against a wall

A kiss to the shoulder

A kiss to the back of the neck

A kiss while one party is carried

A tentative kiss

An impulsive kiss

A kiss out of spite

A clumsy kiss

A bloody kiss

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"Got our first batch of wine from the new wine press I made." He holds up a goblet in offering. "Barely fermented at all, but it's passable in my opinion. Want to give it a taste? And before you say it- yes, the cup is clean." @levinstrike ft clive

" Ah, I uh━, " Clive's gaze is drawn downwards to the wine cup pushed into his hands ere he could offer any thought of protest. He's hesitant, in truth, not even because of the idea of having to drink from Cid's unwashed goblet ( though he'll admit that too adds to the trepidation ), but due to the fact that the only grapes he is aware they have in their stores are the ones grown by their own botanists and, much like the inception of Martelle's apples, they are yet far too sour for any human being to safely consume without completely locking up one's jaw.

Unless, of course, your name is Cid for whom the definition of passable seems to be on another level entirely.

Nevertheless, Clive supposes he can bear to take a sip to indulge the man in his newest hobby. Years into their friendship and he still has a remarkably hard time telling Cid no to anything he asks or offers, dodgy short-cuts and half-assed plans and all. Never mind that the acid, alcoholic scent of the drink is already sticking to the back of his throat ere he's even brought it to his lips. " Thank you, Cid. I'm sure it'll be...., " He tries for a smile, stilted as it may be, " Delightful. "

Where's Gav to interrupt the moment when Clive needs him to?

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The King of Waloed will be present at the formalities, his father's words still ring in his ears. Keep him in your sights. Observe.

Dion has heard much about the indomitable King of Ash and the eikon he wields. Odin, atop his spectral steed, wielding his dark blade said to be able to sever even the threads of reality itself━ and one the man himself certainly knows how to use, if his fearsome reputation in battle is aught to go by. To say Dion isn't curious about what Odin is here for, or what his presence may or may not herald, is an understatement. That said, he'd not been of mind to actually go seek out the man himself, content enough to stick to the sidelines while watching his Father and the Council members of the Empire do most of the diplomatic footwork.

He's always felt more comfortable on the battlefield, among his own dragoons. He wonders what that says about him.

Still, despite his best intentions it seems a meeting turns out to be quite inevitable; the personal invite received from the King's Lord Commander━ Harbard, if he recalls correctly ━ not one he can refuse, politely or otherwise.

The man in question, when Dion moves to greet him 'pon the appointed hour, seems rather━ bored, at first glance. He somehow loathes to think it's something they seem to have in common when it comes to functions like these. " Your Highness. A pleasure to at last put a face to the name of Odin. " / @askens-konge

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short to do list for me, wanna take next week to see if i can catch up.

asks (not counting hc asks) - 14: @secondflame (4), @darksteelreign (2), @levinstrike (3), @starspurn (2), @madrites, @tsckcyomii, @fire-branded

[tripleflames]

pov ur on ur knees cuz this guy just said you may kneel before barnabas tharmr

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Final Fantasy XVI - PC • (dev. Square Enix)