#the darker armor around the neck/right arm

[arisenreborn]

In-game the size difference between them never quite looks this pronounced somehow but my god seeing them side-by-side like this I Am Looking

[amica-aenigmata-naboo]

In Time

Feyd Rautha x Y/N - drabble part 2 - 1.4K WC

Part 1

Masterlist

Warnings: holy fluff, like all fluff, literally nothing but sweet sweet fluff

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

You and Feyd stood across from each other in your shared chamber. The wedding had gone off without a hitch, it was much darker than you imagined. Darker in the sense that it was made well known that you were to submit to Feyd. You had not been allowed to see each other after the initial engagement and your thoughts were getting the better of you. You worried once the deed was done, once you were officially married and bound to each other, he might not be the man you met. The kind, inquisitive one who craved gentleness. Perhaps he truly was the Feyd Rautha everyone feared. 

You toddled your feet, looking everywhere but at him. He stepped closer and you instinctively took a step back. “My apologies my Lord Na-Baron.” you said quietly.

“Do not apologize. Are you scared?” he asked, remaining where he was. 

“A bit.” you replied, fidgeting with your hands.

“Of me?” he asked, you could see a hint of pain behind his gaze.

You flicked your eyes to him. He could tell without getting a verbal answer from you that you were afraid of him. He felt a small pang in his chest, and yet, he understood your hesitation. 

“I do not expect anything from you,” he reassured, “but… I would like to get to know you.” he said. 

You took a small step towards him, “… but… do we not have… duties to perform?” you asked shakily, eyes wandering to the bed. 

He could feel the fear radiating off of you, “No. Not until you are ready.” he said with certainty. 

You raised your eyebrows slightly, not expecting him to cater to you in such a way given how much pressure is put on the production of an heir. 

“Why don’t you bathe, change into something comfortable, and we can talk then? I’ll do the same… in separate quarters, for your comfort.” he said walking backwards towards the door.

You nodded, watching him walk out. You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding in before moving to the bathroom. You began discarding all the intricate accessories in your hair, on your neck, on your arms, and finally your dress. You looked at the black paint that was put on your body before the wedding. War paint. Was this marriage going to be a war? You ran yourself a bath, watching the black streak off your body slowly. You sunk down, letting the water envelope you completely. You felt peace here, underwater and away from everything. Alas, peace cannot last forever. Not on Geidi Prime. 

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

Feyd re-entered your shared chamber. It felt sterile. Feyd could hear you in the bath still, so he decided to have the maids bring in different foods before activating different lights around the room, casting soft indirect light around. He sat on the sprawling couch in nothing but comfortable pants, his war paint also washed off his torso. He was on display and felt like he needed armor at this moment. He felt vulnerable. Lost in thought he almost didn’t realize the bathroom door slid open. His head snapped up, you wore the silken black night clothes the maids had left for you. Your face was bare and your hair was still damp; he had never seen someone so real, so beautiful. Speechless, he motioned for you to sit on the couch with him. 

“What’s all this?” you asked, looking around at the lights and different trays of foods. 

“I figured it might take us a while to learn about each other.” he said with a shy smile. 

You nodded, afraid to start the conversation.

“We shouldn’t hide anything from one another, agreed?” he said, grabbing a strange looking black fruit. 

You nodded, “Where would you like to start?” you asked him, keeping your eyes on him, trying to study him.

“What is your favorite color?” he asked.

You chuckled at the trivial question, “It’s black… more a lack of color really.” you smiled softly.

“Well you’re on the right planet if that’s the case.” he said.

You laughed at his comment, a true laugh. He had never heard something so enchanting. “I can ask anything, yes?” you asked.

He nodded, reaching to hand you a slice of the fruit he was eating. 

You took it graciously, ”Why are your teeth black? Only your darlings had black teeth from what I’ve seen.” you said.

“You know of my darlings?” he asked with wide eyes, as if he had been caught.

“I’m not stupid, I know the needs of bored men.” you said as you ate the fruit.  

“I dismissed them, they… they were concubines. Nothing more, I swear it.” he rushed out.

“It’s alright Feyd. Now, my question needs an answer.” you waved off his worries.

“I - I’m afraid it's a rather shallow answer… They are considered beautiful on Geidi Prime. Pure vanity I suppose.” he smiled, showing his blackened teeth. 

You nodded, satisfied with his answer. “Your turn.” you said as you picked up random foods to try.

“What else can your eyes do?” he asked, eating with you.

You smiled perkily, excited someone was interested in your invention. “Night vision, stunning, even managed a laser in one. Mostly they are for seeing but they have all sorts of ‘hidden features’. I particularly enjoy the thermal vision, helps me see what people are concealing.” you said showing Feyd each setting as you spoke. 

“Magic indeed.” he smiled. 

Throughout your conversation you shifted closer to him, hours passed learning continuously about each other. The conversation flowed smoothly, as if you had known each other for years.

“What are your scars from?” you asked, pointing to the scattered marks. 

Feyd fell quiet, fingers deftly tracing over a few of them. “The Baron is not kind. He… ever since I was small he…” you saw the hurt and hate in Feyd’s eyes. 

You nudged him with your knee but got no reaction. You softly pushed him back on the couch so he was relaxing against the back of it. You watched him with cautious eyes, you stood before straddling him. It felt slightly awkward at first but once you found your bearings you pressed him to you in a tight hug, arms wrapping around his neck to hold him. He wasted no time reciprocating. 

“You won't be hurt anymore, I swear.” you said to him before finally leaning back. Your lips were dangerously close. Your breaths mingled, both your eyes wandering between each other's eyes and lips. You leaned in, Feyd met you halfway. The kiss was soft, hesitant. Yet the longer it went on the more you craved him. You felt his hands slide to your hips, squeezing your supple flesh. You let out a small whimper, causing both of you to stop and stare at each other. 

You chuckled, “I have much to learn in the areas of intimacy, husband.” you said to him. 

Feyd chuckled, stealing a kiss before he responded with a hum, “Wife.” he smiled hazily. 

“Do you have other questions?” he asked, kissing your fingers softly. 

“What do you expect of me as your wife?” you asked, expecting him to say children.

“Nothing… except…” he hesitated.

“What?” you said tilting his chin up to meet your eyes. He looked… afraid. Something you never thought you would see.

“It is foolish.” he waved you off.

“Tell me anyway.” you asked, almost begging to know.

“Love… and even then I do not expect it but… I wish for it. For something I have never had.” his head fell, as if he expected you to strike him for asking this.

You cradled his face in your palms, “Who’s to say the seed of love has not already been planted between us? Who’s to say it doesn’t bloom more and more each moment I am with you?” you pecked his lips, eyes finding his when you pulled back. “We have both been neglected of love we deserve, of love we crave. I wish for nothing more than to love and be loved, Feyd.” you said in a genuine and vulnerable tone. You had never been so honest with someone and you doubt he had either. A smile graced his lips as he held you close to him. You messed with your wrist control panel before blinking, your pupils shifting into the shape of a heart.

Feyd laughed at your cute antic, “Magic eyed beauty.” he mumbled out. 

You laughed in return, “Fearless pretty boy.” you kissed his nose.

“Pretty?” he scoffed.

“Very pretty indeed.” you said, doubling down on your statement, hugging him once more.

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

Naboo's Note:

IDK how I feel about this, I wasn't planning on doing a part 2 but somebody requested it so let me know what ya'll think. Am I making him too soft? I can always write him a bit more psycho lol. Post again soon, XOXOXOXOXOOXOXXO

[random-imagines-blog]

Imagine being Jonathan Crane’s perky goth girlfriend.

You were not what people expected when Jonathan showed up with you on his arm, as his plus one to different charity events to help the asylum. Even though most people had an inkling that he was into the darker things in life, preferring black for his clothing above all else, you took it a little far sometimes.

Jonathan was naturally tall, lanky some would say, and you often seemed like you were trying to emulate that with the platformed boots that you wore, but damn did you wear them well, not even tripping on stairs, and still finding a way to bounce on your heels when you saw something that excited you. You got excited often, like right now, at this party at Bruce Wayne’s manor.

“Can you just imagine turning this into a haunted house?” You said, ringed fingers covering your mouth as you looked around. It had the atmosphere - it might even have the ghosts, considering what had happened to the Wayne patriarch and matriarch. “Lots of spooky cobwebs, oh, you could put like robotic parts inside of that suit of armor so that it walks on its own. There’s enough doors, you could pull a whole Scooby Doo in here.”

Jonathan fought back the smile. You were so perky, especially whenever you thought about Halloween. It was the beginning of Summer, but here you were, planning for the months ahead. “I can think of a way to make it particularly spooky,” He whispered to you, making you smile. Your hand took hold of his, and he did a little spin with you, showing you the rare bit of affection in front of polite society.

“I know you do,” You winked, still having to stand on your tip toes in the platform boots to kiss his jaw. “You could make it downright fangtastic.”

“It has to be said, I do enjoy a good vampire,” Jonathan nodded, preparing himself to greet the owner of the asylum who was coming in closer. “But I prefer the scarecrow,” He said, bringing forth a conspiratorial grin on your lips.

You eagerly took the hand of the Director when he approached, and shook it to the point where the jewelry around your neck and wrist were jingling. “Hi, so nice to see you again!” You greeted pleasantly. That was another thing that people never expected. That beneath all of the black clothes and the make up that they already judged you for, you were just a kind person, never sneering at others or trying to scare them off. That was Jonathan’s job, after all.

Requested by: @teh-vampire-bunny​

[bonny-kookoo]

bonnie~! (Or question for finish line mc) In a bunch of race car movies I’ve seen the drivers are ripped… so’s Jk buff too? Mc’s answer to the interviewers question made me cackle, so… what is mc’s reaction to maybe first time seeing him work out or just meeting buff Kook for the first time?

yeah JK is kinda beefy not gonna lie...

You remember the first time you noticed a change in Jungkook after he'd been 'discovered'- now put under a more demanding workout routine, an actual team now taking care of him to make sure he's in top-condition for training and every single race.

It was late summer. A simple barbecue, to celebrate one of the driving instructors' birthday- Jungkook already there with friends, since you had to work that day, only able to meet up later.

Maybe it was the hectic schedule he's had, the lack of sex you both had (and if you did have something slow and sloppy before going to sleep it would be in the dark), or maybe it just happened over night and you never knew- but when did he became so.. big?

"I uh- brought beer?" You announce yourself as Jungkook turns around from where he stands near the barbecue grill, nothing covering his upper body but a white sleeveless top, a bit of sweat in the back making the fabric slightly darker. He's always wearing that chain around his neck with the promise ring you both exchanged when you first started dating- Jungkook still a little shy, nerdy, glasses on his nose and voice a bit quiet.

You barely recognize that Jungkook from back then now.

"There's my baby." He beams at you happily, hugging you before he takes the plastic bag and carton of beer from you. "You could've texted me to help you carry everything." He says, helping you set everything down on a camping table close by.

You're familiar with this dirt-road by now. It's a little like a second home, that dusty racetrack he basically spends almost every weekend at.

"I brought you something for the mosquitos later?" You say, and he nods.

"Ah, look at him- he's got a keeper!" His instructor laughs, greeting you. "You make sure he keeps that head on his shoulders, eh?" He says, and you grin, nodding.

That old man is proud. Of course he is- he's pretty much adopted Jungkook as somewhat of his grandson by now.

A little on the side now, me runs his fingers over your bare arms, before he moves them to sit around his neck. "When did you become so.. beefy?" You ask him, eyes squinted in suspicion as he laughs.

"I think it's the new workout." He shrugs. "Is it too much?" He worries, but you shake your head.

"Honestly? Makes me wanna ride your thighs again. Feels like I don't know your body at all anymore." You simply say without shame. "Also makes me feel all fuzzy in my heart- so have such a strong, pretty boyfriend- like a knight in shining armor!" You sing-song, and he laughs, head tilted back for a second.

"I'll even carry you around like the princess you are." He purrs down at you, pecking your lips.

Twice, because once is never enough.

"...pretty sure you could just fuck me while holding me too, no?" You whisper up at him, and he bites his lip, playing with his lip ring.

"Guess we'll have to find out?" He responds, and you giggle.

"But right now I'm hungry, so too bad, beefy-boy!" You laugh, hitting his chest before you run towards the barbecue again to grab a beer for yourself.

Leaving Jungkook a little frustrated between his legs-

but he'll get his revenge.

[mischasbongwater]

farkas x reader

warning: intense sex, vaguely fem-bodied reader but only if you squint

authors note: this is most certainly not my best work, just practice if anything but im still glad i finished it (emphasis on finished) and i wanted to share it and this felt like a good place to do it

(also for context this takes place after his transformation in the crypt that first time)

You slip into Farkas’s room as quickly and quietly as you can, out of worry that one of the other Companions might get suspicious. You carefully close the door, turn around—

—And Farkas is standing at the foot of his bed, in nothing but a loincloth.

“OH!” You yelp, throwing your hands up in front of your face. “I’m sorry, I didn’t-“

“It’s fine, open your eyes. I don’t care.”

You falter. “Wh- seriously?”

“Yeah. Why not?”

Slowly, you lower your hands and look at him. He’s sat down on his bed now, arms folded. Somehow he still looks just as big and intimidating as when he’s wearing armor. You can so clearly see his muscles rippling beneath his olive skin, but you try not to look anywhere other than his face — or arms.

You catch the inquisitive look on his face and snap yourself back to reality. “So,” you begin. “Werewolf.”

“Yes,” he agrees. “It is a gift given only to those in the Circle. Should you want to share the beastblood, you’ll have to prove your honor.”

“Right.” You cannot stop looking at him.

“Truth be told, if you want a more technical history, you should talk to Kodlak or Vilkas. I don’t usually put much thought into it beyond the gift itself. But- are you okay?”

“Huh? What do you mean?”

“I don’t know. You smell different.” He stands up.

“That- is so weird,” you respond, momentarily distracted by bewilderment. “What do I smell like?”

“Normally? Just you. But now…” He steps closer until he’s barely a foot away from you. It feels like his bare chest is looking you straight in the eyes. “It’s different. Stronger. Sweeter.”

You look up at him, eyes wide, feeling something you’ve never quite felt before. Dread and thrill both building up in your stomach, like white-hot balls of metal expanding through your abdomen. Sharp bursts of adrenaline spiking through your body.

“Are you interested in me, new blood?” His deep, gritty voice had a strange new cadence to it, like warm honey pouring into your ears.

You inhale shakily. “I- don’t know how to answer that question.”

“Can I answer it for you?”

You don’t even know if the word “yes” had left your mouth yet before you were in Farkas’s grasp. One hand is gently gripping the back of your neck, and the other is caressing the top of your head, weaving fingers through your hair. His rough, salty lips are pressed against yours, hard. You reach out and place your hands on his hips, closing the gap between you. He quivers under your touch, then melts into it, grabbing a handful of your hair and pushing his tongue into your mouth.

After a few heated moments, he pulls back, much to your disappointment.

“Do you want this?” He asks, his voice sounding much darker now.

You look at him, confused. “Wh-“

“The beast-spirit inside of me. He wants you. Bad.” He fidgets with his hands, showing the first glimpse of true uncertainty and nervousness you’ve ever seen from him. “I don’t know if I can keep being gentle like this. I don’t want to-”

“Farkas.” You take his hands. “I don’t care. I’m yours.”

A lustful spark appears in his eyes. He grabs you by your waist, picks you up with ease, and pins you to his bed, desperately grabbing at your clothes and trying to pull them off.

He seems as stocky and strong as a tree trunk, every part of him laying over you like this. He reaches down and pulls his loincloth off, then lowers himself down, almost completely immobilizing you.

His hands wander up to your face, lazily at first, then grabbing you roughly and once more pushing his lips against yours. His hips begin to thrust slowly against yours, and you feel his hardening cock sliding up and down against your stomach.

“Mmm… you smell so good.” His hands travel across your body, greedily touching every part he can reach. Your own hand begins to drift downward, but he grabs your wrist and pins it above your head.

“You had your chance to lead,” he growls. “It’s my turn now.” He pins up your other hand and buries his face in the crook of your neck, sucking and biting, forcing high, breathy moans out of your mouth. His movement slowly grows more desperate, and you feel the same.

“Farkas…” you say pleadingly. He lets out a deep purr and snaps his hips against you in approval. He raises his head above yours. You stare into his eyes, and he stares back, perfectly mirroring the burning passion you feel. His soft raven hair hangs down perfectly around his broad, rugged face. He leans down and whispers into your ear, his hot breath tickling your skin and sending tingles down your back. “I’m going to make you mine.”

Without any more warning than that, he grabs your hips so hard you think he might leave handprints, and he pushes his tip inside of you. You let out a shuddering gasp, your hands shooting up and grabbing onto his biceps for dear life.

He begins to push further into you, his thick shaft throbbing and stretching you out. The pain felt so good. A keening moan escapes from your mouth. Farkas closes his eyes, and you can see the muscles feathering along his tightly-clenched jaw as he sinks deeper and deeper into you.

“Farkas,” you breathe out. “Farkas-” you yelp as he forcefully thrusts his full length into you. “Y-you’re so big…” you manage to stammer out. “Fu-uuck. Please, Farkas.”

He opens his eyes and smirks. He smirks at you.

“Please what, darling?”

“Fuck me,” you heave desperately, your nails digging into his skin. “Fuck me, Farkas, please, I-”

You’re cut off by his strong, meaty hand pressing over your mouth, covering half your face. He gives a firm but gentle squeeze. “Sshhh, shh-shh.” He purrs. “Can’t have you waking up the others.” He starts slowly thrusting again. “Or is that what you want? Does the new blood want all of Jorrvaskr to hear them whining like a dog?”

You can do nothing but squeeze your eyes shut, your whole body pulsating with the feeling of him inside of you. That white-hot feeling is back, even more intensely now, like a sun planted in your stomach.

“That’s right,” he groans, starting to speed up. “Good.” He squeezes your face tighter, his eyes closing again and his head tilting back in pleasure. His movements grow almost animalistic, shoving himself further and further inside of you over and over. Your body tenses up, vibrating with heat and ecstasy, his cock filling you up so deep you think you might pass out. Your moans are uncontrollable and muffled by his hand, while your own are nearly drawing blood from their death grip on his arms. He keeps pounding into you, grunting and moaning huskily, holding you solidly in place. Your hips snap back up in rhythm with his, your body twitching from the pleasure and strain. If not for him muzzling you, you would be crying out, screaming his name, moaning and keening in primal euphoria.

The ball in your stomach expands like molten metal, spreading through your body until it feels as if Farkas has filled every last inch of you. It builds and builds and builds-

Until he stops, hilt-deep inside of you. You squirm and cry out, frantic with lust and just on the edge of overstimulation from his huge cock. He hums smugly at your struggle, his face inches away from yours. “Look at you. Such a desperate little thing. You like being used like this?”

You nod, aggressively and pathetically. Farkas chuckles, and the deep, raspy sound of his subtle laughter is almost enough to send you over the edge right there. He shifts, taking his other hand and grasping both sides of your face, pushing his thumbs into your mouth.

“Stay quiet,” he growls, before continuing his merciless thrusts at the same pace he left off at. Without even meaning to, you clamp down on his thumbs between your teeth, letting out a flood of sharp, cut-off moans as he fucks you with reckless abandon. You almost can’t stand the speed and girth hammering into you, sending you into a state of complete, mindless hunger.

Through your feral haze, you see his bottom lip caught under his teeth, his eyes tightly closed, and his eyebrows knitted together. Then his mouth hangs open, and a small whimper escapes into the air.

The molten ball inside of you explodes, coating his length and squirting onto his thighs and stomach. You lay completely silent, convulsing and arching beneath him, consumed with bliss. You scratch helplessly at his shoulders, wordlessly begging, and Farkas complies, thrusting more sensually yet somehow rougher into you now. He covers your mouth again, and you allow the torrent of wild moans to erupt from within you as he continues to fuck you through your orgasm, every vein and ridge on his cock hitting you in all the right places.

Just when you think you might finally go unconscious, he pulls out and a thick ribbon of cum streams out onto your stomach. He looks to be reared back like a horse, holding tight onto your hips to keep from falling, head swung back as he shudders through his own orgasm.

Panting, he collapses onto you, practically forcing the air out of your lungs with his weight. You wrestle your arms out from under him and wrap them around his torso — or at least, as far around as they can reach.

“Fuck,” Farkas whispers hoarsely, enveloping you in his arms now and turning you both to your sides. You make a noise of agreement muffled by his chest.

“Are- are you gonna stay here?” He asks, a hint of nervousness in his voice. You make another noise, this one of more serene agreement. He exhales deeply and goes limp, pulling you closer to him. You were both far too hot and sweaty for his blankets, but not for your own skin against the other’s. Filled with contentment and… other stuff… you relish in his scent and the feeling of his body pressed against yours. You catch a glimpse of the moon from outside his window.

Who cares if he’s a werewolf, you think to yourself. Nothing could make me rethink this.

[strawberrykidneystone]

Shepard-Vakarian Love Nest

garrus vakarian x fem shepard

summary: garrus installs a security system while shepard redecorates

a/n: finished me3 and immediately replayed the whole thing again with slightly different choices,,, i'm obsessed and I need to cope with the heartache of leaving garrus behind to save the universe xoxo space jesus </3

tags: fluff to cope with the ending of me3, flirting, established relationship, shepard instead of y/n, colonist background shepardf if you squint

ao3 version

"garrus this feels a little... overkill."

"that's the point shepard, to overkill anyone who tries to break in."

shepard rolled her eyes playfully and looked around the apartment with her arms crossed. there were sensors on every window and door in the sizable apartment. she managed to talk him down from installing explosives inside, convincing him that it would be way too much paperwork and too much of a risk if she accidentally set them off herself. however, she had to give her boyfriend credit where credit was due, it did make her feel safer. especially since he installed thicker bullet-proof window panes and rolling steel covers for emergencies.

while he was working on making shepard's home safer, she was busy with making andserson's former apartment into her own. she wanted to make it less of a bachelor pad and more of a proper place where she and garrus could hang their hats at the end of the day.

while it was originally supposed to be a getaway just for her, it was too quiet for her taste, and more often than not she has the current and former crew of the normandy over whenever she could.

but for now, it was just the two of them.

she was comparing the current wood of the kitchen cabinets to a new red sample that she picked up. it felt a little silly to be concerned about the colors of the apartment while there were reapers destroying planets, but everyone needed a break now and then. this might be the last shore leave she would ever have. it was somewhat morbid to think about, the last time she had shore leave it was forced on her after she defended elysium despite all odds.

while she was lost in thought, garrus snuck up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist, resting his chin on her shoulder, "hmm i like the red, but a darker burgundy would look better."

shepard hummed and leaned her cheek against his, "i think that would look nice, you have quite the eye vakarian."

"i'm aware. you know i have great taste. especially in partners," he purred into her ear and nipped softly at her neck.

shepard chuckled and turned around in his arms, lacing her hands behind his neck, "that i'll have to agree with you on." she slowly unlaced her fingers and ran her hands down the front of his chest armor, looking up into his gorgeous cobalt eyes, "so, did you find the best vantage point to shoot intruders from?"

garrus chuckled and scratched the back of his neck, suddenly looking very sheepish. if turians could blush, he would be bright red. "there are quite a few adequate spots, however, i'll wait until you're done fully redecorating to make the spots permanent."

"'ppreciate that honey," she smiled and stood on her tip toes, pressing a chaste kiss on his cheek plate.

shepard walked over to her personal computer and ordered the new redwood for the kitchen, along with new paint for the walls. all the white walls were so boring, customizing this place as her own home gave her hope, something that she could look forward to coming back to. having someone with her to share it with made it all the better, giving her hope for the future and something to look forward to once this was all over.

even if he does insist that they need the latest security systems that he personally has to inspect and install, not trusting anyone else to do it right.

of course, she also wanted garrus to add in his own decorations; pictures of his homeworld and family, traditional turian art pieces, etc. shepard was even planning to convert one of the empty bedrooms into a painting studio for him.

maybe one day they would fill it with human-turian babies, or a bunch of krogan, depending one how things went.

a/n: pls let me know if i made any grammatical or spelling mistakes <333

[itsmarjudgelove]

Armor (Gusoku) with helmet signed by Bamen Tomotsugu (18th century).

Tokugawa Ieyasu (1543-1616) winning the decisive Battle of Sekigahara in 1600 and unifying all the local warlords under his rule, Japan returned, after a century of military conflicts, to peace and stability. This entailed, however, a significant decrease in the production of arms and armor, and by the end of the seventeenth century only higher ranking Samurai, e.g., Daimyō (feudal lords), were able to afford new, custom made suits of armor.

Accordingly, only few lineages of armorers survived. The Bamen School was one of them, tracing its origins to the turbulent late sixteenth century. Legend has it that some of their masters produced excellent shaffrons (Japanese: bamen) whereupon their employer, the Honda clan, allowed them to use the term as the name for their school. Tomotsugu, the maker of this armor, was active at the turn of the eighteenth century and the last great master of the Bamen School.

The helmet bowl is made from 84 ridged iron plates and signed on the inside: Echizen no Kuni Toyohara jū Bamen Tomotsugu Saku (Made by Bamen Tomotsugu, resident of Toyohara in Echizen province).

The cuirass consists of eight vertical plates connected with ornamental rivets, an interpretation referred to as byō-toji okegawa-dō. The armor is endowed with shakudō (gold-copper alloy) crests of three whirling commas which are associated with the Okabe family, the feudal lords of Kishiwada (present day Kishiwada City in Osaka Prefecture).

One of the key features of this armor is its extremely rare color scheme of the lacings of the kusazuri (skirt). Usually, the color of the lacing changes between rows, e.g., grading from bright at the belt to dark at the bottom, this pattern then repeated on each of the skirt’s segments. Here, however, the colors change between the seven segments, starting at the right waist in white, becoming gradually darker going around the torso, i.e. red, yellowish-green, and black. To create symmetry, the neck guard (tare or suga) duplicates the red lacing of the central skirt element, whereas the shoulder guards (sode) and neck guard (shikoro) of the helmet are completely laced in white and only pick up red color accents along their bottom rows.

Not only is the workmanship of this armor and its materials of the highest quality, the suit also represents a fine specimen of late tōsei-gusoku (modern armors) from a time before medieval armor styles were revived.

[carelessflower]

finders keepers

or the war prize alec plot bunny keep refusing to hop away from me

There was screaming, vicious curses, and wailing noises piercing through the palace. Another kingdom fell. It wouldn't be the first time, and far from the last.

Alec just didn't expect to be caught in between.

It was supposed to be simple. Alec knew the in and out of this forsaken place like the back of his hand. He knew what he was getting into the moment he caught his father's eyes. It was an order, and better if it was him than Isabelle. The Lightwood needed any support they could get.

It wasn't that hard to understand. His parents' past mistake had been waging war against the four kingdoms, and the peaceful sky of Alicante burnt scarlet. 

Alec's fateful run-in with Valentine wasn't that up to fate, he had made sure of it.

A man such as Valentine wouldn't be merciful to a guildless lamb, and why would he? 

A predator wouldn't need a prey's input. 

Indeed. 

So Alec bathed in lavender and bare except for the white fur wrapped around his body, watched as Valentine coughed up blood, stream of darkness pooled around the carpet till the gold goblet smacked against the floor with a hard thud. His eyes were wide open, a sense of bewilderment and rage, frozen forever. But Alec's mission was far from over.

He sprung towards the nearest exit when the ornated doors burst open and many hurried inside, whose armors indicated their foreign status to the land. 

Alec scurried to the side, face hidden while hugging his knees tight, shaking his body enough to signal distress but not draw any attention. He could feel the guard's footstep near and then far from him. One even let out a pitiful sigh looking at Alec's state of undress. 

He couldn't blame them. The former king had built a reputation for himself, and it wasn't uncommon to see fresh faces being taken in for a night and forever forgotten in the harem. At least, this time, the dead king's lothario nature was useful. The men, whoever they were, would group him along with the other concubines and servants, and Alec could escape from there.

In and out.

In and out.

In-

"Oh, oh my, what do we have here?" The voice was smooth, soft as silk, and it tingled all the right parts in Alec's ears, down to his very core.

Alec stilled. It was only years of training that prevented him from looking up at the man standing in front of him, and that much wasn't enough. He needed to get out of, and fast.

"Won't you mind a little introduction, perhaps?" The mysterious man continues, his voice gone softer than before. "I'm Magnus. How do I call you darling?"

Magnus. Magnus? But it can't be, his Magnus. It can't be his Magnus. He can't be here. Couldn't. His mother, his mother clearly said-

Alec's stubborn no-answer must have intrigued him, as a pair of patterned leather boots soon appeared in Alec's vision, a swirling pattern of black sun and star. Symbols of Edom's royalty. The higher the position they hold, the darker the sun and stars they were allowed to wear.

Alec felt a hand caressing his hair as if only they were in the room. The movement was painfully familiar, Alec's hand sook, not so lightly anymore. "You must have been so afraid, though rest assured, your tormentor can't harm you anymore." 

Another heartbeat. 

"You've certainly made sure of that, didn't you Alexander?" Magnus whispered.

Suddenly there was a coil of blue magic curled around his neck, his head lifted instinctively. At that moment, Alec didn't care how his arms and legs suffered the same bound fate, the way the hasty movement had the fur slipped off his shoulder, the perfect backdrop against his inky hair and red bitten lips, faded all except for Magnus.

Alec had dreamed of the day when he could stare at those burning eyes again and beg for forgiveness, he would let Magnus unleash Edom's fire on him until Alec was nothing but dust and shadow. But there was something different in Magnus's gaze, growing heavier by the minute. It's a welcoming burn if Alec was being honest, from face to chest, down to his exposed thighs.

"Magnus, I'm sorr-" His last word muffled into Magnus's shirt, Alec could do nothing when Magnus carried him. (He wouldn't want to anyway)

"Your Highness, how gracious of you to show your presence with us" Another voice appeared, seemingly bored. "I assume you've found the treasure you keep blasting dear Catarina about?"

Magnus paused to look at Alec in his arms, and smirked. "Yes. Definitely."

[phill-art]

Commissions open!

My art of a Dragonborn Bloodhunter!

Here's the description of the character:

Brief synopsis is that Asuna was a former bard singing of a tragedy that befell an extinct group of elves, generally considered taboo. After unknown assailants killed her for the unrest she caused, she made a pact with the elves to seek revenge for them both.

race: Black Dragonborn

class: Blood Hunter

sex: Female

personality: Perceptive and calculating, with a subtle and consistent rage behind her eyes.

age (what they look like in human years): 30's

height: 6'1"

weight/build: 160lbs, with some curves at the waist. Her scales make up a lot of the space her build takes up, and is relatively skinny otherwise. Her tail is longer than most, stretching around 4ft.

hair style/color: Purple frills, with a brighter coloration than the rest of her skin.

eye color: Green

skin color: Dark purple scales, with light purple undertones. Her spines and frills along her forearm are a more vibrant shade, like royal purple.

items/weapons: Weilds a longbow in the left hand which is infused with a red mist that comes off of the small handheld braizer that she holds with her tail. Her right hand is used for blood magic, with blood coming off and evaporating to fuel the red mist.

On her left hand ring finger is a simple engagement ring with a small purple gem set.

Get as detailed as you can with the outfit/armor (and colors).

clothing top: Her top layer is a set of studded leather armor that has barely seen use. The leather of most of the armor is a darker brown, with highlights in a darker tan color. All metal on the armor is copper. The armor leads to about her elbows. Underneath her armor is a dark purple performer's dress that covers her arms to the wrists. At the shoulders, she wears a fur cloak that wreaths her neck in a white fur, and dark fabric that rests like a cape down to her calves. A small strip of her former bright royal purple gown has been wrapped around her neck to hide a scar across her throat. 

clothing bottom: The top layer is the torn bottom half of her dress which flows down to just below her knee. The dress has had the bottom portion of it torn off for ease of movement. At the back of the dress is a split to accommodate her tail, which rests behind her and holds a small handheld brazier with burning embers inside, giving off a red mist.

footwear: She wears some black leather wrappings that cover the soles of her feet while leaving the claws out for traction.

[twilightdomain]

ID: two panels of a sketched comic. the first shows the silhouette of park chul-moo in the arched doorway of a room that is much darker than outside. dialogue from him reads, "I was wondering if you'd turn up." the second panel looks over his shoulder from behind, showing a hooded figure seated cross-legged on the floor in front of him, lit by the doorway but with their head bowed and hands bound in front of them. dialogue from chul-moo reads, "Again." end ID

this got. so long. it's under the cut. an ode to my favorite plot-relevant renown heart.

ID: a sketched, dialogue-heavy comic of guild wars 2 characters in two long vertical pages. the first two panels are the same as those above the cut.

The next shows the lower half of the hooded person's face, which is pale with faint scratches and bruises, and grinning nastily under a thin mustache. A loose bandana is pulled down below the chin so it hangs around his neck and he wears the shoulder guards of medium jade tech armor. Dialogue from him reads, "Like a bad penny."

The panels begin to overlap with each other. The next shows Chul-moo's face and shoulders from the front, looking unamused with slightly gritted teeth. Two merging dialogue bubbles from him read, "And what do the Kestrels think they stand to gain by wasting my time? We're the only reason Tetra hasn't already blown this whole forest to smithereens."

In the next panel, the hooded man (it is Ratthew the Vile) tilts his head up, revealing a truly scummy smile framed by strands of loose hair and topped off by several worse scratches and bruises. His dialogue is in two bubbles connected to him both here and in the next panel. It reads, "Oh, don't worry. There's another outsider doing the same in the Speakers' camp right now. And I guarantee they're not being as friendly about it as me." He says the last part in a large panel with a solid dark background that extends vertically behind the two above it. Both figures are shown from the side, facing each other and starkly lit by the doorway. Chul-moo's arms are crossed, and Rat looks up at him, still smiling, with his bound wrists held in front of his chest.

The second page starts with two panels side by side, simpler than the previous one. Chul-moo is doodled with raised eyebrows and wide eyes, gesturing loosely and saying "Great!!" Then with lowered eyebrows and holding his hands emphatically, saying "Why don't you go help with that then."

The next panel shows him again, drawn with the original level of detail, slightly backlit by the doorway. He has lifted one hand from crossed arms to wave it in the air, eyes closed with an irritated smirk, saying "I can even give you some pointers," and in smaller text outside of a bubble, "Please get our bread oven guy out of there."

The next panel shows most of Rat's seated form from the front and the edge of Chul-Moo's crossed arms from behind. Rat's smile has become more unassuming and friendly, his one blackened eye shut and head tilted slightly. His hands are still tied so he gestures slightly with his thumbs, saying "Well... The company here is so much nicer..."

The next three panels are the same size and shape, stacked vertically to the right of the previous one. The first two are close ups of Chul-Moo's eyes, first glaring down with one raised eyebrow, with no dialogue, then looking to the right with an unreadable expression, saying, "Is that right?" The third is a blank dark box with white text that says "Maybe we've been too forgiving then."

The next two panels are close-ups of hands; The first is Chul-Moo's armored fingers over the opposite elbow of his crossed arms, the pinky finger tapping slightly. The second is Ratthew the Vile's bound hands, seen from the side, with all the fingers comfortably folded besides the pinkies which are sticking out slightly. Dialogue extending across both panels says "Or if you mean it... Why not join us for real?"

A jagged tail leads from the last dialogue bubble to an even more loosely-drawn final panel with no frame or shading. It is being emitted by a boxy radio on a large table, surrounded by Kestrel Ayumi, Detective Rama, and Gorrik, who are all wearing varying concerned or weirded-out expressions. Ayumi is saying, "The little Krytan got caught again. I thought you said he'd be good at this?" Gorrik replies, "He should be! The Marshal said he did this stuff all the time! Maybe he's sick?" Another bubble from the radio says "—What a generous offer—." Rama says "I'm gonna be sick if I have to keep listening to this." end ID

something something first conversations. phew! this was a pain in the ass. thanks for making it this far.

[liloinkoink]

I SAID ID HAVE MORE LAMPLIGHT TODAY AND I MEANT IT. woe another middle-of-the-plot traveling scene be upon ye

The thing about Martyn is he’s never quite been sure when to call it quits.

He and his partner are passing through yet another town Martyn didn’t catch the name of, a seedy in-between where the brightest light on the street at night is Martyn’s own lantern. If he had a better option, he’d pass the place right by, but he’s barely slept at all over the last week and he’s ready to take just about any inn that he can find to lie down a while. This is his first mistake.

The second is stopping at the Sleeping Hound to ask for directions.

It’s almost darker inside the cramped old bar than it is outside on the street, low ceilings sloping onto too-short support pillars, with half boarded windows blocking what little light could have otherwise made it from outside. There are a few dingy lamps and loose candles strewn around the room, but none are particularly powerful. Martyn and his lantern are an unwelcome brightness, but it’s not like he intends to intrude for long.

Where he chooses to sit at the bar is his third mistake, though the seat may not have mattered overmuch in light of the first two. As it happens, the man he sits next to is observant, or at least observant enough to notice Martyn’s armor. It’s not exactly subtle, a distinct shine two shades too purple to be natural, especially under his lantern’s orange-white light.

Martyn leans his staff against the bar beside him, the lantern shrieking as momentum swings it over the wooden surface. When the lantern stops swaying, the man on the other side is staring at him.

“Sorry about the creaking,” Martyn says, rapping two knuckles on the wooden staff, his voice not entirely apologetic, “I know it needs oil and all that, but I just haven’t got around to it.”

Engaging is Martyn’s fourth mistake. This is the definitive point of no return, the exact moment he locks in the evening to be more trouble than it’s worth.

“I’m not too worried about the lantern,” the man says. He gestures one hand to the bracer on Martyn’s nearest armor, “That armor of yours is pretty, though. Why’s it glow like that?”

Enchanting is rare, but not unheard of. There are very few gods able to offer such blessings, and none as free with them as Martyn’s. Even a stole tool, once enchanted, can heft a heavy price if sold to the right person. Martyn’s own armor—a pair of forearm bracers and a chain mail vest—might not be particularly spectacular or expensive without magic, but with it… well, suffice to say, if Martyn weren’t quite so sentimental, he’d probably be rich.

So it’s not exactly a surprise when there’s a knife to Martyn’s neck within the next ten minutes.

“So here’s how we’re going to do this,” the man says. He’s close, far too close for Martyn’s liking. The blessings from his god are great, but enchanted armor doesn’t do a thing when the blade of a knife is already pressed against flesh of Martyn’s throat, “You’re going to take your armor off, and then you’re going to lie out all your tools, one at a time, and if you try anything at all, it’ll be the last thing you do. Understand?”

“Absolutely,” Martyn says, hands up by his face in surrender. His back is pressed against the counter, his sword pinned behind him. His axe is loose at his belt, but there’s no way he draws it before the knife at his neck makes it through his windpipe.

To his left, the lantern goes brilliant white, bright enough that Martyn’s raised arm cuts a distinct shadow across his own face. The fire inside crackles loudly, embers popping rapidly, like a lit match dropped into a box of firecrackers. It sounds, to Martyn, like desperate fists, pounding against a window.

Martyn can only imagine what his god must be thinking. Martyn knows he’s certainly regretting the sturdy latch on the lantern’s door—sure, he can carry his god into inns with significantly less trouble now, able to convince most innkeepers he won’t burn the place down in his sleep, but Martyn knows what his god can do when loose. Even now, Martyn hasn’t forgotten their escape the day they met. White-hot flames that were once Watchers, lit up like molten metal, are still burnt into the back of Martyn’s eyelids when he closes his eyes.

Martyn could really use that sort of fire right about now.

Behind Martyn’s assailant, half a dozen other patrons circle closer. Martyn has no idea if they know the man or just want to watch the show, but regardless of intent, they stand between Martyn and the door, and Martyn doesn’t see them letting him leave either way.

The smartest thing Martyn could do right now would be to cut his losses and let the man take his things. His god would certainly bless another set of armor and tools if he asked (and, Martyn suspects, even if he didn’t) and, honestly, what he has isn’t that good anyway. The axe is chipped, the sword is super old, the armor doesn’t even cover his upper arm, and he doesn’t even have anything on his legs. Really, Martyn had been meaning to buy a new set of supplies even before getting taken by the Watchers months ago, so this would be a great excuse for some big spending to get a decent set of upgrades.

But, well. Martyn’s always been so sentimental, and he’s never known when to call it quits.

Martyn could really use some firepower right about now.

“Alright,” Martyn says. He lowers his hands, slowly. His palms are open and his fingers are splayed wide. He makes a show of the careful, deliberate movement, watching the man’s eyes. His gaze moves from one of Martyn’s hands to another, vigilant for any sudden movements from either one.

Martyn knees him in the gut.

A kick follows, pushing the man away before he can kill Martyn for for the rebellion. His blade nicks Martyn’s neck, but a bit of bleeding won’t kill him. Martyn reaches to his sides with both hands. His right hand closes around a drink, the left closes around nothing, knocking into his staff.

Martyn throws the drink in his face at the same moment the staff topples over. His god’s lantern crashes to the floor, skidding out of reach. The door pops open as the lantern clatters across the wood, the sound of it all ringing against his attacker’s indignant shout.

Martyn draws the back of his hand across his neck to clear away the new blood. At the same time, his attacker wipes alcohol from his eyes with his free hand. Martyn glances down, at the red stain smeared across the back of his glove.

There’s a beat of silence, filled only by the crackling of fire.

“The hell was that supposed to do?” someone asks.

“Knocked his stick over,” says another voice from the crowd. The man follows his gaze, then pales, just a bit.

“You were reaching for—“ the man splutters, “You we’re going to set me on fire!”

“What? No,” Martyn says, unconvincing, as he once more raises his hands in mock surrender, “I would never do that.”

“You little shit!” the man says, “You should have drawn your sword when you had the chance!”

If asked, after the fact, to recount the ensuing scuffle that ended with the Sleeping Hound burning to the ground, Martyn would tell any listener about how he valiantly held out against a group of attackers with only his fists and his wits.

The truth is that there is only one attacker, an angry man with a short, busted knife. The truth is that Martyn’s back is against the bar, his sword stuck with nowhere to run. The truth is that Martyn raises his arms to block himself, and is simply lucky that the man decides to aim for that instead of Martyn’s jugular.

The man grabs Martyn’s shirt with his left hand, holding Martyn in place as he drives his knife into Martyn’s left arm, as close has he can manage to the joint connecting it to his shoulder. Martyn hisses in pain, but the noise is lost to the sound of crackling wood.

The truth about the burning of the Sleeping Hound is that Martyn struggles for all of thirty seconds before his god, free and furious, skates across the wooden floor and reaches the crowd ensnaring Martyn.

The effect is immediate. Martyn isn’t looking at the man unlucky enough to be nearest along his god’s path, but the sound of his god hitting his mark is impossible to miss. A flash in Martyn’s peripheral becomes a scream of pain, swallowed just as quickly by the roar of flame.

The man holding Martyn whips his head around to look, and Martyn takes the moment of inattention to shove away. With nowhere to run, Martyn simply drops to the floor, pushing himself beneath the bar.

The man doesn’t follow, too focused on the column of fire that was once a person. It latches onto the sleeve of the nearest stranger and he, too, is consumed whole before he can even think.

Shock wears off about then. Any onlooker within reach shakes off his horror and turns tail. Unluckily for the lot of them, Martyn’s god doesn’t need to be close to move—not when the whole building is made of wood.

A ring of fire explodes, swift and raging, outward from the crumpling masses that had been living men a moment before. His god moves not toward the fleeing crowd but past them, quickly devouring the door, the doorframe, and all the wood around it. The windows are still boarded, and so the one and only entrance vanishes in a haze of heat and smoke.

The man stands above Martyn, watching the fire with wild eyes rapidly filling with rage. He turns his gaze down to Martyn, squeezed between two barstools, his back against the wooden bar.

“You,” he snarls, “How are you doing this?”

“I’m not,” Martyn says, a tad too chipper for a man with a knife still in his shoulder.

“Bullshit!” The man drops down, leaning over Martyn. He’s unarmed, but that doesn’t stop him from grabbing Martyn’s neck with both hands. The fire hisses around them, but again, the man ignores it.

“Whatever it is you’re doing,” the man says, “Stop now, or I’ll make sure it kills us both.”

This is his last mistake.

There hadn’t been much left in the way of information on Martyn’s god, back when Martyn had first started looking. His search for something powerful enough to aid his escape from the Watchers had only turned up a few old books, most of which were badly damaged, most having been burnt or mangled beyond recognition. Despite weeks of searching for long-buried secrets, Martyn hadn’t been able to find even the name of the god he would one day pledge his life to.

There had, however, been a few titles.

As the man holding onto Martyn goes up in flames, Martyn can see why his god had once been known as the Blood-Crowned King.

The man howls in Martyn’s face, expression contorting into one of horrible pain. Martyn snaps his eyes closed—whatever comes next, he won’t want to see it.

The light against his eyes turns his eyelids red, searing brightness trying to break through, and then abruptly stops. The hands on Martyn’s throat disappear. The screaming cuts out. Warm ash dusts Martyn’s nose.

Martyn’s heart pounds. Somewhere around his left ear is a series of short pops, quiet but insistent. Martyn opens his eyes, leaning his head toward the sound.

He knows he should leave, in a distant, abstract sort of way, but the urgency and the immediacy of his danger is gone. Even as flames lick the floor around him and the roof disappears under a layer of smoke, Martyn can’t muster up any true fear.

Because even as flames rage within a breath of Martyn, Martyn doesn’t feel any warmer than if he’d simply taken a nap in midday sun.

The simple fact is that Martyn’s god would never hurt him. None of this would be happening if there was a chance Martyn would be in real danger. Even in a blazing building, Martyn is perfectly safe.

Somewhere else in the building, the last of the once-patrons wails. A table and a chair collapse into cinders. A stretch of the wall caves in. Martyn surveys it a moment, then turns his attention to the flames around him.

He sticks his good arm into a fire just to feel the flames tickle his hands. It flicks between his fingers, comfortably warm, like breathing on his hands to warm them on a cold winter morning.

Fire consumes one of the support pillars, and for a moment, Martyn sees him.

His god is tall, almost as tall as Martyn, with hair to his shoulders. He’s got a sturdy build, strong shoulders and stocky arms. A crown sits on his head, but dancing flame makes its true peaks uncertain. There’s a cape strewn over one of his shoulders, though it dissipates into flame long before it reaches the end, his whole body disappearing into fire around the upper thigh.

Most of the finer details of his form are lost to Martyn—something that might be jewelry on his wrist, or a pattern that might be buttons running down his chest—but Martyn doesn’t linger long on any of it.

Martyn’s god is looking at him. Martyn is looking at his god, and his god is looking back.

When Martyn’s eyes meet his own, his god smiles. The shape is undefined, every line and edge on his god dancing in and out of recognizable form. Even without consistency, the grin of Martyn’s god is as warm as every night Martyn has spent sleeping at his hearth.

Martyn smiles back, and his god is gone, cleared away by the fickle flicker of fire and a whirl of thick smoke. He reappears closer, consuming a barstool to kneel at Martyn’s side.

He may not have vocal chords, but he doesn’t need them to fret. There’s a crease in his eyebrows and a frown across his face. His head disappears, and when it returns, he’s looking at Martyn’s injury. He reaches across Martyn’s chest for the knife, but the flame can’t support his arm long enough for him to investigate it.

“I’ll be alright,” Martyn tells him. His face flickers out, and when it returns, he’s meeting Martyn’s eyes. He looks unconvinced. Martyn laughs, both at the expression, and because it delights him to know what such a thing looks like on his god’s face.

“Really. This won’t kill me. You haven’t seen it, but I’ve had worse.”

His god vanishes. A chair on the other side of the room spontaneously vaporizes. Martyn laughs.

“You worry far too much. I had it all under control,” Martyn scolds. The barstool on his other side catches, and his god is once again at his side, frowning at him, his ears flat on his head. “Don’t look at me like that.”

If possible, his god manages to look even less impressed. Before Martyn can double down, the ceiling above them buckles. His god’s head snaps up, less a defined motion and more a brush of the wind. They hear the break more than they see it, with the wooden paneling completely carpeted with thick smoke.

When Martyn’s god looks at him again, it’s with an urgent sort of panic that Martyn can’t find it within him to match.

His god looks to the doorway, and when Martyn follows his gaze, the door turns to ash. There’s a path straight to the door that’s completely clear of fire, but it’s more cosmetic than anything—his god is telling him in no uncertain terms that he needs to leave.

There’s fire on Martyn’s cheek. As soon as he realizes it’s his god’s hand, it vanishes, unable to stay without something to burn. Martyn knows a send-off when he sees one, especially as his god wisps out of form. He grabs at his cheek for the hand that isn’t there, as if it’ll keep his god from shapelessness.

“Wait,” Martyn says. His god reappears beside him, visibly worried, but obliging nonetheless. “It’s good to see you.”

His god huffs, a sizzling noise emanating from the wood behind Martyn’s head. Shimmering heat warps his face into a fond smile.

“We shouldn’t make a habit of it,” Martyn continues, reaching out with his good arm, just short of touching his god’s face in return, “But I could get used to this.”

His god laughs, and the whole building crackles with it. The smoke in the air thins, just a bit. He mouths something, but it’s hard to make out with the shape of his mouth so uncertain. Martyn thinks it might be ‘me too.’

Not for the first time, Martyn wonders what his voice sounded like.

Somewhere off to the side, a piece of the ceiling collapses, and his god sobers instantly. The fires at the edges of the room dim as his god reigns his blaze under control, but it’s far too late to stop the structural damage. Martyn may not be in danger of burning, but his god won’t be able to do much if he chokes on smoke, or if he’s impaled by an iron beam because he decided to stay and chat.

His god disappears again. This time, Martyn knows he won’t be able to sway him to come back. Crawling out from under the bar, Martyn pushes to his knees. The fire around the building is already dimming, his god corralling himself back into something manageable. Martyn looks to the center of the blaze and sees his staff, the wood still in one piece. The lantern is a bit more dinged up, but still in tact.

When the meager town’s impromptu fire brigade finally gathers on the scene, there will be no fire at the Sleeping Hound. It will look for all the world like the building simply extinguished itself halfway through a burning blaze, half scorched black charcoal and half pristine wood. Word of the strange fire spreads through the whole town by sunrise the next morning, with most of its residents stopping by the old bar to see the strange scene.

Martyn will not hear anything of the local mystery. He spends his night by the light of a campfire, bandaging his arm by the side of a crackling flame.

[coldshrugs]

94. tentative kisses given in the dark for io and estinien? :O

thank you owen and rinny!! i had a lot of fun with this one :>

brash and hopeful pairing: io / estinien word count: 660

The beach is empty, save for their meandering patrol. This is nothing unusual; despite the coastline’s more direct route between the Great Work and the northwestern Host outpost, travelers prefer the ease of the Perfumed Rise’s worn roads.

Estinien has no complaints. He and Io stroll in comfortable silence, each step slowed by soft pink sand.

They still call it “patrolling,” though their armor is back in the city, and they carry their boots in their hands. His mind is on her, and the kiss they shared a few days ago. Things have changed. The few moments spent together since have been thick with the same anticipation he felt that night, but the timing and company haven’t been appropriate for revisiting the thought. Tonight, however…

As the last sliver of sunlight melts into the sea, a salt-sharp breeze rolls in, gently tugging at hair and clothes. Estinien stops, catching Io’s wrist with his free hand.

She turns back to him with a curious half-smile, wind-swept and lit only by moonlight. “What is it?”

“You–” he says, and his hand slides from her wrist to entwine with hers– “are driving me mad.”

He pulls her closer, searching her face for a sign she might not want this. Might not want him. Io’s eyes, darker than the night descending around them, shine with mirthful interest. Her lips spread into an inviting grin. 

Her shoes hit the sand with a muted thud, and she lifts her hand to his chest. Estinien closes his eyes, inhales at the contact. The pressure of her palm over his heart, beating out of time. Her fingertips brush exposed skin. They tingle across his collarbone, then chart a path to his neck, where they rest, warm and soft, against the back of it.

“May I kiss you again?”

Estinien, eyes still closed, feels Io’s hesitant stretch up into the short distance that separates their lips. Her breath is on his face, her body brushes his, but not as close as he wants her. He drops his boots and pulls her flush against him, trying not to laugh at her little gasp.

“There is no need to ask. My answer will be ‘yes,’ without exception.”

But he doesn’t move. He waits for the press of her lips, timorous and tender, against his. It is only a moment before she melts against him, nervousness giving way to the heat that builds between them with an ease that surprises him.

Io’s touch is soft, observant, but sure. Her arms around his shoulders, her hands in his hair. Estinien smiles into the warmth of her kiss. His fingertips grope at her back, her hip, relishing the feel of her blouse bunching under his hands and the way she shivers when his fingers meet her skin. And gods, he could ask to lift it off her, right here on the shore, but no – no, there will be time enough for that in the future they walk into together. 

He stops himself, pulling back to rest his forehead against Io’s before taking in the sight of her. Her breathing is quickened, her eyes are closed, and she is appealingly disheveled. The smile she wears is new to him, somehow smug and bashful at once. He tucks the image into his mind, a precious little keepsake.

Finally, she meets his gaze. “Fine, no more asking. But we will be equal on the matter. You need not ask either.” She swallows, then tucks her face into the space between his neck and shoulder. “I am yours.”

The pounding in his chest is agonizing, an adrenaline rush he hasn’t felt in ages. He kisses her temple and lays bare his intentions. “On that, too, we are equal.”

She looks at him with that secret, satisfied grin. They stoop to recover their sandy boots, laughing at their previous eagerness. Hand in hand, they continue their façade of a patrol, unable to focus on anything but each other.

[piratemousey]

Bg3 fluff for non-ao3 people

Tav - Tiefling Bard

Tav x Gale

Bg3 act 3 spoilers

The group returned to camp. An eventful day of scouring Baldur's Gate for resources and allies. Tav traveled with Gale, Wyll, and Shadowheart that day. They'd managed to investigate a series of murders around town and it all ended in a high end tailor's shop. Covered in blood, they begin removing armor and packs first thing.

Karlach bounded up with Scratch and the owlbear cub in tow. "Hey-oh! My people! Out having all the fun."

"I got you a bear," Wyll said, pulling a small toy bear with switched eyes from his armor.

Tav laughed and set a bag of jewelry and bobbles on the table where Astarion sat. With a book in hand and a glass of wine chilling in one of the glasses Gale enchanted. He was waiting for them, though he appeared disinterested, enraptured by his book.

"My gods, you're perfect!" Karlach jumped up, sure that Wyll would catch her. He swung her around easily, using his dancer's feet to offset the force.

"Astarion, I brought you some stones to appraise." Passing judgements was one of Astarion's favorite past times.

"How did it go? Traversing Baldur's Gate without me?" Astarion asked, ignoring the bag.

"We're all Baldurians," Shadowheart pointed out, pulling off her gloves.

"Well, you hardly count my dear because you don't have a memory." Astarion responded.

"I lost "some" memories, Astarion," She snapped back.

"Wyll hasn't been home in years and lets face it Gale is Gale."

"Meaning?" Gale asked, an eyebrow arched.

"Wizards are absent minded," Astarion replied.

"You cast wizard spells, you know," Gale said. "I helped you learn how to shoot beams of fire at multiple opponents."

"But at heart, I'm a rogue." Astarion replied, his hand flattened against his chest.

"And me?" Tav asked. "I suppose I'm too doe eyed over the wizard to know my way around the city i grew up?"

"No, I think you know the city, you just don't know the darker corners like I do." Astarion admitted.

"That's probably true," Tav answered. "But, we did pretty well today. Where's Lae'zel? I found a sword that's completely unbalanced, she's going to flip."

"You've come to taunt me with the ineptitude of your smith's, an interesting strategy." Lae'zel appeared from behind her tent, her hair damp from training.

"So, Tav, tell me, how many?" Astarion asked, rolling his glass over his fingers.

"What?" Tav asked, a mask of bemusement.

"How many lockpicks did you use without me?"

"Eight," Tav spat out begrudgingly.

"Eight! My gods, a good day for you then was it. Seems being a jack of all trades doesn't necessarily make one skilled at anything, does it? You do sing pretty though."

"Astarion," Karlach said his name like a warning.

"I'm just making an observation," Astarion continued. "I use two lockpicks tops most days that I adventure with you, yet you insist on leaving me here, my gifts languishing."

"You love to lounge in your tent," Tav noted.

"I was only thinking of your scarce inventory. Burn through as many lockpicks as you like, I'm not the groups treasurer." Astarion lifted the bag of jewels and begins sifting through them.

"We'll need you tomorrow certainly," Tav said. "We're going to murderize that damned steal watch then break into the newspaper."

"How fun," Astarion bobbed his head from side to side with amusement. "Maybe I'll find a horrid guard to bite. One whose had too much bree I think."

"Most guards can't afford bree," Wyll commented.

"Look my love, a scroll of knock," Gale held the parchment up for Tav to see. "I could learn it right now and cast it right away."

"That's great," Tav threw an arm around Gale's neck kissing his cheek.

"Yes thats great. I'm sure it'll help that one time a day you can use it. " Astarion's good mood evaporating as his temper is ruffled. "The very idea that a scroll could replace my talents is offensive and you should all be ashamed."

"I can use it as many times as I like." Gale said.

"You really are trying to take all my fun, wizard." Astarion's hand shot out pointing to Shadowheart. "I'm sure you learned some memory spells under your former God."

"Yes a few." Shadowheart answered, confused at what Astarion was getting at.

"Good, Lae'zel, hold the mage down. He won't be remembering much." Astarion's gaze threatening as it landed on Gale.

"Maybe we can also get rid of his detestable earing." Lae'zel stepped forward, her training sword at her side still.

"Well, I wasn't going to tear into his appearances..." Astarion said, taken aback at first.

"He wears the symbol of his former lover," Lae'zel said, he fury boiling. "Mystra, a manipulation queen who would have him end his own life. He parades her token blatantly while wooing Tav with nonsense about stars. I've been to the tears, I've smelt them as they burn across your sky. They are not baubles for your vain seductions."

"I'm right here, folks," Tav pointed out.

"Mystra is magic," Gale stuttered, growing concern in his words. "... and I wield magic. It's not uncommon to wear a charm for the goddess."

"One whom you bedded," Astarion's smirked as he rhetorically pored oil over the fire. Things were going in a different direction, but he could work with it.

"Tav hasn't complained," Gale said, his eyes resting on the bard.

"Of course not, they're the nice one, remember?" Shadowheart said, her arms crossed.

"Tav? Does it bother you?" Gale asked, his voice thin with worry.

"I'm not going to tell you how to dress." Tav said avoiding eye contact. "It's not really about the fact that you bedded her, Gale," Tav said holding up her hands. "It's about the fact that she's terrible and she used you and threw you away."

"You shouldn't waste time honoring gods who would ignore you so easily." Shadowheart chimed in.

"You know what would make this better?" Karlach asked. "Let's go kill mystra."

"Now, hold on," Gale said. "Mystra is magic. You can't kill magic."

"You know I think of the word "can't" as a challenge at times," Tav smiled teasingly.

"My work here is done," Astarion gathered his wine, book, and the bag of jewels. "I need to go rest up for tomorrow. Lots of locks waiting. Maybe a few spells if you decided to leave the extra baggage at home, Tav."

Lae'zel remained beside Tav, her arms crossed as she glared at Gale's earing as Astarion sauntered away to lounge in his tent.

[syncopein3d]

After the Battle

(whump oneshot, f/caretaker m/whumpee)

The knight was unhorsed long since, his lance broken, his sword dull. When the last of his foes fell, he had ranged far from the field of battle, surrounded by looming oaks. He withdrew his blade from the body with difficulty. He had to kneel. An arrow stood from his cuirass in front. It had reached something important below his heart on the left. He knew not what, but his head was light and his legs were heavy, and he had noticed that the pain was beginning to feel dull and strange. There were other wounds. He felt bruises from maces, the agony in the right part of his chest was possibly a cracked rib, and a little hole in his side stung where a dagger had found him, but he knew it was not these that would kill him.

He had to lean on a tree to climb to his feet, looking around. There were dead men wearing the colors of both armies, dead horses, but the only things living were the crows and ravens. Night was falling, too cold for many flies at this time of year. Darkness would bring the killing frost. The knight turned slowly, trying to decide which way to go. He wanted his brothers in arms to have his armor, his weapons, to bury him and speak the rites of his gods. But he could not now tell which way he'd come from. The setting sun was so diffused by the shade that it was little help.

He took up a broken lance from beside a dead horse and put his back to where he thought the dying light was. His vision was spotty now, making it harder to tell. At least it was a direction. He did not want to spend his last moments quietly waiting. He limped grimly onward, leaning on the half-lance.

There were strange whispers in the wood. As it grew darker they grew louder. The knight stopped, swaying, trying to decide if this was real. His legs were numb now, and when he tried to walk again things went away for a moment entirely, spots crowding out his vision. When it cleared he was on his knees.

A cool hand rested on the back of his neck. He went to reach for his sword, but someone whispered words in a tongue unknown to him, and suddenly he couldn't move. A warm, effervescent feeling blossomed in his spine, traveling up and down. Long nails gently scratched the back of his head. Where was his helm? He didn't remember removing it.

"Easy, now," said a woman's voice softly. It was husky and sweet, hard to narrow as to age. "Your wounds are dire. I can save you, but I will need you still. I know what your kind thinks of mine."

He was falling backwards, unable to stop himself. The witch - for it must be a witch - lowered him, pulled his legs out straight. She moved around him as a dark blur, robed, a smear of gray against the browns and greens. The pain was fading. Not just the pain of the arrow, but of cuts and bruises and his aching ribs, smoothing gently away into warmth and tingling.

"Gods accept... My soul..." His eyes were closing in spite of himself. He felt so very light now. Floating.

"Perhaps one day," said a voice that seemed far off. The long nails scraped lightly through his hair. "But for now, you will sleep. Sleep, Sir Knight."

He tried to speak, but only a sigh passed his lips. Clear thought was no longer possible, and without it there was no ability to resist. He slid gently and easily into a deep, deep sleep.

The witch watched the lines of his face relax. Then she bent to the straps of the cuirass. Getting the arrow out of his liver would not be easy, but at least he would feel no pain.

[theflowerofthecommonwealth]

Power Armor Punch Part Fifty Eight

Masterlist

TW: suicidal thoughts, suicide attempt, self harm, and mention of past rape

Teshteal: *quietly* The guards wouldn’t even ask… I’ve been pinned against a wall so many times for that alone. *nuzzles her neck* I’m fine with cuddling…

Joyce: (Heart shatters into a million pieces when she hears that Teshteal was raped before. She cradles his head and rubs his back in slow circles, draping her leg back over him for extra security) “I’m so sorry that happened to you…” (Looks to the side for a minute, then down at him) “We can snuggle together all you’d like, I don’t mind. We can even take a nap together if we want.”

Teshteal: *softly, tearing up at the horrible memories* Thank you…

Jasmine: (Fusses in her sleep in the med room, her thumb having ended up in her mouth again. The shapes swirling in her dreams have gotten more darker and ominous, like they are looming over her)

Nick: *rubs her stomach and hushes her before singing the lullaby to her, hoping it helps her nightmare*

Jasmine: (The nightmares literally melt away when she hears the comforting lullaby and the motion of her stomach being rubbed deep in her sleep. The shapes start reverting back to gentle hues and softer angles, giving a more pleasant dreamy feel. She relaxes with her thumb still in her mouth, her other little hand clasping Nicks dress shirt)

Nick: *he’s gonna have that song burned into his hard drive by the time she’s woken up*

Jasmine: (She loves it though, it transports her to a more simpler and safer time in her life when she wasn’t living in crippling fear, depression, and self hatred)

Ma: (Is still ironing and mending up everyone’s clothes, making sure no hems or collars are frayed)

Joyce: (Thinks for a moment, then carefully speaks) “Would you like me to rub your back under your shirt? Mama tells me that skin-to-skin contact helps people with relaxation and relieves stress, it doesn’t have to be sexual or romantic in anyway. She says that’s why sometimes people these days can be so aggressive and mean spirited by default, they never had a proper hug or reassuring physical contact.” (Although some people are just plain evil and no amount of hugs and kisses can fix things)

Teshteal: *softly into her ear simply because it’s right there* I wouldn’t mind. *goes back to hiding his face in her neck. Timidly* Be gentle okay…?

Joyce: “Of course I will.” (Thinks back to how Donny and Ma do this for guidance, she doesn’t want to frighten Teshteal by being too rough or fast. She rubs her hands together and then pumps her right one into a fist multiple times just to make sure it’s warm) “I’m touching the bottom of your shirt and back now…” (Slightly lifts up his shirt so she can slip her incredibly soft and warm hand right hand under it, starting to massage a circular pattern that avoids his spine. She drapes her other arm around his shoulder and gently rubs his neck, listening intently to make sure he’s not uncomfortable)

Teshteal: *relaxes a little at her touch. There are raised and lowered ridges that mark where several scars from beatings that are still slowly healing. They used to be a lot bigger. Softly* If you have to remove my shirt, that’s understandable…

Joyce: (Quietly) “You can either roll it up or take it off or leave it like this, whatever makes you comfortable.” (Being extra gentle over any raised marks she feels, her heart twisting when she thinks about how he may have gotten them)

Donovan: (Come inside through the front door with a bundle of aged wood from the pile for the fireplace to heat up the living room as evening approaches. He walks into the living room where the fireplace is located by the sofa, walking slowly as not to startle Teshteal who seems to still be calming down from earlier)

Joyce: (Nods at Donny, giving him a half smile and wave)

Donovan: (Starts the fire for them, stoking it until it’s burning brightly so they both stay nice and toasty. He then rises and leaves to check on the animals again, honestly thinking that his sweet and nurturing little sister is only comforting a friend, not thinking more of it)

Teshteal: *decides it would be easier to take off his shirt, only moving his body and head to help get it off. After that it’s back to hiding his face away in her neck. Slightly darker lines, oddly smoother and more sunken in than the rest, zig zag and gather like massive veins along his back. Some of them seem to glow around where his tail starts*

Joyce: (Heart aches again for the poor gremlin man, knowing there’s probably a horrific story behind each and every mark. She moves her left hand down from his neck and starts rubbing his shoulder blades while her right hand focuses on his lower back. Her hands are very gentle with their movements, taking care not to cause any harsh pressure or pain) “Is this alright for you…? Am I too rough or too fast? Do you want me to remove my leg if it’s a bit much?”

Ma: (Comes out from the laundry room with an armful of clothes, passing by the two on her way upstairs to put the clothing away in the guest room. She takes out a double rolling clothes rack from her room and brings it to the corner in the guest room, putting the freshly pressed coats, jackets, shirts, and pants to hang. Everything else she puts in small bags and places on the dresser for their owners to collect later)

Gardio: *still working hard outside. He tosses some things in the bin, others for wood or scrap, but saves any mirelurk carapaces blown in to use for armor plating*

Teshteal: *almost melts at the tender rubs on his back* You’re doing just fine… *loving hum*

Joyce: “Good, let me know if anything is bothersome. I’ve never really done this before on someone else, it’s only been done for me by Donny or Ma.” (Gradually adds just a bit more pressure on any tense areas she feels, keeping it within a limit as to not hurt Teshteal. She tightens her leg and arms around him while turning her body slightly so he’s resting more on top of her, humming her favorite song to cause soothing vibrations)

Teshteal: *blushes slightly at the change of position and the hold she has on him with her arms and legs but trusts her enough to hold him like this. He breathes a very light moan of relief as the tension is released from a good few areas in his back*

Ma: (Comes back down the staircase to start on dinner for everyone, popping back into the med room to check on Jazzy and Nick another time before hand. She smiles warmly when she sees that the girl is fast asleep in her fathers arms) “Ah, you finally settled your little one down…”

Nick: *nods* Don’t suppose you could fetch her pipboy and the tape with the lullaby on it for me? Getting kinda tired of humming the same song on repeat.

Ma: “Of course.” (Leaves the med room and fetches Jasmines Pipboy from the guest room along with the lotion and her teddy bear. She returns and places the items on the table besides the chair, putting the lullaby tape on)

Jasmine: (It’s not one the same lullaby Nick was singing, but this cradle lullaby is still effective at keeping her calm in her dreams, it reminds her of her siblings and friends peacefully playing with her in their living room or piling together to sleep during a sleepover)

Ma: (Points to the cooler of IV fluids Donny had brought from the Harbor) “We can start giving her those instead of the blood as she’s still not drinking enough water or eating. I’m prepping dinner soon and I can whip up some porridge for her to eat later or bring another bottle of formula.”

Nick: *reaches for the cooler and takes out a bag of fluid. He hooks up a fresh line then flushes it and attaches the new bag*

Donovan: (Finally gets around to walking inside after a long day of doing manual labor, running to the Harbor and dealing with the idiots over there, and fretting about the Trappers. He enters through the lighthouse so he can rinse off in the shower stall and change out of his work clothes that smell like sea gunk and a barn. He’d work for longer but he might drop if he lifts another finger so it’s just best to call it a day. Besides, there’s still chores to do indoors that require less physical demand)

Gardio: *Doing his best to get as much done on the yard as possible. Feels he has to earn his keep*

Lucille: *if she knew how hard her dad was working she’d just feel more guilty about laying around in bed most of the day*

Joyce: (Happy and grateful that this seems to be working at helping him calm down, he feels less tensed up in her arms already. She continues to rub in circular motions along his skin while humming, closing her eyes as she breaths deeply in a pattern that she saw in a relaxation magazine)

Teshteal: *decides to kiss her neck a little. His tail wraps around them a little but it’s mostly slack*

Jasmine: (Stays asleep as Nick does the flush and the swap with only a quiet hum while her nose scrunches cutely)

Ma: (Glad that the teen didn’t awaken while Nick does this, she fears if the girl wakes up it will be difficult to put her back to sleep. Kinda like a newborn baby in a way) “Do you need anything before I leave to cook?”

Nick: *shakes his head in response*

Ma: (Starts to leave the med room) “I’ll be off then.” (Heads to the kitchen and washes her hands then dries them off on her apron, getting straight to work. She decides to make little bite sized chunks of steak served with a side of macaroni and cheese, mashed potatoes, and a greens salad. She turns on the oven and gets all her ingredients and pans out, flicking on the radio for some background music)

Donovan: (Shrugs off all his work clothes and enters the shower, sighing at the hot water that streams out as he gives himself a quick scrub down)

Joyce: (Hums a different and softer note at the kisses, her eyes fluttering open to look down at Teshteal. She starts rubbing any knots or tension she can find in his shoulders with her palms and fingertips, still being extremely gentle)

Teshteal: *notices the shift in tone and stops. He doesn’t know if it’s a good thing or not. He feels slightly more tense at that*

Joyce: (Gives him a light pat on the back to reassure him) “You’re fine Teshteal, it’s just no one has really been so truly sweet and caring with me to the point where I get butterflies in my stomach and get all rosy cheeked.” (Returns to massaging his shoulders while humming the same melody)

Teshteal: *smiles, lips still pressed against her skin* I could say the same for you, angel. *He goes back to gently kissing her neck*

Joyce: (Softly laughs between her hums, returning the smile as she looks at him under half lidded eyes) “I’m glad we feel the same…”

Donovan: (Finishes his shower and dries off throughly, dressing quickly. Instead of heading into the house section he chooses to climb the lighthouse until he gets to the little apartment at the top, finding it completely squeaky clean and spotless thanks to their guests having good manners. He grabs a leftover drink from the cabinets and starts slowly sipping, taking his binoculars and peering into them to give the area a quick once over in the dimming light)

Gardio: *still working outside to get as much done as possible, his glowing eyes helping him see in the dark. Once he gets as much of the yard as cleared as he possibly can, he takes the carapaces he found and starts trying to turn them into bulletproof armor or a form of chain mail*

Teshteal: *wonders if he should return the favor somehow. Surely she must be tense, too. Especially taking care of such a neurotic mess like him while having her own slew of issues. He starts slowly and gently massaging her shoulder and lower back through her shirt where he can, occasionally peppering her neck with more kisses*

Joyce: (Sighs with relief at the touch, she is a little sore and tense after today but not really due to Teshteal but her own stress that she has been dealing with. She’ll chat with Donny about it later, for now she can enjoy this moment)

Donovan: (Scans the waters for a long moment, taking another swing at his drink. No signs of boats of any kind, he won’t turn on the light tonight in order to not draw more attention. He only does this when there are actual boats in the water that may be lost or there is a raging storm as there was yesterday)

Ma: (Swaying and softly singing along to the radio as she chops cheese and sets the pasta and potatoes to boil. She wonders if maybe Nick can join them for dinner by leaving Jas on the sofa while remaining within her sights at the table, that is if she allows herself to be set down and if Joyce and Teshteal join them too)

Teshteal: *again, very careful with his hand placement. He stays in the range of her shoulders, back, and sometimes sides as he gives her massages, only increasing the pressure and preciseness of his fingers ever so slightly on a particularly tense and knotted up area. It’s the least he can do for all that she’s done for him. Softly with worry* Stop me if I’m pressing too hard. I don’t want to hurt you. *worried she might be pushing herself too hard after feeling how stiff her back truly is. Wonders how bad Jas’s is. Or Lucille’s. He doesn’t Even want to think about Gardio’s- the man lived through the apocalypse*

Gardio: *Lucille’s lack of taking breaks and working on a project to utter completion comes from him. He has not stopped working on the armor even as night falls. He whipes his brow, hammering chunks of mirelurk shell together to make a chest piece. Figures it’ll be light enough for Jas to use and it would be better than the leather armor she had on*

Dogmeat: *laying near the fireplace in the dog bed lazily*

Joyce: “Alright, I’ll let you know.” (Closes her eyes again because he’s doing so well) “Heh, you’re almost as good as Mama. She said she used to give in-home massages for rich folk in her town after working in her cafe for extra cash. I think that’s why we have so much bath stuff in storage.” (Smiles and jerks her head to the closet) “She has a massage table stored in there along with some prewar spa equipment. I think she almost had a heart attack seeing the blood soaked day spa on this Island.”

Teshteal: *smiles. It’s high praise* I try my best. *kisses her jaw and her neck again before focusing on the massage again. Softly, concern in his voice again* I know you love to help around here, but I’m worried you might be pushing yourself too hard. Try to take it easier on yourself, okay…? *kisses her neck again. He knows one thing that is important in this kind of thing- looking out for and taking care of each other. That part he’s absolutely certain about*

Jasmine: (Starts to slowly stir awake, taking her thumb out of her mouth as she yawns sleepily. Her head is still incredibly stuffy and she still feels burning hot on the inside, but she isn’t so dehydrated anymore)

Nick: *notices and smiles warmly down at her so she doesn’t start panicking at the IV* Hey, Rosie. You slept a good bit there. How was it? *pets her hair*

Jasmine: (Sweetly hums at her Dad in response while she cuddles up close to his chest, still drowsy. She hasn’t taken notice of the IV sticking in her arm, the process of getting that is a distant blurry memory in her mind)

Ma: (Singing along with the radio as she prepares dinner, the two trays of macaroni and cheese already in the oven. She’s currently working on the meat and mashed potatoes, a delicious aroma filling the air)

Lucille: *stirs from her bed. She hasn’t slept at all. Just thinking of how to improve the defense of the lighthouse. But now she’s smelling the lovely meal being prepared so she wanders down stairs to see what’s cooking and if she can help. She doesn’t pay any mind to Teshteal and Joyce- that’s their business* What’s for dinner? Can I help?

Ma: (Smiles warmly at Lucille as she turns around from cooking the chunks of tender meat in a bit of butter) “Steak served with macaroni and cheese, mashed potatoes, and a nice green salad on the side. You can set the table with the silverware to help and ask your father and Detective Valentine if they will be joining us for supper.” (Figures that her son will come here on his own eventually)

Lucille: *frowns at the thought of asking Nick anything since he’s been watching over Jas 24/7. Knows the moment she walks in, the girl will shy away and the detective will just glare at her for making her upset. It hurts honestly to think they’ve fallen so far. She nods at Ma* Alright. I’ll start with setting the table… *turns and grabs some plates from the cabinet and sets them down on the table. Then the placemats and silverware. She also grabs some glasses so everyone has one to drink out of then napkins to the side if they have it.

Teshteal: *smelled the food and his stomach starts to rumble after a few moments. He’d been so caught up with Joyce and trying to calm down that he didn’t realize he was hungry*

Joyce: (Softly laughs as her eyes flutter open to glance at her boyfriend) “You sound like Donny. He doesn’t like it when I do harsh work, he says I already have enough worry and strain on my plate.” (Hears his stomach rumble) “Oh, somebody has got the case of the hungrys. Luckily, Ma’s fine cooking can fix that.” (Kisses the top of his head while she giggles teasingly)

Teshteal: *smiles* I’m sure it’ll be amazing. Smells amazing, too. *looks up worriedly about what he said* Maybe he’s right… *moves to kiss her cheek lovingly* I’m sorry if I’m overstepping. I just want take care of my darling angel.

Lucille: *She walks out back to ask her dad first, wanting to avoid the drama of Nick and Jas as much as she can* Hey, Dad- *notices he’s working on armor* What are you working on?

Gardio: Mirelurk plated armor. Their shells are bullet resistant and I thought I’d use a few of them from the yard to make armor. Going to give this one to Jasmine since she needs something better than leather armor.

Lucille: *frowns again at the mention of Jasmine, especially since she’s the one who gave her the armor in the first place*

Gardio: Hm? What’s wrong?

Lucille: *surprised he can see her expression let alone the armor he’s working on in the dark but doesn’t remark on it* Nothing you can help with. *adopts a blank neutral expression* Ma wants to know if you’ll be joining us for dinner.

Gardio: Of course! Let me finish this armor first-

Lucille: *sees where he’s at* That’s going to take a lot longer than you think.

Gardio: *pauses and looks at the armor then grins sheepishly at his kid* You’re right. I’ll come in right now.

Lucille: *beams* Great! *spins on her heel and heads for the dreaded med room*

Ma: (Starts to place all the large serving dishes in the center of the table so everyone can help themselves again. She takes out the pitcher of tarberry from the fridge and places that in the center as well, still humming along with the radio)

Joyce: (Giggles at the kiss) “Nah, you’re not overstepping. You just caring for me at a valid reason.” (Continues to massage Teshteals back, realizing that she had slacked off while he was rubbing hers. They have to get up soon to eat, but she wants to stay in this warmth for a little longer)

Nick: *strokes Jas’s hair before reaching to replace the bag of fluid with another, this one high in vitamins she needs*

Jasmine: (Makes a noise of complaint when she sees that Nick is moving to replace the IV bag. She claws at his shirt to emphasize that she doesn’t want another one)

Nick: Sorry, doll. Just one more. *sets it up and goes back rubbing her stomach* You’ll thank me later, kiddo.

Lucille: *comes in with as neutral of an expression as possible* Will you be joining us for dinner?

Nick: I think so. This is the last bag we’re doing for now. I’ll have to find some way of sitting her within eyesight so she doesn’t think I’m missing suddenly.

Teshteal: *hums softly at the continued massage. He buries his face in her neck. Out of curiosity he does a very small and gentle nip there just to see what would happen*

Joyce: (Gasps at the little nip, then giggles with delight once again while gently squeezing Teshteals shoulders)

Donovan: (Comes down the lighthouse stairway and into the living room, rubbing his head. He gives Joyce a questioning glance but then sees Lucille over by the med room and decides to go over and check on Jas before asking what’s going on and why Teshteal doesn’t have a shirt on)

Jasmine: (Looks up and glares at Lucille, still so bitter from earlier and the last few days, it’s all pent up and boiling in her. She starts to sign incredibly fast, fast enough that it’s hard to tell what she’s saying but there are a few gestures she puts emphasis on. At one point she makes the “B” sign and aggressively brings it to her chin multiple times, then makes the “Okay” sign but forcefully shoves it towards Lucille fingers forwards. Finishing it all off by flipping the older woman with a snarl)

Donovan: (Walks up behind Lucille and witnesses this blow up. He can’t keep up entirely with what she said, but most of the harsher gestures are hard to miss) “Rosalinda!” (Wonders what the hell Lucille did to make Jazzy so bitter and angry towards her)

Jasmine: (Not sorry as she huffs and hides away in Nicks shirt, the equivalent of her walking out of the room)

Lucille: *picked up a lot of what she said thanks to her left eye and just looks defeatedly at the two. She’s not even angry. Just tired.*

Nick: *didn’t notice the defeated look as he gave a dissaproving glare down at the girl. Starts scolding Jas for her behavior, stopping the motion he was doing dead in its tracks* Was that really called for right now? I know you two have had your spats, but she only came in here to ask a question on behalf of someone else-

Lucille: *tired and dead sounding tone* It’s fine. I deserve it. *turns to Donovan and flashes an apologetic smile* I’ll join you all later. Go ahead and eat without me. *leaves before she has another breakdown in front of everyone. That’s the last thing Jas needs right now. Or hell. Maybe it’s what she wants at this point*

Teshteal: *smiles happily at the giggle and does more of those along her neck and collar bone where he can reach*

Joyce: (Gasps and giggles more at this while she ruffles her gremlins boyfriends hair, wondering if Teshteal is aiming to make her burst with joy or something)

Ma: (Had finished serving all the food and is wondering if she can get those two lovebirds to break apart just long enough to get through dinner)

Jasmine: (Seething with anger as she trembles, seemingly ignoring Nicks scolding while she closes her eyes and starts mouthing things to herself)

Donovan: (Watches Lucille leave with concern on his face along with shock at Jasmines rant, having caught that defeated slag Lucille had. He wonders to himself if he should alert her father of what just transpired, especially after last nights event where she ended up in the attic)

Gardio: *walked in the door, pleased with where he stopped but his face falls when he sees Lucille walking defeatedly up the stairs. He waits for just a moment so she doesn’t feel like she’s being chased down before going to the attic. Gets extremely worried the moment he sees her with that dead look she had at the nucleus. Softly* Lucille? What happened?

Lucille: It doesn’t matter. It’s not something that can be helped. Or rather, it doesn’t matter if I help or not.

Gardio: *sits with her* Jasmine…?

Lucille: *nods* I can’t even be in the same room without her getting upset somehow. I didn’t even say anything. Kept it all neutral just so I wouldn’t cause trouble. *mutters* Coming on this trip was a mistake. *covers her face* I should have shot myself at the spring-

Gardio: *pulls her into a hug* No, no don’t say that. Don’t even think it. *holds her tight, partly out of the fear he’ll lose her again* You did what you could-

Lucille: It wasn’t good enough. It’ll never be good enough. Better if I just stay away. *quietly* Or disappear.

Gardio: *sadly* You’ll have to face her someday… you can’t just run.

Lucille: I think I can. It would be best for everyone.

Gardio: *heart breaks hearing that* Not for me. Certainly not for Nick-

Lucille: Nick doesn’t care. Even if he did, his memory’s finite. He’d just as soon erase me from his memory as he would any case he worked a hundred years ago if I vanished. Just one less problem he has to deal with.

Gardio: I don’t think he’d do that, sweetie. Even then, he might care more than you think.

Lucille: Nick stopped caring the moment he realized I was a threat to his kid’s mental health. He’s just being polite about it. *scoffs* I’ve worked with him- this version at least- long enough to tell when he’s just being polite. *raises her right arm as proof*

Gardio: *somber hum* I knew the original Valentine, darling. I know he wouldn’t just turn his back on someone he cares about because someone new entered the picture. What you’re describing doesn’t sound like Nick at all…

Lucille: *goes quiet then shakes her head again* Doesn’t matter… I deserve to be called everything Jasmine said I was.

Gardio: What did she say?

Lucille: *goes quiet again*

Gardio: *gets even more concerned* What did she say?

Lucille: Don’t get mad at her, please? I’m tired of causing trouble. Discuss with Nick, maybe but don’t yell at her?

Gardio: I promise. *nods*

Lucille: *tells him everything Jas said through ASL. She winces and tears up at a few but she keeps it surprisingly together*

Gardio: *eyes widen in shock then he frowns and holds Lucille more protectively, fully aware of how that could send her over the edge again* I… I see. I’ll talk with Nick. *tears up himself as he his daughter’s hair* For now, please know that I love you. That you matter to someone. *lip trembles as he tries to smile* Okay…?

Teshteal: *hums softly* We should probably get up. My stomach won’t shut up now. Really rude of it, don’t you think? *cheeky joking smile up at her. Not at all forced- it’s a genuine attempt at humor*

Joyce: (Gives a bright smile and chuckle back at his humorous joke, gently stroking the lower sides of his stomach while giving him a quick smooch on the cheek) “Oh yes, very rude indeed to make us end our loving embrace prematurely.” (Waits for Teshteal to get up first as he is partly on top of her)

Jasmine: (Sniffles in her Dads shirt, then bursts into waterworks with loud wails while desperately choking to suppress them. She’s not sorry for what she did, but Donny’s reaction right now and from yesterday is getting at her because she knows that she’s changed for the absolute worse and he and Ma can tell for sure)

Nick: *hushes her. Might be a bit before they can join everyone else for dinner*

Donovan: (Decides to leave when Jas starts crying because he wants to scoop her up and cradle her in his arms until she stops weeping. Damn those sweet doe-eyes and pitiful wails that tug at his heartstrings. He leaves Nick to deal with his kid while he heads off to the dining room for dinner)

Ma: (Gives her son a questioning and concerned look at all the commotion that just happened nearby)

Donovan: (Waves it off and mouths “later” as he takes his seat at the table, realizing just how hungry he is. He still waits patiently for everyone else who’s coming to take a seat before serving himself though)

Lucille: *blinks*

Gardio: *quietly, almost in a panic* Okay…?

Lucille: *buries her face in her father’s chest* Okay…

Gardio: *sighs tearfully. He’ll have to discuss this with Nick later. Hasn’t been around until recently but he senses this has gone on for far too long.*

Lucille: *just shuts her eyes. Wishes she’d just disappear*

Teshteal: *blushes at both gestures but giggles at her response and pushes himself up using the couch this time. He successfully untangles himself from her legs and arms without incident, grabbing his shirt and putting it on. He extends his hand to Joyce to offer his help*

Joyce: “Ah, what a gentleman.” (Takes his hand as she gets up from the couch, tossing her blonde hair back and smoothing it out so it isn’t sticking outwards. She winks at Teshteal before leading him by the hand to the dining table, smiling at Donny and Ma who are waiting)

Donovan: (Gives a tired smile at his little sister, gesturing at the two seats across from him for the two to sit down at)

Joyce: (Sits down in one of the offered chairs and pats the spot next to her for Teshteal. Her emerald green eyes light up at all the food, her mouth watering at the macaroni and cheese as she locks her gaze on it)

Teshteal: *sits next to his girlfriend happily and starts dishing up*

Jasmine: (Crying bitterly from the fever, stress, anxiety, and how downright awful she feels as a person compared to her younger self)

Ma: (Hears Jas crying so she walks to the med room to check in. She frowns sadly at the wailing girl and extends a hand to offer Nick a handkerchief for his daughter) “What happened, hm?” (Pats Jazzy’s head gently, glancing to check how much fluid she had taken while she was sleeping)

Jasmine: (Just keeps sobbing like a little child, grabbing onto Nick with all her strength)

Ma: (Reaches behind her and takes out a sheet, setting it down on the table besides Winnie and the lotion) “If you want to join us after she’s calmed down some, you can wrap her up for coverage and set her on the sofa while you dine within her sights.”

Nick: Will do. *gives Jas the bear and rubs some of the lotion on her back* Ssh…

Jasmine: (Starts to calm down to quiet sniffles almost immediately despite the feelings getting bolder. She’s still extremely exhausted even after the long nap she took, and crying makes her head hurt even more so it’s best to stop sooner rather than later)

Ma: (Nods at Nick then returns to the dining room, taking a seat at the head of the table between Joyce and Donny before she starts serving herself) “Make sure you chew your meat thoroughly, I don’t want any of you choking on a piece.” (Airs out a napkin and places it on her lap)

Donovan: (Serving himself a balanced portion of meat and mashed potatoes followed by the salad and macaroni) “Of course we will Mama, don’t worry.” (Pours himself a glass of tarberry water)

Joyce: (Scoops up a mountain of macaroni and cheese on her plate, taking a bunch of salad as well when both Donny and Ma send her a look)

Teshteal: *catches that look. Really hopes it isn’t about what they’d been doing*

Gardio: *petting his daughter’s hair. Considers staying around her at all times to make sure she doesn’t… do anything to herself*

Lucille: I’ll be fine… please stop worrying.

Gardio: No. It’s my job to worry. I’m your father.

Lucille: *can’t argue with that. Quietly while wishing she’d never existed to cause him such heart ache* I’ll be fine… Go eat. I’ll be down in a moment.

Gardio: I want to believe you, baby. I really do, but I’m sensing that if I leave right now you’ll do something terrible.

Lucille: I won’t. I promise…

Gardio: *hesitates then softly* Have you eaten much today?

Lucille: Some eggs. A couple pancakes.

Gardio: So not much… How about we get some dinner. It might help you feel better.

Lucille: *quietly if it gets him to let go* Okay…

Gardio: *smiles a little and lets go, getting up and helping Lucille to her feet*

Lucille: *follows him down listlessly*

Gardio: *Walking slow enough so she’s within eyesight at all times*

Nick: *when the bag finally finishes, he disconnects her from the line and wraps her up to carry to the living room*

Jasmine: (Fusses a little when she is disconnected and her IV catheter has to be touched but settles down again when Nick swaddles the blanket around her as a few slow tears dribble down on her cheeks. She holds Winnie tightly while she snuggles up to her Dads chest, humming a somber note as she cries into his shirt)

Donovan: (Frowns at his sister and her food choices) “You need to eat more balanced meals…” (Remembering that she drenched her breakfast in syrup and whipped cream) “Here, give me your plate.” (Takes Joyce’s platter out of her hands and starts adding more meat and mashed potatoes, scraping some of the macaroni and cheese back into the tray)

Joyce: (Pouts at this as she sits back in her chair with her chin on the table) “But I love mac and cheese!”

Donovan: “And I love you and want to make sure you live a long, happy, and healthy life.” (Hands the better portioned plate back to her)

Ma: (Tucks a napkin in her collar) “He’s right angel face, you can’t eat that unhealthy all the time.” (Picks up her fork and knife and starts eating)

Joyce: (Takes her plate back from Donny and also starts digging in, actually very grateful that these two care about her enough to stop her from gorging herself full of whatever her heart desires)

Teshteal: *lets out a small “oh” at the realization it was Joyce’s meal choice*

Gardio: *comes in and sits at the table*

Lucille: *sits next to him in the same spot as breakfast, moving slowly, face still quite defeated and dead. She doesn’t make a move for the food at all*

Nick: *picks Jas up once she’s all swaddled and takes her to the living room sofa, sitting her up with Winnie* I’ll be at the table if you need anything, doll. Just over there, okay?

Lucille: *shrinks a little hearing the two enter the livingroom*

Jasmine: (Clutches Winnie to her face, glancing over to the table where she can see the remaining empty seats at the end under her teary eyes. She nods, cuddling up on the sofa with the sheet tightly around her. Just as long as Nick is nearby and she can mostly see or hear him she’ll be fine with laying here for awhile, but she will start to get anxious if its for too long)

Ma: (Smiles warmly at her two guests, noticing the expression on Lucille’s face but she doesn’t say anything about it) “Glad you could both join us. Please, help yourselves to as much food as you would like.” (Gestures at all the large plates filled with food) “But do leave some room for dessert, you probably don’t want to miss out on that.”

Donovan: (Perks up when he also hears Nick and Jas in the living room, noting to himself that the girl is no longer crying out loud)

Joyce: (Looks at her brother, face getting just a tiny bit serious) “Donny…”

Donovan: (Turns back to her, reading her expression and the silent question she’s asking. He reaches out and takes her hand from across the table) (Softly and patiently) “I told you not to worry about that and to let me handle it, there’s nothing you can do to stop it.” (Strokes the top of her hand, some worry gleaming in his eyes) “So it’s useless to stress yourself all the time.”

Joyce: (Casts her eyes down at her plate, then nods while flipping her wrist around to squeeze his hand before drawing it back to eat)

Donovan: (Squeezes her hand back then takes his fork and knife) “And no, there was nothing lurking out there. You’re safe Jojo.”

Lucille: *slow nod at Ma but only gives a dead stare at her blank plate*

Gardio: *as he dishes up* You’re not going to eat…?

Lucille: *dejected* I don’t deserve it…

Gardio: You may not feel you deserve to eat, but you do need to eat *sighs and takes her plate. He grabs a small portion of each food item and puts it back on her placemat* Try eating this at least.

Lucille: *stares at the food blankly then* It’s just going to go to waste…

Nick: *sits down next to Gardio but noticed what’s going on* Not like you to turn down a good meal, Lucille. What’s the matter?

Lucille: *looks away in shame*

Nick: *looks to Gardio in confusion*

Gardio: *serious almost foreboding tone* We’ll talk about this later…

Nick: No- we ought to talk about this now.

Gardio: Not at the dinner table, Nick. Let’s just let everyone eat in peace. *sighs* She hasn’t exactly had a good couple of days. *rubs the despondent women’s shoulders*

Teshteal: *looks a bit worried at the situation*

Ma: (Was split between the two conversations between her guests and her kids. She gives everyone an equally worried look, especially at Joyce and Lucille)

Pirate: (Whines from under the table, sensing the uneasiness)

Joyce: (Snaps out of her train of thought and also looks around) “…What happened? Did I miss something?”

Donovan: (Puts most of it together as he was there for Jasmines blow up, but he figures there is so much more to the story so he doesn’t say anything. He knows for a fact that something went down between the two girls, sowmthing big because Jas doesn’t just wake up and decide to choose violence against someone for no apparent reason)

Ma: (Pats Joyce’s shoulder) “Just eat your food, my dear. You need your energy and strength.”

Joyce: (Confused, but she starts forking food into her mouth while her eyes glaze around at everyone)

Jasmine: (Curled up on the sofa, staring off at nothing while thinking of nothing as she silently keeps crying)

Nick: I won’t probably have much time to talk after. Not with Jasmine acting the way she is. Best to get it out now.

Gardio: I’d rather not. Not with how delicate the situation has gotten. Consider making a way for us to speak alone. I’m sure you can do that. *looks at Donovan and Ma*

Nick: Jasmine-

Gardio: *stabs his fork a little too hard on accident at the mention of Jas, the plate clinking loudly. He’s not exactly happy with her right now but he’s not about to yell* Will be fine with Ma and Donovan watching her for a few minutes.

Lucille: *flinches at the sound the fork makes. She goes back to playing with her food, not even eating it*

Nick: *frowns. Every time he’s left her in someone else’s care she’s ended up high or hurting herself thus far* I have my doubts.

Gardio: *gruff huff* Please don’t make me discuss this right now, Detective Valentine. Please-

Lucille: *grabs her dad’s arm* I’ll be fine. It’s okay. Just tell him before this gets out of hand.

Gardio: *sudden concerned look as he turns to his daughter* You sure…?

Lucille: *nods*

Gardio: *sighs and looks down*

Nick: Tell me what…?

Gardio: *looks lost for a moment then sadly at Nick* Lucille almost took her own life yesterday…

Teshteal: *drops his fork in shock*

Nick: *eyes widen, slowly setting his fork down as the reality of what he just said hits him like a truck*

Jasmine: (Bites down on her lip to suppress a scream of alarm and fear when the fork hit the plate, more tears flowing down her face while she hides behind Winnie as she listens in intently. Her heart practically stops in her chest when she hears that Lucille, her sister, almost ended her life… Because of her. Her mouth goes dry while she feels her chest compress in a sicking way, the most horrific thoughts baring down on her. She almost killed another close family member…)

Ma: (Covers her mouth in shock while placing a hand over her heart, looking on with sadness in her eyes at the almost lost of life they experienced)

Donovan and Joyce: (Share a glance, both remaining quiet at their seats)

Pirate: (Whines from under the table, pawing at Joyce while she stares up at her with puppy eyes)

Donovan: (Silently rises to his feet, realizing that Jas can hear them from the couch and he doesn’t want her thinking about this the wrong way again)

Jasmine: (Already standing with the sheet wrapped around her. She limps to the door of the laundry room, pain rippling through her with every step but she doesn’t care. She’s a fucking curse on everyone around her… A curse that destroys people on the inside out until they meet their inevitable doom. A damned curse who needs to taken care of once and for all until she leads another poor unfortunate soul to deaths door)

Donovan: (Sees the teen slip into the laundry room and follows after her with worry on his face) “Rosie?”

Nick: Lucille… *at a loss for words* Why…? Why would you even try to do that?

Lucille: *sighs* Because nothing I do matters. No matter how hard I try, it doesn’t matter… I’m always just going to be in the way. Or useless.

Nick: *quietly* Where’s this all coming from…?

Lucille: *goes quiet*

Jasmine: (Shuts the door to the lighthouse, spotting the bars that are used to block the door on the floor. She drops the sheet and quickly lifts those up to block the door, turning and running up the stairs as fast as she possibly can despite the blinding pain that could send her falling backwards)

Donovan: (Rushes up and tries to open the door, cursing under his breath as he hears the stairs creaking from the other side. He runs out the side door to heads to the handmade boat elevator on the outside. There’s a weighted sense of dread boiling in him, already knowing what the girl is thinking) “C’mon sweetheart, please don’t do this…”

Jasmine: (Makes it up to the little apartment in no time, doubling over as she tries to breathe under all her tears and strained gasps for air. She might’ve popped a stitch or two with the harsh movements of running up the stairwell, but she doesn’t care)

Donovan: (Stumbles in the dark to find the button to call the elevator down, swearing again when he feels the button is stuck)

Jasmine: (Spots the emergency pistol strapped to a box in the wall and takes it, loading it with a single bullet. She grabs a picture frame from off the desk and smashes it on the floor, taking a thick shard in her hand. It would be a sad and pathetic way to go, blowing out your own head while only in your underclothes at the top of a lighthouse, but it doesn’t matter. And it’s actually fitting, because she is a pathetic and miserable creature who doesn’t deserve a graceful or heroic death for all the pain, death, and sorrow she’s caused since she was born)

Lucille: *looks up and notices Jas is missing from the couch* Just go check on your daughter. I don’t think she’s taking the news well. *knows she’s going to get blamed for whatever happens* You can yell at me later.

Nick: Yell at you? Why would I do that? Jasmine’s actions are her own.

Lucille: It’ll be my fault anyway. Please just go after her before something bad happens.

Nick: I- Lucille, we need to talk about this-

Lucille: No we don’t. Jasmine’s in danger. I’m not. She’s more important after all-

Nick: *stands abruptly* MORE important?! That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard you say. Why would you think that?!

Lucille: Nick, you’ve done nothing but glare at me every time Jas gets the slightest bit upset by something I’ve observed. You even made me swear to stay quiet around her because she’s the most fragile thing in the world to you. *despite how dead she sounds, there’s a hint of frustration* I’ve tried everything outside of that to help her since the incident in your office, since I slapped her for punching Curie, but the girl is dead set on hating me.

Nick: Can you blame her-?!

Lucille: *doesn’t even acknowledge his response* The least she could do is show some appreciation… but I suppose that ideal got lost with a lot of other things in the war these days…

Donovan: (Whacks the jammed button multiple times until it unsticks itself then waits for the boat to come down)

Jasmine: (Starts carving the same words she had written in her notebook into her skin with the shard, just like the people in the vault did so many times to remind her of the kind of person she truly is. In the other hand she holds the gun tightly, planning on using it when she’s done telling everyone what she thinks of herself. She writes the words especially deeper on her chest and stomach, then her thighs. Her hand lingers over the lower part of her stomach, remembering that awful time just before the war when she was carrying a child and that thought only cements her negative feelings even further)

Donovan: (Jumps onto the makeshift elevator and sends it back up, horrified when he sees that his fears were proven correct. He stretches out an arm and takes two slow steps towards the girl) “Rosie, can you put down the gun and shard for me so we can talk…?”

Jasmine: (Automatically points the gun into her mouth with the safety off, her breathing picking up while she backs herself against the furthest wall from Donny)

Donovan: (Stays still and raises both hands in surrender) “Alright, I’m not getting any closer.” (Takes a deep breath, looking on at one of the most disturbing scenes he’s ever seen) “What’s going on in your head right now, Ro-Ro? What are you thinking?” (Gives her a pleading look) “Talk to me sweetie, please…”

Jasmine: (Doesn’t respond as she trembles, keeping the weapon pointed at herself as she glares at her childhood friend with cold eyes)

Nick: You brought a lot of this on yourself- your trust with Jasmine.

Lucille: *stands* I’ve been trying to fix it. I’ve been trying so hard. I’ve been neglecting settlements to take care of her. I’ve put everything on hold for her. One things pretty fxcking clear from all this- nothing I do fxcking matters. I’m just going to be some brute that makes everything worse- that’s what I’ve been since 88. That’s what I’ve been since the Prydwen. Since the Institute. *spiralling* I’m a monster. A murderer. Kellogg was right-

Nick: Kellogg? Lucille, he’s dead. What’s Kellogg got to do with any of this?

Lucille: *freezes then decides to run*

Gardio: *stands suddenly and runs after her* Lucille!!

Lucille: *pulls out Kellogg’s gun, thoughts racing. Knows she’s failed Jasmine by now. She has no idea where she is. Doesn’t matter. She can’t protect anyone*

Ma: (Stands and rushes after them both in concern for Lucille’s sanity and safety)

Joyce: (Watching on with wide eyes, turning to Teshteal as both her mother and brother have left) “What’s going on…?”

Donovan: (Realizes that Jas isn’t herself at the moment, she’s buried deep under whatever is torturing her mind and causing her to act out like this. He needs to melt her down before he can get anywhere with her otherwise he’ll be talking to a brick wall) “….Do you want me to tell you what I’m thinking instead?”

Jasmine: (Still says nothing)

Donovan: (Starts talking anyways, willing to do anything to distract her from pulling the trigger) (Calmly) “I’m thinking that right now there is a goddamn miracle standing before my very eyes. That one of my bestest friends, whom I could get away with calling my sister, and greatest inspiration from my childhood is alive after she was so cruelly ripped away and the entire world blew up into smithereens.”

Jasmine: (Sniffles and tenses up at his words, leaning on the wall because it’s so hard to keep upright or keep her mind straight with all the ripping pain she’s feeling. This girl Donny is describing isn’t her anymore, that little girl is long off dead and replaced with a mere husk of a person… A blood thirsty monster who curses everyone she touches. A worthless bitch who deserved exactly what happened to her at the vault and after it for all the damage she has done)

Donovan: (Keeps talking) “And she’s hurt indescribably inside, so hurt that she’s willing to throw everything impossible that she has accomplished away by ending her life. But I know that she doesn’t actually want to call it quits deep down just yet, because she’s a fighter who’d spit on the grim reaper any ol’ day and walk off with her head held high.” (Starts trying to approach again)

Jasmine: (Trembles even more, shaking her head while pressing the weapon to her mouth as a threat. He’s speaking nonsense and contradicting every voice that’s screaming in her skull, it’s making her head hurt even more and her chest compress to the point that it too hurts like hell)

Donovan: (Notices her trembling increases as he halts again) “Poor baby wants to break down right now and start crying from all the physical and mental torture she’s endured for far too long, and that’s okay because I want to help her start healing from all that. I want to do everything in my power to point out to her the light again that she had once radiated herself…” (Takes another deep breath, terrified on the inside but he remains calm and composed) “She’s bone tired from fighting everything, everyone, and herself all the time. She just wants to finally take a long nap on a giant marshmallow in Candyland. So I’m thinking that my main priority is to get this little girl who’s priceless to me back to safety downstairs so she can rest off this fever and get bandaged up once more.”

Lucille: *running out into the fog. Just wants to dissappear. Telling herself she failed everyone. That she’s a horrible person better off dead. She couldn’t protect the people she cared about most*

Nick: *gives chase after everyone else*

Gardio: *catches up to her and grabs her synth arm*

Lucille: *screeches and tries to pull away* Just let me disappear!! I’m doing everyone a favor!

Gardio: Lucille, please! Be reasonable!

Lucille: I am! I’m a horrible person who deserves to die!!

Gardio: *keeps pulling on her arm* That isn’t true!!

Ma: (Stopped when Gardio caught Lucille and watches from the sidelines, holding her shotgun in hand just in case they get some unwanted visitors)

Jasmine: (Thinks Donovan has too much faith in her, he’s waiting on a broken, fragmented miracle that won’t ever be put back together)

Donovan: (Rubs his hands together) “How I’m going to do that is still unknown. But like I said, you’re priceless and precious to me. Therefore I won’t give up or back down and leave you here or ever…”

Jasmine: (Wants to say that she is a lost cause, that he’s wasting his breath on someone so insignificant and worthless as herself. But when she opens her mouth she can’t speak, just whimper weakly. Other than being peoples eye candy, what else is she good for? Solo mercenary work where she doesn’t have to interact with people, just get in and do the job and get out? That’s it, those are her two options if she wants to live without burdening anyone anymore. She’ll probably end up blending the two and go back to being the sly, steel hearted, seductive assassin she was trained to be. That thought makes her inwardly vomit, she rather be dead)

Donovan: (Finally notices that the cuts she carved into her soft skin are actually words, more specifically insults. He frowns even deeper as he reads them, heart twisting when he realizes this is how she views herself) “And who sold you those lies? Because they’ve clearly never met my Rosie. They have never seen the courageous, talented, smart, happy-go-lucky girl who blazed around like a sparkling ball of joy, ready to brighten everyone’s day or protect them from those who sought to ruin it.”

Jasmine: (Shakes her head violently, pressing the shard into her side again to make slits to ease her pain while she mouths “No” repeatedly)

Donovan: (Holds out his hands again in desperation) “Please don’t do that to yourself… Not just for the physical consequences but also the mental strain it puts you through. I know you’ll say it feels relieving, it feels downright good. But in the long run it does more harm to you than you can think right now… Trust me please, can you do that at least?”

@lucilleandherrobots

[thenixkat]

Gods of the Seven Seas

(Fake digimon group in the same vein of the Royal Knights, Olympus 12, and Demon Lords)

Cthyllamon  

[ID: A picture of the digimon, Cthyllamon. Cthyllamon is a transparent blue monster based on a sea angel. It has tattered purple wings, squinted yellow eyes, and a red skull marking on its chest. It has a black leather belt with a grey metal buckle around its neck. Part of its right flipper is black and stitched onto the rest of its flipper. Its ling thin tail is covered in bandages. The corners of its mouth have sticthes on them and it has two long antenna on its head.  /End ID]

Regalecusmon 

[ID: A picture of the digimon, Regalecusmon. Regalecusmon is a fish person monster based on an anthropomorphic oarfish wearing dull red crustacean armor on its limbs and shoulder. It has blue skin with a silver belly and inner thighs and darker blue stripes down its back and the outer sides of its limbs. It’s head extends out as a fish’s body and has a bright red fin running down it with three red ribbon-like fins coming out the top of its head. It has round yellow eyes.

On its left arm is wearing a large lobster claw with electricity running through it and the shoulder piece of its armor. In its Right hand is a jagged glowing dagger with a hilt wrapped in bright red cloth with a tassel that ends in a blue fin. It has a bright red loin cloth attached to a belt made of fangs. It wears a gold headpiece and mask.  /End ID]

Leviamon 

[ID: A picture of the digimon, Leviamon. Leviamon is a red crocodile like monster with two tails exhaling rainbow colored clouds of mist from its nostrils. It has a pair of bright blue fins running down its back and tails and sets of blue fins on all four of its legs. It has thick black scales down its snout and head and around its eyes. On its belly it has orange scales.  /End ID]

Marin Angemon 

[ID: A picture of the digimon, Marin Angemon. Marin Angemon is a transparent pink monster based on a sea angel. It has round green eyes, a gold ring with several characters on it around its neck, and a red heart shaped marking on its chest. It has a pair of wings shaped in a way to evoke feathered wings. It has two long antenna on its head. /End ID]

Xiangpengmon (not officially a Deep Saver but its a fish and a dragon and a bird that lives in and rules part of the Net Ocean) 

[ID: A picture of the digimon, Xiangpengmon. Xiangpengmon is a bird monster with the body of a scaly blue dragon with a pink fin running down its back, a fan of pink feathers at the end of its tail, four yellow scaly feet with four toes each, a tan colored underbelly, grey-white wings, and a white cloud-like mane. 

On its face is a gold mask with long red tassels. From the top of its head is a long white tassel billowing in the air. On its wings are white clouds with a gold spike emerging from them and a gold ring around the spikes. Around the base of its neck is a gold ring with a red cloth with white and gold patterns hanging from it. It has gold rings with characters on them on its front legs. It has a set of fins that turn into clouds on its hips and another set on the middle of its tail. White clouds extend from the pink fan of feathers at the end of its tail. /End ID]

Jumbo Gamemon 

[ID: A picture of the digimon, Jumbo Gamemon. Jumbo Gamemon is a giant bipedial cyborg turtle monster with canons for hands, a canon at the end of its long tail, and a canon at the tip of its nose. Its body is green and the underside of its belly and neck are red. There is a red ring at the end of its tail before the canon as well as red rings at the base of the canons on its arms. It has yellow lenses on the scopes of its arm canons and yellow lights on the flaps above its eyes. Its canons, several small guns on its joints, and toes are grey. /End ID]

Giga Seadramon

[ID: A picture of the digimon, Giga Seadramon. Giga Seadramon is a cyborg sea serpent with a grey-purple and yellow body with blue lights on its fins and nose. It has red eyes and a purple mane of hair. /End ID]