#he lost his everloving mind!

[littleapocalypsekitten]

"He was fired by 81 million people and he's having a hard time processing that." A close second, not on here: "I have been a leader on fertilisation!" Early on, I thought that was going to get memed to heck and back because, well... since when has an easy jizz joke passed anyone by? But then he started talking about people eating dogs and sex-changes on illegal aliens in jail.

[outletcrash]

were all mad here...

i think i finally have a mad hatter design! he looks a little young here but this is it :)

the talking crime dog poodle is his service dog marchie (the march hare!). jervis is functionally blind due to his albinism (a trait i gave him after the white rabbit) and needs help kidnapping and brainwashing and the like. since he's a neuroscientist, he developed a device that can scan her brainwaves and interpret them as various prerecorded messages. think those buttons that people train smart dogs to use but automatic.

jervis had a bit of a mental break and uses his knowledge of the mind to create his own wonderland. alice is important, yes, but the real goal is a whimsical disorienting lawless world with a large cast of characters (people he kidnaps). at his worst and most delusional he doesn't understand abduction is bad and you cant just kill people who get in your way.

he's a GENIUS but he's very shy and doesn't communicate well. most people don't know how smart he is. little guy is too short he gets lost between couch cushions....

he's violent and strange and childlike and shows up when you least expect it. the dork squad is canon. he uses he/him pronouns but hes not like a Man or a Dude or really anything at all. jervis is the brains and marchie is the brawn (shes an absolute darling but will bite to disfigure. crime dog. batman lets her go to arkham bc he knows he will not survive the night if he separates them.)

ps. alice in wonderland scared the everloving SHIT out of me as a little kid. that scene where alice cries because she cant find her way home and the cheshire cat shows up? hell no. i was crying tears of HORROR. although i did like when the talking pansies showed up. theyre in the picture if you can spot em ;)

[thegreymoon]

The Story of Minglan

Unbelievable where they chose to end the last episode.

What else am I supposed to do except start another one immediately? 🤬

***

Do we really need these two idiots on the scene right now?

They do seem to be hinting that Qi Heng is past his incel phase, though, so that is always a plus.

***

LMAO, of course he would run into a burning building to rescue Minglan 🤣🤣

I guess he's not past his incel phase after all, but I dislike her a whole lot so I can't even feel sorry for her for having a poor excuse for a husband.

***

Oh, thank goodness.

At least it is turned the right way.

***

LMFAO, impropriety?

What do think will happen? That he and Minglan will fuck while she's giving birth and the house around them is burning down?

Anyway, I am no huge fan of his, but go, Qi Heng, go! I don't care who saves her, as long as she's saved!

***

LMAO, seethe.

***

OMG!!!! 🎉🎉🎉

How is he big and fat, though, if he was born prematurely?

***

LMAO, this is NOT a newborn 🤣🤣

These huge, perfectly clean, not at all crinkled babies always crack me up during childbirth scenes 🤣🤣

***

This was the stupidest thing I've seen happen on this show.

First of all, her, bursting in like the deranged lunatic she is, just stabbing people left and right, and then Gu Tingye showing up yet again, to overshadow Minglan during yet another pivotal moment that should have been entirely hers. This was so unnecessary.

***

It should have been Minglan to end Aunt Kang, one way or another. I am beyond mad they took this from her to give the spotlight to Gu Tingye. This was supposed to be her CULMINATION, what we were watching her grow towards, and in the end, she was just a weak woman who needed protecting from the big strong man. So disappointing, 67 whole episodes of character development flushed down the drain.

***

LMAO, no good news for schemers and evildoers today!

I can't stop laughing at her flabbergasted face 🤣🤣

***

Didn't they say in the last episode that she had gone into labour prematurely?

They can't even keep their plot straight.

***

All else aside, this baby is the cutest!!

***

Can someone please explain to me what the hell happened here?

Didn't she set fire to the house with that lantern?

Or were there two fires, one set by her and one by Shitou as revenge? I am so confused.

***

I just rewatched this scene. So, at the very least Tingwei and his wife believe that Shitou set fire to their house too as revenge.

***

She is done with being respectful, LMAO 🤣🤣

It is time someone told these psychopaths to stop. Everyone just keeps coddling and enabling them until they burn everything down. Quite literally.

***

LMAO, she is now blaming Gu Tingye for her bad relationship with her son and his wife. Of course.

***

Oof, sweetie, that smacks of PPD 😬

Let's not go there, there are *checks notes* six more episodes to go, which means enough time for a major showdown or two, what with the Wangs still out there and pissed off, and Lady Qin losing her everloving mind just across the yard from you. You need to stay sane!

***

I mean, it's not like I don't see their point and all, but is additionally pissing off an already pissed Emperor really a good idea? 😬

It's not like they have an HR department here where they can go if their boss decides to, idk, make them a head shorter or something.

***

Welp. Here we go.

Here I was, worrying about the Wangs and the Gus, completely forgetting the dumpster fire that are these ungrateful royals.

***

The cutest 🧡

***

Delightful.

***

So, the Emperor has lost his entire goddamned mind.

***

Everybody is losing their goddamned mind this episode.

***

LMFAO

Shitou remains my favourite! 🤗

***

OH MY GOD

Invoking Aunt Kang as her witness? 😬😬 That is not going to go down the way she expects it to.

[onyourhyuck]

13:00PM

His Karma Series | JN, HC. reaction to their children coming home with a bad grade from school.

Tags: @everloving-avenue hehe I finally did something for his karma <3

PART TWO ANYONE WITH THE OTHER KIDS?

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

MINJAE - JENO

The man comes down the stairs seeing his son seemingly looking lost at a paper in deep thought. At first Jeno didn’t want to question it as his son didn’t seem to even notice him standing by the doorway now leaning against the wooden pillar.

“Minjae?”

…

“Earth to Minjae!” Jeno now said to catch his son turning around. The boy looks back with a soft gasp and hides the paper down between the hands.

Jeno’s eyebrows furrow. “What are you hiding there, son?” It’s very unusual of Minjae to hide something. Well, he might not be the type to tell how he feels often. He knows his son rarely hides stuff away from him however.

It was strange.

Minjae saw his father come down and sit next to take the paper so he could look at it. What he saw was a list of grades but one subject was quite bad. Minjae looks down almost ashamed as he was quiet.

“Sorry I failed literature this semester.”

Now why did it slightly break Jeno’s heart to hear his own son apologise for some grade that can be easily fixed? He knows how smart Minjae is so he wasn’t too worried. Minjae hardly gets bad grades anyways, so it’s nothing to be too worried for and it seems like Minjae was the only person who’s actually stressed about this.

He feels his father look at him with softer pair of eyes. “Minjae…”

The younger boy was preparing for a lecture. ‘You should do better in school’ or something like that. Instead his father gave his back a soft stroke and puts down the grade paper.

“You think I’m heartless or something? Why would I want an apology from you.” Jeno let’s out a soft chuckle as he pulls his son into a longing hug. It struck Minjae to be quite surprised but it felt good to be embraced.

Somehow he feels his heart calm down. He worried for nothing and he apologised for something that didn’t need a sorry at all.

“I have the smartest son in the world, just because you failed one class this semester does not change my mind. And so you shouldn’t apologise or hide your grade paper.”

“Now tell me why you struggled? Maybe I can help.” Jeno said pulling away from the hug. “Actually… I might be useless on helping you. Why don’t we ask your mom instead?”

Minjae smiles teasingly. “Dad I think mom is the better choice here.” Afterall Areum was a journalist…

SEIJA - HAECHAN

“Oh my god my dad is going to ground me, Miho.” Seija was complaining as she saw her grade paper. Let’s be honest she was never going to be an amazing student.

She’s never gotten a good grade at all unless it was gym classes. And heck she sucks at every subject but it’s not that she wasn’t smart at all. Seija was quite cunning and clever.

However Seija was just so bad at studying. Miho was her best friend and childhood friend too. He was Jisung’s and Mina’s kid, who are like uncle and aunt to her because they are close friends to her father.

They both suck at studying actually. Miho was probably even worse than her…

Or maybe not… maybe they’re as bad as each other which is why they’re such close friends.

“Come on it can’t be that bad Seija.” He said rolling his eyes.

Miho smirks grabbing that paper out of the girl’s hands and glancing over at her to see what his best friend was complaining about, he thought it couldn’t be that bad. Well, he was wrong.

The moment he looks at the paper he gasps. “Holy crap your father is going to disown you.”

“Wow! Thanks Park Miho! Give it back now asshole.” Seija cursed grabbing the paper back as she glared at the taller boy. Seriously so much for being a good friend right?

“I think I figured that out by myself. I’m so dead…” Seija whines as they’re walking home but then they hear a sudden voice behind them.

“Who’s dead?”

The voice brings them back together to turn around slowly with the widens expression seeing Haechan standing there with an amused expression, it’s like he heard their all entire conversation and now they’re both screwed. Mostly Seija.

Miho looks back at the shorter girl nudging her. “Say something.” He whispers.

Seija shoved him as she looks at her father giving a small wave. “Ahhh, dad what are you doing here?”

“I’m picking you up because it’s Friday, did you forget you’re not staying at your moms place tonight?”

Ah yeah. It was Haechan’s turn that Seija sleeps over at his house. She completely forgot that she was going to his home over the weekends.

You see, Haechan and Ryujin were together, until they broke up a few years ago and decided to co-parent their daughter Seija.

So now Monday to Thursday would be Ryujin turn to have Seija meanwhile Haechan takes his daughter on the Fridays and weekends.

“I forgot.” Seija said back as she clears her voice. Haechan points his eyes down to the paper and moves one finger at Seija to tell his daughter to give him that paper and to show it to him.

He knew already what it was, but he was very much amused and wanted to tease his daughter.

“Come on turn the paper around Seija and show me.” Haechan said standing there but his daughter was being slightly stubborn so she looks away.

Miho stood there witnessing his friend not replying and bluntly avoiding showing the paper as she was rather ashamed. She didn’t want to get grounded either.

“Seija.” Now said Haechan sternly and Seija sighs turning the paper around and letting Haechan take it from her hands now.

There was momentarily silence from Haechan as he stares at the grades. Of course he wasn’t impressed with them but is he really all that bothered by grades that can be fixed with a little bit of work?

Haechan sighs. He didn’t want Seija to think he’s going to punish her for having bad grades because it’s definitely showing that she struggles with school work and more. But Seija wasn’t the most vocal about her struggles. You see Seija likes to pretend she’s tough and that she has everything in the bag and that she doesn’t need her parents help.

So he always thought Seija did well in school. “Seija why didn’t you tell me you struggled with your classes? I could’ve helped you out.”

She heard how her father now spoke in a soft yet firm tone that shows he’s serious but also gently reassuring her now. He wasn’t mad.

“I don’t want to burden you or mom.” Seija admits now sighing.

“You do realise it’s more of a burden if you don’t communicate with us? Come on Seija. I won’t ground you but next time tell me if you are struggling okay?” He said now as he brings out his hand and pulls Seija with a warm hug.

“Oh and Miho, come here kiddo. Show me your grades too now.”

The boy looks back at Haechan flustered. Now he’s going to get criticised too.

[verifyemailmyass]

HC that Cacao gets lost in thought a lot of the time. People think he's brooding or planning defence, when a good 50% of the time he is just thinking of random nonsense.

He has that unmedicated ADHD swag bc i love him and he needs to have my problems.

Some advisor or something asks him what's on his mind and he says "cake" and their like "oh he wants cake!" NO he wants to learn how to bake to make a specific layered cake, not to eat it, but because it looked cool and he now wants to learn how to make cool cakes. So he's pondering how in the everloving fuck he is going to learn when he is a king and this is technically supposed to be below him. Therefore it has to be someone who wouldn't tell anyone... his thoughts just started spiraling on from there

[nochi-quinn]

I've been reading Time to Orbit: Unknown at a friend's suggestion and just got caught up. I started off just making notes of stuff I wanted to post once I was done so I wouldn't get accidentally spoiled in possible notes or that just wouldn't be relevant later, but quickly became a liveblog just because of the kind of person I am. it makes very little sense in places and sometimes there are multiple chapters in between any commentary, but here it is:

it is remarkably easy to procure an axe on colony ship Courageous

kudzu is inevitable

“In your medical opinion, doctor,” I ask, “what in the everloving fuck?”

no dogs on luna. they just run right off the damn thing.

tinera. you agree.

“You would be truly amazed just how often ‘serving humanity’ and ‘obeying the law’ are, in fact, diametrically opposed concepts.”

“Sure, we’ll make sure to be better liars next time,” Tinera says. “That’s all I ask.”

Okay I can't quote this entire conversation about the kill switch but let it be known I really want to

“If you go to jail, should be for something cool.”

Crew bonding by making fun of the captain for their cringe childhood interests

“Do you guys remember that factory in Sengki?” Adin asks. “Where the AI to the apartment building that housed most of its workforce noticed that all its residents were sleep deprived and added two hours to the clocks, throwing production into chaos for a month?” comrade Sengki AI

they're Vaults. they're Vaults in Space.

“Everything is wrong with everything" if that's not a fucking mood

countdown to throwing Sands out an airlock

tal. you agree.

I deeply love every time they talk about "pre-Neocambrian" anything, it feels so accurate to how we talk about ancient socities now, just reading so much into everything based on far too little data to be so sure of ourselves

"Captain Sands rubs his temples" welcome to the Courageous

you can't kill MOVIE NIGHT, you absolute monster

can we PLEASE throw Sands out an airlock

"That’s how science works, right? (I’m not a scientist.)"

found the cannibalism

before going to the next chapter, I don't believe Sands figured out shit about shit, he just wants to Solve A Problem so he looks like A Good Captain

If Sands Has No Haters I Am Dead

“Are you asking how many this Friend killed, or how many it was convicted for?” “Which is the bigger number?” “Guess,” it says, with a little smile.

I'm going to shove Sands in a locker and then throw the locker out an airlock

fuck yeah adin, get his ass

FUCK YEAH ASPEN GET HIS ASS

aspen no

(I don't know what I expected honestly)

“I still want to try violence, actually,”

FUCK YEAH ADIN GET HIS JOB

“You’re both utterly terrible examples of humanity that the universe would be better off without! It’s not a competition.”

just saw No Mercy Percy in the Patreon box

(it's weirdly heartwarming to see the patreon box grow over time)

ohh, I like the Texan paper flower custom, that's really sweet

Truly fascinating how the instant Sands is in the ground I'm back to smiling at every other line

like this will obviously change but I feel like it's important to note

you KICK meringue

you CANNOT, 118 chapters in, casually drop that aspen is colorblind. like.

I knew shit was going too well

would it be weird to have one eye be colorblind and the other not? what would that even look like?

"minor injuries" YOU LOST AN EYE

aspen is going to burn every copy of every single one of their books

("they're probably digital" they will burn the computers)

BEE MOVIE SURVIVED

“It says ‘This product was manufactured in a facility that processes peanuts.’” oh adin bb

"It’s not eavesdropping. It’s sociological research."

oh, they's cannibals

that's cannibal behavior

Aspen talking like Dinesh now that they're trying to speak Texan is my favorite

"when you change your mind" is just the most casually gross thing to say about tinera not wanting to get her hand fixed

if the eyeball starts talking to them uchikoshi is gonna sue

“Aspen,” Tinera says, “has anyone ever told you that you’re a nerd?” “Not so much, these days. You’re usually distracted by Tal being a much bigger nerd. Like light pollution.”

the Hylaran politics in general and regarding the colonists specifically is reminding me of old stargate episodes and I'm here for it

aspen is obviously daniel

okay teleportation was not on my bingo card

oh, they've got meningitis. that's not great.

"The problem with talking to an AI is that I can’t punch it."

okay so they've DON'T got meningitis. not sure this is better.

Bobby Tables mentioned

Bobby Tables plot device!

hey. hey aspen. whatcha doin buddy

HEY ASPEN???

and a little child will lead them

oh god kim's gonna try to fix tinera's hand isn't she

oh god kim tried to fix tinera's hand AND the friend's brain didn't she

I knew my immortal was gonna show up in here at some point

fascinated by how hylaran society is pretty much literally a big kindergarten class bc it simply makes so much fucking sense

tal doing complex flower crown math

"As your captain, I order you to enjoy pancake dinner with me.”

DANDELION I'm gonna cry

pretty sure their "repair indefinitely" plan is how you get the space station from outer worlds

or, how dandelion's explaining it, the quarian fleet

my reaction to the "they'll see how right we are eventually" thing is so strong and I do not know why

noooo greyed-out "next" button my behated

[valaruakars]

Hi darling, i love you idea so much to celebrate our boy, so here are my numbers 2, 3, 6, 10, 15, 16, 54, 55, 57, 87, 112, 127 Please give me the most Dominant and jealous Viktor ever uwu

Most dominant and jealous Viktor ever, huh? That would be the Machine Herald, then. Picked a few of these lines that fit the best. Double the word count because last one, best one 💖

Also I hear you asking, "What the everloving fuck do you mean by too many teeth?" This, my friends. This.

Tags/Warnings: 18+, MH!Viktor x AFAB Fem!Reader, exhibitionism, public sex, jealousy, possessive behavior, groping, gloved fingering, orgasm denial, Reader has an augmented arm

You hate the Chem-Barons.

Viktor hates the Chem-Barons.

But the Machine Herald? He tolerates them. Meets with them and their lackeys, even. Has to, because the success rate of his augmentations is exponentially higher when Shimmer is involved. He needs the medical grade variety, not what’s bought off the streets where it’s cut with impurities and improperly handled. He needs it from the source, and negotiates accordingly.

It’s none of your business. Typically, you don’t go. But as his notoriety has grown—the metal man on Emberflit Alley that can take away your suffering—safety has become precarious. Just yours. You’re nobody special; just a token from another life, and you don’t have a laser claw. All you have is your wits, your loyalty and a newly fitted arm that doesn’t do anything exciting, but at least you’re alive.

Now he takes you everywhere.

Him and his too many teeth, you can feel his sneer behind the mask when people look at you in the street; when they shape their lips to whistle, but think better of it. Has something to do with a metal whirr behind you that you can hear but not see with your gaze fixed forward, head held high.

He’s different now, this man with your long lost lover’s voice, but the jealousy stayed and he remembers what it felt like to love you. It’s made him possessive.

And, well…

You kind of like it.

It’s kind of fun, even, to see what he’ll do when one of the cronies escorting you in gives you the wrong kind of attention. The kind where their eyes linger in all the wrong places, and their hand trails down your arm when they think Viktor isn’t looking. He is, always. The mask just makes it hard to tell.

Hard to kiss you, too. But in the short time you’re waiting at the long, empty table, sat in his lap without a chair of your own, he lifts it enough to shove his strange tongue into your mouth. As you whimper and try to keep pace, he watches your face, your reactions. You can tell by the yellow light that brightens the darkness behind your closed eyes.

He snaps it down, shuts you out abruptly when a door clicks open and people start to file in—some with old augmentations, some with Viktor’s new ones. You know his work on sight.

He’s not done with you, though.

Low, dark synth in your ear says, “I don’t like people touching what’s mine,” and delight twists into your gut like the shrapnel that nearly missed your liver.

Your permission is a whispered, “Please,” spoken with kiss bitten lips, slick and puffy. The kind of please that says use me; do whatever you want.

Only part way through the meeting does he strike—a vigilance for lecherous eyes that are not his own. You can feel it too, the weight of being watched by someone at the table. The one who licks their split, sickly lips when your eyes pass over them, surely.

The hand that had a vice tight grip on your waist eases, and slips beneath the hem of your shirt. He’s not subtle like he used to be, but who would stop a soulless, metal monolith from doing what he pleases where it concerns his little fucktoy? Who would raise a word against him for reaching up to cup the warm swell of your breast, or acknowledge the apathy with which he claims what’s his?

They’re cowards, the lot of them.

Except for maybe Renata, who is terrifying and paying you no mind.

There’s a violent shift in the atmosphere. Literally. Someone draws a knife and shouting breaks out across the table, but his modulated voice is all you hear.

“Only I get to touch you like this,” he murmurs, tugging down the edge of your bra inside your shirt. He thumbs over your nipple, rolls it harshly between the cold, finely ridged metal of his mechanized hand. Only he can hear your breathing stutter, or feel the way you go ridgid to choke down a whine.

Your composure holds, though—spine straight, eyes fixed out the windows. Indifferent.

Perhaps that’s why he drops his hand out, and slips the other up your skirt instead.

Your eyes flare with a sick, thrilled terror as you clutch the hem down over his hand. He wouldn’t like if anyone truly saw you—your bare, soaked cunt—when he wrenches your panties aside. That’s just for him.

Discreetly, you open your legs just enough for the press of his fingers. It’s his human hand this time, warm through the leather glove with which he hides it. Two grainy fingers slip through your pussy and roughly push inside until his palm sits flush.

It takes everything you have not to make a sound, stretched so suddenly, sweet and burning. Is it mercy or torture that he doesn’t move? Just fills you nice and full so that anyone who looks too closely will see who you belong to. One or two must’ve caught on; they pointedly look the other way.

Viktor catches your quick scan of the room; flexes his fingers to draw your attention back. Whispers in a way that has always, always wrecked you, “Would they touch you the way I touch you? Fuck you the way I fuck you?”

Never.

You shake your stupid, besotted head.

“Mm, no, I didn’t think so,” he all but laughs, wicked thing. Not as soulless as he or anyone else wants to believe.

Perhaps a little heartless, though, the way he plays absently with your clit. Sweeps and rolls with his wet leather thumb until you’re trembling and your lungs are burning—suffocating on all those little noises held back. He has you clenching around him so quickly, clawing uselessly at the metal plates of his shoulder. And the closer you get, the less you care for subtly or dignity or proper conduct of any sort. You only want release. You’ll hide your face against his armored neck, gasping quietly as you can to hide what is obviously happening, if it means you can have it.

There’s just one little problem.

Right on the cusp, and you’re suddenly empty. Instead, his hand comes to rest heavy on your bare thigh, glove glistening. Your slick is like fine, gossamer webbing between his fingers. Only then do you realize the gravity of the situation—that he’s not finished, and you aren’t going to, because he grips you hard and murmurs:

“Only I get to see you come.”

[calciumdeficientt]

Ik you do oc hcs, canon hcs and now oc x canon hcs but I was wondering if U did oc x oc hcs?

If you do, can you do my girl Hattie and Max Whitlocke (@wolfxplush 's bully oc) we both ship them and i think they're so cute 😭🙏🏽

OHMYGAH IM SO EXCITED i love talking about other peoples ocs i feel like a kid smashing dolls together to make them kiss

HATTIE BROWN X MAX WHITLOCKE

These two are definitely that one couple everyone is surprised to find out are dating, not only are they from two entirely different worlds, they also bully each other within an inch of their lives. Outsiders could be forgiven for mistaking them as mortal enemies, their entire relationship in the public eye is based mostly on bullying the everloving shit out of each other. It tends to stick to just insults, but once did get mildly physical. Only mildly because Hattie was absolutely wiping the floor with Max and she knows he’s a sore loser.

Max still loves her, even when one of the things she does for fun is vandalise Harrington house with the other townies. Hattie still loves him, even though he drools all over her all the time on account of that stupid headgear. They’re both imperfect, that’s what makes their relationship so cool. They can work together to make each other better people or maybe… worse people depending on the day.

Hattie definitely falls over when she laughs and if Max doesn’t pick her back up within 30 seconds she definitely goes out of her way to ignore him for days on end as punishment. It’s a constant cycle of Max picking her up and Hattie falling back down. One must imagine Sisyphus picking up his cackling girlfriend off the ground.

They can’t have a proper wedding because of Max’s family, so if they do ever want to tie the knot they have to run off to one of those gimmicky little chapels in Vegas, you know the ones. They probably get married by an Elvis impersonator. It’s probably just them and maybe a handful of friends, they go in, get the rings and then go out to play mini golf or something.

Max actually has no game, so it all kind of fell on Hattie to rekindle their childhood romance. Since they stopped talking, Max kinda lost his damn mind, so Hattie has to be gentle with him at first. It’s akin to taming a wild raccoon, not usually done but with the right sort of handling he is easily domesticated… still rabid and feral but, calmer.

[russet-writing]

03 Lost

“See what happens” | Screwdriver | Club

Content: Profanity, Drinking (in a club/bar setting), Some violence, Threats, Whumpee kind of having a position of power, Whumper not respecting that at all lol

“They’re startin’ their shit again, Whumpee.”

The Scotch he had been drinking got caught, choking him for all of two seconds before he managed to swallow it down. Out of the corner of Whumpee’s eye, he could see his bartender. She was hovering next to him, looking a whole lot more uneasy than usual, just mindlessly twisting a rag into a martini glass– Nervous energy. His eyes flicked to hers for a brief second and he knew exactly what was wrong just by the look on her face. They came back. Of course they would come back. No measly little warning could keep the Harpoons out of his hair…

“What do you mean they’re starting their… I– Didn’t I tell you that next time they come in you were supposed to fucking–” He cuts himself off and pinches the bridge of his nose, nostrils flaring. Reel it in, Whumpee. A deep breath.

“Didn’t I tell you,” A low murmur this time, “that the next time they tried to come in, you were supposed to turn them away?” When he opens his eyes again, he allows them to drift past the bartender, over to the bar and the crowd that had accumulated there. Sure enough, in the sea of faces and emblazoned leather jackets, his gaze catches on one staring right back at him: Whumper. Whumper, with those same fiery eyes and that same shit eating grin that widened as he lifted a mocking glass to him and downed it. Last time the bastard was here, he had broken about six of those glasses, the shards of which had ended up half-lodged in some poor drunk asshole’s scalp. Whumpee’s eye twitches.

“You don’t think I tried that?” The Bartender hisses with exasperation, following his gaze to the leader of the gang who… was now waving her over for yet another drink. Pompous prick. She bristles and whips her head to look at Whumpee, all tucked up frozen in his armchair. She turns back to Whumper. Back to him. And then, finally, she makes up her mind. With what has to be the most gall he had ever seen her display, she slams the martini down hard enough to nearly crack it and steps towards him, brandishing the damp rag.

“You are the owner of this club, you hear me? Be a man, get off your ass, and go get those psychos off my bar!” The last two words had spit flying at his face. A beat passed as he stared up at her. The bartender’s eyes slowly widened, coming to the realization she had just shouted at her boss, regretting it, and hoping to God it wouldn’t get her fired… but then, Whumpee lowered his gaze and slowly rose to his feet. His jaw was clenched, determination knitted between his brows.

Wordlessly, he makes his way over to the bar.

“Hey, pal…” Whumper called out in that sing-songy voice (the kind that makes you want to beat the everloving daylights out of him.) Whumpee knew he had probably heard that whole interaction judging by the knowing look in his eyes and his lax, confident posture. Whumpee didn’t care, not anymore. He was tired of this. “Long time no see. Starting to think you’ve been holding out on m–”

“You need to leave.”

It came out a lot hoarser than he would have liked, but they seemed to hear him just fine. For a small moment, it felt like the air shifted. The idle chatter around them seemed to falter before, ever so slowly, every head turned to the two of them. Whumpee swallowed, gaze flickering briefly over the watching eyes. Whumper never looked away. Whumpee takes a deep breath and meets Whumper’s gaze head on. 

“You need to leave.” It came out firmer that time. More like how the club owner should sound. But all that determination and feigned confidence simply crumbled the moment Whumper rose from his seat, movements fluid and agile like something ascending, something not human– it was nothing like the sweating and scarred men around him. No, Whumper was something entirely different. Something otherworldly. All that previous arrogance was gone, replaced now with something… terrifying. Whumpee almost misses the arrogance. When he rose to his full height, he only had about two inches on Whumpee, but God it felt like he was towering over him. Whumpee barely managed not to cringe backwards when the man leaned in and whispered,

“Or… what?”

A small part of him wanted to give in and say ‘Or nothing! Hah, what a funny prank– I definitely got you. Drinks are on the house tonight, fellas!’ but he could still feel his bartender’s eyes on him… Damn it, he had a reputation to look after. He wasn’t going to let some rag tag nobodies tell him how to run his club.

“Or I’ll have you arrested, Whumper.” He shoots back. “I’ve asked you not to come back here and I’m allowed by law to refuse you service.” 

He takes a small, menacing step forward. “Go ahead, call them, Whumpee. See what happens.”

Whumpee can’t help but flinch slightly at that, but he steels his resolve and shoves a hand into his pocket, pulling out his phone. “Fine then, fuck you, I will! Then maybe finally they’ll get you off the streets, you absolute mutt–”

There was a sudden flash of movement that Whumpee’s mind didn’t quite catch up to in time. He dropped his phone. Then, the pain hit him all at once, hot and searing like a knife all along the bridge of his nose. He cries out and cups his hands over it, feeling the warm slick of blood streaming between them and down into his sleeves. Fuck! Shit, did he just punch my fucking– He jerks backwards as he notices Whumpers vague outline reaching towards him through the water in his eyes. He stumbles dizzily against the counter, rolling over slightly until he’s practically bent over it. 

Whumpee doesn’t really know why he started reaching for something. Maybe some small part of his mind knew if he didn’t defend himself there was a real good chance the man would just kill him right here, right now, in his own club. Either way, he starts grappling blindly on the other side of the counter.

Just as he feels Whumper’s hand fist into his hair, rearing his head backwards, Whumpee’s hand locks around a handle, smooth and rubbery against his sweaty palm. He somehow manages to twist his body around in time before the other man can slam his face into the countertop, ignoring the burning sensation in his scalp. Better than having his nose broken anymore; He can still feel the blood running down his face… and neck. He blinks tears from his eyes and with a final burst of energy, he thrusts whatever was in his hand out blindly. It doesn’t make contact. Instead, he feels Whumper’s other hand lock around his wrist. A screwdriver. It was just a fucking screwdriver. Before he can even try to squirm out of the grip, he’s already being thrown backwards once more until he’s arched over the countertop, feeling it bruising into the small of his back.

“Wait!” He gasps out, scrambling frantically as Whumper wrenches the handle from his grip. “Wait– I’m sorry! I–”

The other man simply slammed his head against the counter one, two, three times until he started seeing stars and couldn’t get in enough air to scream. Distantly, he wondered why nobody else was trying to help him but deep down he knew why. Nobody would be able to fight off Whumper if they tried. He manages to work his eyes open once more, trying to ignore the low throbbing in his nose and now the back of his skull but then… he sees Whumper looming over him, screwdriver in hand, poised overhead, ready to come crashing down and pierce right through his fucking eye socket. He’s suddenly breathless.

“No, no, no– Stop! Please don’t–” His voice cuts off with a frantic cry and he feels that woosh of air and a sharp sound that must’ve been his world crashing around him… but the pain never came. It wasn’t delayed like before. It wasn’t there at all. Whumpee’s eyes slowly cracked open, breaths coming much too fast, and he met Whumper’s stony visage… those dark, intense eyes. Whumpee’s eyes shift to the side to the screwdriver, now lodged into the intricately carved cedar countertops… right next to his head. He gulps and doesn’t say a word.

The club is entirely silent now. The next words are whispered even quieter, but they come out crystal clear.

“Call me a mutt again.”

Whumpee’s eyes stay locked on the screwdriver, thoughts spiraling, mental images of that lodged in his skull and blood and agony and— There’s another sharp tug of his hair and his eyes shoot to Whumper’s once more. He’s closer now. A mere breath away.

“I said… call me a mutt again, Whumpee.”

It was hard to shake his head with that hand still gripping him by the hair, but he did anyway, managing only a small whimper that sounded vaguely like ‘I’m sorry’. A few moments pass of this neverending standoff. And just when Whumpee was half convinced it would never break and that those eyes would eventually leave two burning holes in his head, Whumper tilts his head.

And he smiles.

And he murmurs, low and charismatic like it had been when he first walked in, “Well… I’m glad we got that settled then. I would hate to not be able to support my favorite club.” His fingers loosened and slid from the tangled hair, giving him a condescending pat. “And my favorite club owner… Right?” Again at a loss for words, Whumpee just nods. Finally, mercifully, Whumper recedes and lets Whumpee crumple bonelessly to the floor.

For the next two weeks, the Harpoons stopped by and visited every night. Whumpee never said a word about it. Not a single peep.

[xticklemeemox]

The Love You Want: III, Part Four

hehehe i hate the shopping trip section and the bit after that it does not seem well written to me i am going to lose my everloving mind =D

all aforementioned warnings apply, just in case <3

word count: uh 13,519?

Masterlist

Ao3

Previous Part

Next Part

Vessel waits with bated breath all morning, hugging his stuffie tightly to his chest as he stares, unceasingly, at his bedroom door. II and III had already been moving about for a couple hours now, their quiet voices and sleepy laughter telling Vessel of a comfortable night spent in III's room and a cozy morning. Vessel wishes he had joined.

His room is dark, the only light coming from under the door. Vessel is alone, as he wanted, and he hates it. He buries his face in his stuffie, snuggling into his Alpha Wolf hoodie, and tries to ignore the stinging in his hips, and the tears threatening to slip onto his cheeks. He lays there for who knows how long, waiting for the floor to open up and swallow him and his bed whole.

Someone knocks on the door. Its II, asking for Vessel to come down to the living room. He says something about wanting to start that talk now, and maybe something else but Vessel can't hear past the sudden ringing in his ears.

This is it. They're going to be mad at him. They're going to be mad he put them to sleep without asking, they're going to hate him. They're going to hate him. Vessel doesn't want to do this, he didn't want them to know about any of this. Vessel wanted to keep all of this to himself so II and III could continue living happily, without any knowledge of what Vessel has done.

Vessel forces himself to stand up when he hears II's retreating footsteps after a couple minutes of Vessel not answering. When he opens his door, Vessel makes sure his hood is up and his mask securely buckled. III is making their way up the stairs when Vessel starts to head down, and their smile is as soft as the blonde curls on their head when they see him. "I made you a coffee! Its on the table downstairs, in the living room, if you're ready to talk now."

Vessel isn't ready, but he takes III's outstretched hand anyway, hunching into himself to hide as much as possible. Let's III lead him down the stairs, focuses on them rubbing their thumb over Vessel's knuckles, focuses on not launching himself off the staircase to his hopeful death and asking Sleep to let him truly die.

II is bouncing his leg, reading a book while sitting on their couch when Vessel and III enter the living room. His eyes do not read the words on the page, staring blankly and worrying his lip, lost in thought. When III calls his name, II looks up, almost surprised by their presences, though III is never exactly quiet when they enter a room.

"Three, Ves! Good, you're here. Sit, please, we're just going to talk. We got you some coffee Ves, hopefully its how you like it. Three wanted to put more sugar but I like to imagine I know your limits, and their idea of sweet enough is far, far past it."

Vessel sits on the edge of his seat and readies himself to bolt if he needs to. He makes sure to keep space between all three of them for when they inevitably don't want to be near him anymore.

Even as he does so, keeping distance, III scoots closer and II completely gets up, moving to sit next to Vessel on his other side, effectively sandwiching him between them while placing a large, fluffy blanket over his shoulders. It should make him nervous, to be caged in like that and unable to escape like he initially wanted, but their knees are warm where they brush against his own. The length of III's thigh is pressed against Vessel's and he tries to focus on that warmth to ground him to this moment when all Vessel wants is to be anywhere but here.

Vessel avoids their searching gazes but smiles gratefully at II, wrapping the blanket around himself as further protection, and everyone waits for another of them to speak. Silence ensues for what feels like hours until II breaks it, also wanting to get this over with if only to get that terrified slip of emotion Vessel is allowing through the bond to go away.

"Tell us about this ability Sleep mentioned, the one that isn't yours. I just want to understand, Vessel, okay? I'm not mad, I'm frustrated you seem to keep hurting yourself in more ways than one, but I'm not mad. I'm concerned."

Vessel opens his mouth, trying to just get on with it, but his voice won't come out again. No matter how hard he tries. No. No, no, no, not again. Please. He'd finally moved past this, he'd- They looked so pleased to hear him and he's already fucking up.

III leans into Vessel's side, reaching under the blanket and gripping a portion of Vessel's hoodie, unsure what to do. II is saying something to him, holding his hand, but Vessel can't hear him. He's still trying to force words out, mouth opening and closing with no noise coming out. Vessel wants to cry, to sob, to tell them everything and nothing. He wants to be held.

II takes Vessel's hand and puts it over his chest, in the middle where Vessel can feel his heartbeat and the deliberate rise and fall of his breathing in slow, deep breaths.

Vessel tries to copy it. He really does, but it's hard when his head is swimming and he's suffocating in his own distress, the anxiety eating at his nerves as he shakes and shakes. Why can't he stop shaking?

II and III talk in hushed voices over him as Vessel hunches over further, torso almost meeting his knees, clenching his eyes shut and trying to focus on breathing at the same pace II is. A broken sob forces its way past his lips, coming out as more of a low keen that he muffles into the material of his stuffie that has managed to stay in his lap. He hates that he's staining it with his tears. He ruins everything he touches.

It takes what feels like hours to get his breathing under control, but it must have only been minutes. He is still trembling when his ears stop ringing. He wants to hide, he wants to escape into the forest and not return for a few days. Maybe not return at all. He isn't ready for this.

"Can we hug you? Please, you look like you need one." III begs, looking to II for help, but he only shakes his head sadly, already knowing what Vessel's answer will be.

Yes. Yes, please. Vessel wants a hug so badly. Please. Please.

"No." Vessel whispers, voice cracking as he refuses. "But, lean into me. Just- Don't wrap your arms around me. Please." Vessel compromises, desperate.

III leans into Vessel immediately, the full length of his torso pressing into Vessel's side as III puts the other hand under the blanket to wrap both arms around Vessel's own arm in as much of a hug as Vessel will allow. II scoots impossibly closer, using both hands to hold one of Vessel's own, rubbing soothing circles into his palm, or a thumb over his knuckles.

Vessel can breathe again. Letting his hand go limp in II's hold, he leans into III's side heavily as he tries to calm down. Vessel steels his nerves and just lets the words spill out of his mouth before his throat is wrapped with thorns again, hiding his masked face in his hands.

"I can- Make you sleep. That's all it is. I couldn't stand to see you suffer like I... I didn't want you to be awake and in pain the entirety of your transformation, so I experimented with my abilities as a vessel of Sleep and well, it got easier after the first time. You kept waking up though, and you were in so much pain... I had to keep putting you under. When you woke up and weren't in pain, I knew your transformation was over. I just... repeated the process with III."

"Sleep said this power was dangerous for you...?" II knows he won't like the answer.

"It makes me sick. It- I change. Two new sets of eyes, the split tongue. My blood becoming more like Sleep's. It seems I gain more of their features the more I use the ability."

"You're not using that ability again." II demands, not leaving any room for argument.

"What? But-"

"Vessel, you're not making yourself sick for us. Do you think I enjoyed your suffering as you puked up that weird black shit, or how you couldn't even sleep any of that sickness off? Because I didn't. I didn't enjoy a single fucking second of it. I hated it. Hated that I couldn't help you, that I couldn't take your pain away." II states, eyes like blue fire.

"We understand where you're coming from. You wanted to help us, but you never should've done it at the cost of yourself." III cuts in, nervously glancing between Vessel and II, pressing more of their body into Vessel's.

"Neither of you deserved to hurt, I- I was trying to help..." Vessel says weakly.

"I know you were, Ves, but you're not doing that to yourself again. You don't understand that we don't want you hurting either. You don't need to kill yourself to make sure we don't feel any pain." Vessel flinches into III as though struck and II wonders, fleetingly, why he felt as though he'd come upon something he shouldn't have.

"Vessel... do you think you deserved it? Your pain?" III asks, voice low and carefully neutral to hide the concern, thinking back to Vessel saying that they didn't deserve to hurt.

It wouldn't be much of a stretch, would it? To think that Vessel believes himself to deserve the pain the transformation brought, when the man actively self-harms.

Vessel will not look at them, staring resolutely at the ground. He does not address them directly, merely speaking out into the room, knowing they will listen.

"I- I don't... know. I- It made sense. For me to hurt. It still does. It's all I know. I felt... useful, when I was able to help Two that first time. Like I was finally doing something right. By the time Three came around, I- Well, I already knew the consequences and welcomed them if it meant I could spare you both the pain. The eyes aren't so bad, and I'm already getting used to the tongue."

"You don't deserve it. You have never and will never deserve any of the pain you put yourself through, or that anyone else has put you through." II despairs, taking a deep, unsteady breath to try and abate the tears he wants to shed.

Vessel remains silent, knowing he doesn't agree. II and III are the only ones who have ever thought that.

"You're not using the ability again. I don't care what you say, you're hurting yourself every time. I- Fuck, Ves, I already hate your self-harming, I don't want to see you continue hurting yourself this way too." II says, shoulders hunching with the stress of the conversation.

"I don't use it unless I need to, and I haven't needed to since your transformations ended." Vessel agrees easily enough, voice as small as he feels.

He doesn't understand why they care so much. He's not sure he ever will.

"Why won't Sleep let any of us rest during our transformations? I- I don't understand why He would decline if you asked Him to let us sleep."

"I didn't ask." Vessel murmurs quietly. "The- the way He said I handled mine, I didn't think there would be a point. He wouldn't have agreed. He said I handled mine beautifully, but- It hurt. It was... Agony, for weeks and I could feel everything- Everything changing in my body, the- the bugs-" Vessel cuts himself off, throat closing in at the memory.

He pushes his hands into all of his eyes where the skin meets the softer flesh of his closed eyelids. He can still feel the flies crawling over his burning eyes- the roaches over his hands and the way they came close to crawling in his ears or his mouth-

Vessel wants to throw up, the taste of that black sludge foul on his tongue. He curls in on himself, struggling to breathe. Again.

II and III share another concerned glance, "Bugs?" II whispers, mortified.

"Manor wasn't clean. Full of bugs. Crawled all over me. Over my eyes, across my hands. Felt all of it." Taking a deep breath to try and quell the nausea, Vessel manages to answer in short sentences.

"You... Where did you lay, Ves?" III is terrified of the answer.

"Floor. Barely made it through the front door. Hurt the whole walk here. I- fell a lot too. Over roots and just, the ground. Couldn't see anything, it was too dark. Didn't know where I was going." Vessel grunts, trying to will away the tremble in his frame.

He has said far more than he ever wanted to, but they are asking, and Vessel cannot refuse them most things. Not when their bodies are warm against his, their heat sinking into his bones and chasing away the constant chill. The blanket they'd wrapped around his shoulders helps keep him warm, too, but Vessel wouldn't mind being able to touch them without the barrier of it and his clothes. It is not something he can grant himself.

One proper hug from II and Vessel craves another, and another, and another. He wants their gentle touch on his skin all the time, in any way they'll give it. He wants to feel wrapped up and safe in III's encompassing hold, he wants to wrap II in his own arms, to hold him to Vessel's chest and rest his chin on the fluffy mess of II's hair. He wants their touch. He wants. He aches. He desires. Anything they will give him.

If their gentle touch ever turns painful, Vessel knows he wouldn't mind. It would simply be time for the abnormalities of his relationships with them to end and return to the familiar.

"... the fucking floor? You... you didn't have time to, to even get into the house properly?" III can't stop himself from crying out, just utterly horrified.

"No, my transformation was already beginning to start when I woke up in the forest. I- There wasn't any time." Vessel explains, closing his eyes and pulling II's hand closer, beginning to play with his fingers.

"Why would Sleep do that? He gave me time to get settled in..." II says, eyes wide with confusion.

"I asked Him to give you that time. I couldn't go into the stores and get you what I knew you needed. I was too much of a coward. My anxiety wouldn't let me. I- It was weak of me, I know."

"No, no, Ves, it worked out better that way. I wouldn't have expected you to be able to do all of that on your own... Its alright."

II is trying his damn hardest not to let his fury get the better of him.

He wants to fist fight his God. For what they have done and what they've failed to do. If Sleep could put off II's transformation when Vessel asked it of Him, there was no reason for Vessel to have needlessly suffered.

"It hurt." Vessel forces out, eyes opening and listless behind his mask, "It was like every atom was lit on fire after being put through a shredder. It hurt. For weeks. I- I laid there for weeks. It hurt. I couldn't sleep. Couldn't escape. Couldn't die either. I wanted to."

III tries to stifle their sudden sob, but ultimately they fail.

"It hurt." Vessel repeats, "It hurt and I was alone."

"You're not alone now." II is quick to assure, "You made sure we weren't alone, its our turn to return the favor."

III is nodding, trying to speak past their hiccupping sobs, but they can't. Not when they're imagining what Vessel must have gone through. Those few moments III was awake during his transformation was an agony they knew could never be replicated, would never be able to properly describe. To think that Vessel was forced to be awake for weeks, to experience something like that without any reprieve... And still Vessel thinks he deserved it.

III wants to hold Vessel tightly and never let go, wants to tell him that they love him, that he didn't deserve any of what has happened to him. Wants to kiss away all his tears, to wrap him in his arms and never let him go.

How could Sleep have just- let Vessel go through that? III doesn't understand. They were all personally chosen by a God, and yet that God shows little care when it comes to the safety of His vessels outside of having money and a home. III knows II said that Sleep does not understand human pain, does not feel it, but does that make any of this okay?

III's not sure if it does, when he sees the furious tears in II's eyes as they both hold Vessel as close as he'll allow, shuddering breaths and small hiccups still escaping him as he stares blankly ahead.

::

Once Vessel calms enough, he disappears to his room for the rest of the day, asking for space and leaving his coffee untouched. Much of that time is spent listening to II and III move about the house and contemplating whether or not he wants to kill himself, adding random lines into his skin when the temptation to simply end it draws too close to the surface. By the time Vessel has made a decision, hours after starting and stopping his current book, attempting to write new lyrics, and pacing his room repeatedly, it is dark outside. His arms ache something fierce, bandages stark white against the darkness of his skin.

Dinner has long since passed, Vessel guiltily ignoring III's knock on his door, asking him if he was coming down to eat or just to hang out. Guilt ate away at him, and so Vessel cut into his arms again to relieve it. The pain helped, somewhat, but Vessel only felt more guilty than before, afterwards.

Vessel stills when another knock sounds, II this time, telling Vessel goodnight and that the two of them were going to be in II's room that night if Vessel wants to join.

II audibly sighs when Vessel doesn't answer, leaning his head against Vessel's door for a moment before walking away. III, staring silently from beside him, follows and intertwines their hands, eager expression crumbling.

Vessel's eyes well with tears, and he wants to join them so badly. He should've agreed yesterday, too, but Vessel was afraid. Shoving on his Alpha Wolf hoodie and grabbing his thickest blanket, Vessel practically runs to his door in his haste.

"Wait!" Vessel exclaims, opening his door and stepping out, holding his plushie close to his chest.

II and III stop at II's door immediately, turning around with such hopeful expressions that Vessel knows it must match his own hope exactly, even without the bond confirming it.

"Are you sure it's okay?" Vessel asks, back to being quiet as a mouse, and II and III share wide grins.

"Of course. You don't even need to ask if you want to sleep with us. II and I will always welcome you." III holds his arm out, making grabby fingers at Vessel who reaches back with only a little hesitation, crossing the distance between them in a few purposeful strides.

III pulls him into II's room, a beaming smile lighting up the dim room. II follows behind them, leaving the door cracked for Elvira in case she wants to come visit.

II goes around moving pillows while III bounds off to grab more blankets. Vessel sits gingerly at the edge of II's bed, trying to gather up his courage.

He is fiddling with the edge of a bandage as II and III finish up, beginning to get comfortable on the bed. "I-. Uh, shit. Shit." Vessel starts, stopping immediately as his anxiety strangles him.

He doesn't want to ruin their happy expressions. He knows what he says next is going to kill the peaceful atmosphere.

"Go on, Ves, its okay." III encourages, and II nods in agreement, eyes soft and questioning.

"I- cut again. Can-" Vessel clears his throat nervously, letting go of the fraying bandage and digging his nails into his wrist, the sting helps, "Can you hold me?"

II cannot keep the sadness from his eyes or his bond, but he smiles softly regardless, "Of course. How about you get comfortable with Three while I get the med kit. You know I prefer making sure you take care of your cuts."

Vessel is... relieved neither of them are angry with him.

Vessel nods, climbing further into bed and into III's awaiting, outstretched arms. III brings one hand up to run through Vessel's hair, carefully avoiding pulling any strands stuck under the mask strap, the other splaying against Vessel's waist where he has carefully draped himself over III's chest, half on his lap. Vessel's blanket and hoodie acts as a barrier between their chests, and Vessel begs Sleep to keep III unaware of Vessel's lack of heartbeat.

II smiles, single dimple on display as Vessel settles in close, subconsciously snuggling further into III's warmth. He's off to get the nearest med kit and returning in record time, taking only a second to watch III whisper soft nothings into Vessel's hair, nuzzling into the soft strands as he holds Vessel close.

Vessel opens his eyes from where they had fallen closed in his contentment, bond open enough for them to feel it. Anxiety creeps in as II asks where the wounds are. Leaving his hoodie on, Vessel maneuvers himself so he can comfortably stretch his arms out, shoving up both sleeves past his elbow. His left arm was clearly bandaged better than the right, the material loose and sliding down his arm.

"Proud of you for taking care of them." II says, leaning forward with his weight on one hand to kiss the forehead of Vessel's mask.

A tiny, unsure smile pulls at Vessel's lips, ducking his head shyly, but II does not fail to notice that Vessel doesn't refute his words.

III looks stricken as II begins unwrapping the bandages on Vessel's left arm. Vessel had at least cleaned the blood off of them, but his skill in wrapping them is lacking. II knows its because Vessel has never bothered to take care of himself Before, and fuck, does that break II's heart into pieces.

Vessel winces when II begins disinfecting the cuts, surprising II and III when he buries his masked face into the space between III's shoulder and neck. Its uncomfortable, the mask digging in to their jaw and collarbone and wherever else it touches, but III would rather cut off their own leg than ask Vessel to change positions.

Slathering antibiotic ointment over the wounds marring his forearm, a bit below the elbow, with smaller little slices heading down towards his wrist, II begins rewrapping the arm with a fresh strip of bandage. The next arm is easier, but the cuts are more sloppy, some digging deeper, and its clear by the wounds that Vessel was more distressed when he dug a blade into that arm.

That one is nearly finished being bandaged up when II chooses to speak, "Thank you for telling us, Ves."

Vessel opens his eyes, different sets watching the movement of II's hands and his face. He simply stares for a moment, while II continues working and III's hand continues playing with his hair, "Kept thinking you would leave me. Kept thinking you would hate me. Knew you would, after you found out what I did. But... You stayed. Both of you stayed. You- Don't hate me."

II and III share a glance that Vessel doesn't miss as II says, "I don't hate you, Vessel. What I feel for you is the furthest thing from hate."

"I don't hate you either. Could never hate you."

Vessel wets his lower lip nervously, a fang peeking through, "Okay... Thank you."

Vessel wants to say more, he wants to spill his guts all over the floor, let them rifle through his insides, examine every inch of his viscera and bones, and their marrow, until they understand him so completely that he never has to speak of his feelings ever again.

Vessel supposes that is what the bond is for. That gift from his God was intended to help him connect, and he has refused it to some extent the entire time he has had it.

II yawns behind a raised hand, Vessel tracking the movement carefully. "You both should rest." Vessel says, and neither one of them disagree.

III pulls away long enough to let all of them under the covers. Vessel has been maneuvered so III is in the middle, without much say in the matter. He lets them do as they please, keeping his blanket wrapped around his shoulders and bunched around his neck. II asks if Vessel will get too warm like that, under both the blanket and the sheets but Vessel merely shakes his head. Temperature hasn't affected him like it used to when his heart still beat in his chest. The others have said he is cold to the touch, but he doesn't feel it.

Everyone gets comfortable, Vessel allowing III to wrap their arms around him. III pulls Vessel close, then shoves themself back so they're up against II, since the bed is a bit small for three grown men.

Goodnights are shared without much preamble, and Vessel knows its because the earlier conversation did not exhaust only him. He's felt it in the back of their bonds all day, guilty for that too.

Vessel sits and listens for a while, as the others settle down to sleep. II falls asleep first and Vessel is endlessly amused by the others ability to fall asleep quickly, always appearing so tired despite Vessel being the one who doesn't sleep. III takes longer to nod off, needing to adjust positions a few times, or fluff up their pillow. Its cute, as Vessel finds III is prone to being.

Vessel realizes he didn't bring anything to occupy his mind during the long hours of the night.

"Are you leaving?" III asks sadly, voice distorted by a yawn.

Vessel pauses from where he was moving off the bed, "No. I'm getting my notebook from my room. I'll... be back."

III nods, brushing a hand over Vessel's bicep, turning over to snuggle into II's back. "Go, so you can come back sooner." They murmur, "Miss you already."

Vessel's face warms, a smile pulling involuntarily at his lips. III says he'll miss him, even though Vessel is only going to his room and back. The thought makes Vessel giddy, and for once there is no voice in the back of his mind telling him that III is lying, or delusional.

"Be back soon." Vessel says, knowing III probably didn't hear over II letting out a loud snore right then, the others bond already fuzzing back up with sleep.

Vessel huffs out a laugh, smile remaining. They're both adorable. He makes it to his room and back in record time, sliding back under the mass of blankets, pressing the length of his side against III's back, who hums at the contact but otherwise remains asleep.

It's perhaps an hour or two later, Vessel silently scribbling potential lyrics in his notebook with the dim light of the bedside lamp (though it isn't needed), when III first shows signs something is wrong, when Vessel��feels that something is wrong.

There is a furrow in III's brow when Vessel places a careful claw over his temple to coax out the nightmare after he sets down his notebook and pencil. Without a thought, he swallows it whole, loving the taste and yet afraid of what he will see this time.

It truly is a nightmare.

He was sprawled out on the ground, jaw aching fiercely. There was a weight on their hand, harsh pressure being applied with a foot. Trees surrounded him but in his peripherals, light from a building blinked on and off haphazardly.

"Fucking shithead! Should've stayed the fuck away from me." Someone spits on him.

It splatters against their cheek, dribbling down and off his chin, and he only barely manages to stop from cringing in disgust, "I was only being nice-"

A foot slams right into his ribs, once, twice. A groan of pain is torn from their throat with the action, a whimper as something cracks.

"Shut the fuck up. God, running your mouth even now. No wonder you couldn't keep a fucking job." With every sentence, another kick brings new agony to his ribs.

He moans as another kick glances over their jaw, stars bursting behind their eyes when their hair is grabbed in a tight fist, a knee meeting their nose and spewing blood all over the blue jeans of his assailant. He grins anyway, all bloody teeth and confidence, "Momma never taught you how to take a compliment? I didn't have a mother and I can handle someone telling me I'm pretty with proper decorum. A thank you usually suffices."

The grin is wiped off their face as a fist slams against their cheek, cracking the bone beneath his eye with a blinding pain that stuns them. Pain explodes in multiple spots on their body as they struggle against the people holding him. They force him to the ground roughly, blow after blow after blow landing on his ribs, his stomach, his head. He aches everywhere, barely conscious, and still they hold him down. Still he struggles.

There's no fucking way they're going to kill them without a fight-

Vessel gasps, still feeling rough hands around his arms, holding him down, he can't breathe- there's a hand wrapped around his throat- no- no that's not what happened, that was-

Vessel's bond slams shut as he tumbles out of bed, legs caught in the blankets. The harsh movement of the bed wakes II and III, but by that time. Vessel sees the tears in III's eyes, a single one slipping down his cheek and he's filled with unadulterated rage at the sight.

He can still feel a hand around his throat. He knows that wasn't from III's nightmare, III's death.

"What happened, Ves, are you okay?" II asks, holding on to III in a tight back hug.

"Nothing, I'm fine. I just fell out of bed. Got caught up in the blankets." Vessel reassures through gritted teeth, trying to keep his anger and terror, his confusion and understanding, out of the bond.

He does it with ease, projecting that calm sea he can picture so clearly in his mind. Even if his bond is shut, Vessel would prefer taking no chances of them discovering his anger.

"Okay, that's okay. Do you need help getting-" II starts, III cutting him off.

"Don't shut us out entirely. Please. Keep the bond open. I- I want to feel that you're here." III asks, brokenly, desperation and fear leaking from every pore.

Vessel is struck with the sensation of arms holding him down again and feels terrible. III has just woken from a nightmare and they're focusing on him- Vessel hates it. Wants to wrap III up in his arms and never let them go so they'll be safe-

II follows III's words up, like a knife to the chest, "I know I said you can shut yourself away whenever you want but it's like- like you're dead even if we know you're right here."

The fury simmers down in an instant, being put on the back burner in favor of processing what they're telling him.

Like... he's dead? It feels like he's dead? Vessel doesn't understand. Do... do they know? Do they know what he does? Vessel is quickly becoming overwhelmed by the events that keep occurring. His brain can't keep up, tired as he is and always so stressed.

"I'm sorry." Vessel apologizes, not sure what else to say, opening up his bond again, his regret seeping into II and III's side of the bond.

"Have you felt it?" III asks, tears in his wide, shining eyes, "What its like for the bond to be completely shut off?"

Vessel shakes his head no, and the next moment there is a void swallowing him whole. Where III's presence had been shining brightly, full of apprehension and regret and resolve, there is nothing. It's as though the other man doesn't exist, like his body isn't right here with Vessel's. Its a gaping void, like Vessel was missing a limb, a wound ripped right through him that will never heal. He struggles to breath through the aching in his chest, in his lungs, and the house shudders violently, creaking and moaning as the vines writhe along the walls agitatedly.

There is this pain in his chest. His heart which he knows does not rest behind his ribs, he knows it doesn't, is being squeezed with a tight fist. He can't breathe- he can't- why does it hurt so bad-

Vessel gasps, leaning forward to pull III to him, uncaring for that one moment if he can feel his lack of heartbeat through his clothes. Tears spill down his cheeks, lips parted around a desperate apology. There is relief buried deep in his chest, where his heart used to lay. They don't know.

"I'll try not to do it again. I promise, I swear I'll try, just, come back. Come back."

Vessel doesn't even take a moment to really think about what he's promising. What it means for his already unstable mental health. He is promising not to rest, promising to stay alive in this body he hates with a mind that loathes him. He knows there will be times he cannot keep that promise, times where he will need to kill himself to escape from his own body for just a little while.

The image of the bond in his head distorts, becoming less like doors in a hallway, more a tether connecting their souls to one another. Sleep did not give this to them just for Vessel to hide himself away whenever he wants, he realizes. He should've realized ages ago, but Vessel is always struck by how different II and III are to anyone else he has ever known. If... If Vessel wasn't so stuck in his past, maybe he would've been open with them sooner.

"I'm sorry to do that to you so suddenly. I- I should've warned you." III murmurs into Vessel's ear, breath warm as the bond blinks back into focus.

Vessel could sob with the sudden relief that rushes through him. The house settles, no creaking to be heard. The vines calm, and Vessel misses the way II scrutinizes them closely.

II leans on III, wrapping his arms around both of them, hands fisted tightly in their clothing, desperate for their touch after both of them disappeared from him.

"All those times I shut you out, Two... you never said anything all this time." Vessel cries into III's shoulder, reaching out desperately to hold II as well.

"I thought it- I didn't know it felt like anything. I thought I was- I didn't- You were dead, Three, your- Even though you're right in front of me, it was like you had died. Like not even your soul was left. Why didn't you tell me, Two? I would never have even- I'm... I'm so sorry. I'm sorry." Vessel can barely speak through the sobs tearing through him, harsh, wheezing breaths silenced to the best of his ability.

They're caught in his chest, suffocating him with their weight, but still, there is so little noise and it's unsettling. Vessel learned to cry like this, to sob with nary a sound, and its heartbreaking.

Vessel didn't understand what it meant to have his body and soul intertwined with another and then for them to disappear- it was worse than losing a limb. It was like some vital piece of himself that was there only a second before had just vanished, as if it never existed in the first place.

If II and III ever decided to leave Vessel, to tear the bond from their own souls with their God's help, it wouldn't have mattered if Vessel loved them or not, it wouldn't save him, his own soul would be shattered beyond repair and not even death would be a reprieve from the pain.

"Forgive me, please. Please, please, forgive me. I'm sorry. Don't leave. Don't leave." Vessel begs, clutching tightly to the material of III's shirt.

III holds him tighter, pulling Vessel closer even as they try to keep their own tears at bay.

"Ves, Ves, it's okay, just- try not to do it again and all is forgiven. Please, I'm not going anywhere, don't cry-" II regrets his wording immediately when Vessel struggles to pull away, all noise ceasing as though a switch had been flipped.

Vessel's breath hitches with another sob, but there is no noise to accompany it. Where before, there has been small little whimpers that he couldn't hold back, there is now literally no noise at all. Its unsettling, devastating. Tears still drip from under his mask, golden droplets staining everything they touch. His mouth is firmly shut, lips pinched tightly to hold in his whimpers.

"No, no, I- Fuck, I didn't mean it that way sweetheart, I swear. You- You don't have to be quiet around us." II begs, letting some of his own tears finally spill over.

"Two is right, Sugar. You never tell me to be quiet and I know for a fact I can get too loud." III adds, before asking, "Can I take your mask off? It can't be comfortable."

Vessel hesitates, slowly letting himself lean back into them to regain his earlier position. Vessel gives a small nod and III begins unbuckling the mask, wiping his own tears on his sleeve first.

When the mask is fully off and laid to the side, Vessel tries to get ahold of himself, wiping at his continuous tears with a sleeve that quickly becomes stained with gold. II and III speak to him gently, never asking him to be quiet or to stop crying, only ever using soft, comforting platitudes. They never grip his jaw to force it shut, to stop the noises Vessel has long since learned to quell. They never tell him to be quiet, to stop crying.

Gentle words and gentler hands coax Vessel from his tears into some semblance of calm as gold slips down his cheeks. II wipes them away as III braids small sections of Vessel's hair, gold accumulating on his hands and clothes.

Vessel whispers, in a voice hoarse with emotion, as III runs a hand through the mess to try and fix some of Vessel's unruly strands so they could continue braiding, "Not too loud. Like you as you are."

III smiles, a small thing that's brighter than any grin could ever be, kissing above Vessel's brow gently.

"Why were you crying, honey? I can still feel something off in our bond." II directs his next question at III, who is still wiping stray tears every now and then.

"Oh. Uh, bad dream. It's not anything to worry about." Vessel knows III is lying, can tell from the aversion of their gaze

Vessel thinks II can tell, too.

"Okay, if you want to talk about it, I'm here. I'm sure Ves wouldn't mind either."

Vessel is nodding in agreement, watching in some half-shocked, half-awed tidal wave of emotion as II pulls III's face to him gently, kissing his cheekbone, their brow, the tip of their nose. III's face is red but their smile is beaming when II pulls away, only leftover tears gleaming with hints of gold drying on their face.

II takes Vessel's face in one hand next, cupping the side of his head, avoiding Vessel's jaw as best as he can with his thumb by his ear and the rest of his fingers weaving through the mess of Vessel's hair. With that thumb, he carefully wipes some tears away, streaking gold across Vessel's cheekbone.

Without preamble, II leans forward to kiss Vessel's cheek. Then his forehead. The other side of his face, over the lid of his middle pair of eyes. With each careful press of II's lips on Vessel's skin, he grows warmer and warmer, body buzzing with electricity as his face flames, pointed ears going red at the tips.

"Two?" Vessel's voice is soft, eyes wide and not so sad anymore, tears slowing to a steady stop.

Vessel is always so stunned by such casual displays of affection. II and III are always so soft with each other, with Vessel himself. Vessel... never quite knows what to do with that fact. Because it is a fact. They are more gentle and kind than anyone Vessel has ever met. He thanks Sleep at the altar every chance he gets.

II accomplished what he set out to do, shaking his head with a quirk of his lips into a smile. II could get lost in the rubies of Vessel's irises, burning in the midst of the darkness of his sclera.

"You're so pretty. Both of you, so pretty."

III giggles, the sound a little unexpected and it causes Vessel to giggle too, something no one is sure they've heard from him before. Vessel's blush is contagious, spreading to II and III's cheeks like wildfire.

"You're pretty too, Doll." III says with a cheeky little grin that begs for II to challenge the nickname.

"Why Doll?" II pouts, squinting his eyes dangerously.

"Short." III states, before turning their grin towards Vessel. "Don't you agree, Sugar?"

Vessel's eyes are still wide, cheeks and ears still flushed but he nods anyways, adding quietly, "Big, pretty blue eyes, too."

II gasps and places a splayed hand over his heart, scandalized, keeping his tone exaggeratedly playful, "Why, I never. First, Sleep comments on my height, and then you two, the next day no less. I can't believe you both. I ought to take you off at your kneecaps, Three, and see what you say about my height then!"

Vessel tenses, looking between the two of them like he's not sure if they're actually going to fight or not. He would rather not be around if that is to happen. Vessel knows the yelling would make him catatonic with the memories.

"I'd like to see you try, Doll." III sticks his tongue out, laughing as II lets out a put-upon sigh.

There is a moment of silence where they all glance between each other. III's grin grows even bigger, and II's eyes narrow to slits before a smirk slips onto his face.

"Oh no." III mutters, beginning to lean back as though it will save them from what is to come.

Without another word, II launches himself at III, aiming for their sides to tickle them into submission. Laughter erupts immediately as Vessel stares with wide eyes, blinking disbelievingly at the proceedings.

He was- So sad, mere moments ago but with such ease he didn't even notice, II and III have lifted his spirits.

Vessel watches, a smile slowly pulling at his lips, as III makes their escape, managing to get away from II long enough to get off the bed. They're still laughing as they make it about halfway to the door before II launches himself off the bed after them, wrapping an arm around their waist and picking him up in one move, swinging III back around and up into a bridal carry.

"Thought you'd gotten away?" II asks, pretty blue eyes innocently staring at III, their noses close enough to touch if only they would lean in a millimeter closer.

II admits he is sorely tempted to kiss them, seeing that same temptation mirrored in III's eyes. They both refrain, glancing at Vessel, who is still watching them both, smiling gently. Now isn't the time.

"Nah, I got exactly what I wanted, Doll." III reaches up and pats II's cheek, a rogue finger tracing the curve of his smile.

"Now put me down. I'm insecure about being so close to the ground." III jokes and II laughs as he places III back on the bed.

Vessel could not force the smile off his face if his life depended on it as III suggests II start his book at the beginning, wanting him to read it aloud so Vessel will get the full story. Vessel starts to protest, not wanting to bother with something so trivial, but III is having none of it, already gently coaxing Vessel to lay on them as he leans back on a mound of pillows. II comes back from grabbing the book they were reading, a different genre than he usually reads that seemed interesting. Pulling the bookmark out as II gets comfortable on Vessel's other side, where he has let III maneuver him into laying down between them, II waits for both Vessel and III's go ahead to start reading.

Vessel's head is leant against III's shoulder, closely squished between them and II without even a hairs width between all three of them, a blanket spread out over their waists and legs.

Vessel is intrigued as II starts, tone calm but not emotionless as he reads the first page. The next chapter is read by III, who tries to give the characters their own voices and keep things lively while also keeping the tone of the book. The two keep switching off who reads with each chapter, and at some point during the night, II had fallen asleep during III's turn.

Vessel offers to read instead, and III lights up at the prospect, kissing the side of Vessel's head without a thought and settling in to listen with happy, but tired eyes. Vessel stumbles over the first few words, flustered beyond belief, but does not shy away from III's tender gaze. Its not long before III falls asleep too, but Vessel continues reading aloud quietly. He remains vigilant for more nightmares the entire night, warm between the two people he cares for most in the world.

Elvira pushes open the door around daybreak where it had been left cracked, meowing as she hops up on the bed to settle on Vessel's lap. Vessel pets her lovingly as she purrs, III's breath ghosting against his ear as II snores at Vessel's shoulder.

Vessel feels as though a weight has been lifted off his chest, closing his eyes to rest his mind. He lets his bond open, entirely, without holding anything back for what must be the first time.

::

Over breakfast the next morning, while II attempts to teach Vessel how to cook pancakes after III requested them, III speaks up about going into town. Kicking their feet so that they knock softly on the cupboard, III sits perched on the counter whisking eggs, which Vessel had wrinkled his nose up at, not liking the taste of eggs by themself.

"Hey, can we go into town today? I would really like more clothes, and that gaming console I mentioned to II."

"Gaming console?" Vessel asks, curious, as he carefully flips over a too-done pancake.

He smiles sheepishly when II praises him over it, while III begins to explain how they wanted to get more electronics since most of their entertainment is in book form.

Vessel nods along, asking what sorts of games III enjoys. "Story-driven games mainly! Though I do- did play first-person shooters sometimes."

Vessel hums, interested, as he and II listen to III explain about the different game genres they've tried and which ones they didn't care for.

"We can go into town after breakfast, if that's alright with you?" II questions and III nods along easily, not caring what time of day they go.

"Sure! Are you going Ves?"

Vessel freezes, watching a pancake cook far longer than it should, browning visibly at the bottom edges.

Vessel wants to go with them, just to be near, but he would need to go into stores, with other people, in public. At the mere thought, his anxiety creeps at the edges of his mind, threatening to swarm him.

"You did well in the furniture store that first day I arrived, despite your panic attack. You know I don't mind holding your hand and doing all the talking, Ves." II attempts to convince him, and Vessel admits that he has a point.

Vessel hates that they're coddling him. That he needs physical touch to go into a store. Its pathetic. He's pathetic.

Vessel wants to go with them. He really does. He doesn't want to be left in this huge house alone with only himself as company. It has never ended up well for his body, or his mind in the time Before. He was alone a lot, Before.

Vessel promised he'd try to keep the bond open. He knows what will happen if they leave him alone.

"Okay. I'll go." Vessel agrees, flipping the pancake over finally.

He frowns, staring forlornly at the crispy edges and dark, dark brown middle.

"You will?" III exclaims, excited at Vessel's agreement, handing the bowl of whisked eggs to II so he can start making scrambled eggs out of it and hopping off the countertop.

"Mhm." Vessel contemplates saying more, leaning into III a little bit as the other moves closer to Vessel's side, and decides it should be okay.

He trusts them. He is letting his bond stay open, giving them unfiltered access to his emotions. He trusts them.

"Didn't like being alone last time." Vessel focuses on the pancake in front of him and not the sudden regret spiking down II and III's bonds.

"Before you say anything, I am the one who decided to stay at the house. It's not your fault I felt that way." Vessel can feel their eyes on him and chooses to ignore it.

If Vessel turns around, he fears he may start crying again as the clear reassurance mirrored on II and III's faces trickles down the bond purposefully. He doesn't think he can handle seeing it on their faces.

Feeding Elvira takes priority before they all sit down to eat, not wanting to forget or cruelly have the cat watch, hungry, while they ate. When everyone sits around the table in the dining room that doubles as the living room, Vessel realizes that the pancakes taste a little burnt.

Dejectedly, he apologizes, the taste lingering on his tongue unpleasantly. III is quick to shut him down, scarfing down their pancakes with only butter as a topping, mask pulled up over their nose. "I thought you'd douse them in syrup." II comments, putting only a small amount on his short stack.

III hums in amusement, grabbing a few more pancakes off the plate placed in the center of the table, "You'd think, wouldn't you? I prefer them like this, but sometimes I do douse them in syrup. Absolutely drown them in it. Oh, Ves, maybe uh, a minute less on the skillet next time. These are good though, really! Just a little bit too done."

Vessel apologizes again with one corner of his mouth dipping too far into a frown for III's liking, and they wave him off with his fork and a large, reassuring grin, losing a skewered piece of pancake in the process. It barely misses the plate, falling to the floor as III lets out a whine of disappointment. Vessel laughs softly, no more than a shuddering of his shoulders and his frown lifting into a smile instead.

Breakfast is a quick affair after that, III eager to leave, devouring the rest of his plate in record time. II eats his pancakes and eggs within a normal amount of time, actually tasting the food instead of just inhaling it. Vessel only eats one full pancake, not needing it as sustenance like the others but still wanting to enjoy the taste, as burnt as they turned out. II picks up all of their empty plates before Vessel or III can do it, and Vessel and III share a look. III mouths "mother hen" behind II's back and Vessel huffs a laugh again.

Everyone pushes in their chairs, only one, the Fourth, collecting dust. They have all chosen their place at the table, and so it sits unused until the next vessel arrives. It has not escaped their notice that there are four main bedrooms, four main dining chairs. A decision on Sleep's part, most likely.

It doesn't take any longer than twenty minutes for the three of them to meet up in the foyer, all ready to leave. III's hair is pulled back in a bun so his mask will fit over it fairly well, in one of Vessel's shorter shirts that barely reach his hips, exposing a sliver of midriff that catches II and Vessel's gaze immediately, and a pair of Vessel's looser, billowing pants that he wears often around the house.

III reaches up to tuck a stray, loose wave behind their ear, and neither II nor Vessel can look away as the shirt rides up and exposes more of the pale expanse of III's skin. Vessel blushes to his ears again, II's own blush spreading down his neck as he takes in III as well.

III has no right being so damn pretty.

Vessel isn't feeling much better when he finally sees what II is wearing, which is nothing out of the ordinary, but its II, so Vessel always thinks he's breathtaking anyway. A hood is pulled up over the mess of his hair, the jacket long like a coat, sitting over a plain black t-shirt that hugs the muscle of his arms. A pair of comfortable joggers are tied loosely at his hips, powerful thighs and calves not causing the stretchy material any strain.

"If you continue staring, we're never gonna leave." II states, his dimple showing as one side of his mouth lifts to display it with an amused smile, an eyebrow raised.

"Sorry." Vessel murmurs, wanting to tell them both how pretty they are, but he's far too flustered to be able to get the words out without stumbling over them, and he's already so anxious as it is.

"I don't mind sweetheart, but Three needs more clothes that fit them properly. You can stare at me all you want on the ride to town." II grins, though his bond is a little unsure, holding his hand out for Vessel to take.

II hopes he's not being too bold, but seeing III be so daring with his touches and words, and Vessel not shying away from them like they'd both expected him to, makes II want to do the same.

Vessel takes his hand but doesn't meet his eyes with any of his six, fingers linking gently with II's own. "I'm just teasing, Ves." II admits as he watches Vessel's face get more and more red by the second.

Hesitant relief slips down the bond, and Vessel smiles, nodding as he rubs a thumb over a groove in his mask, held securely in his available hand along with the car keys.

III takes in what Vessel is wearing, a too big, grey t-shirt that hangs low on his neck, revealing their God's symbol on the hollow of his neck, over a black long sleeve with loose sleeves that leave room for his bandages. A pair of skinny jeans hugs his hips, held up with a brown belt that doesn't match the color scheme of the rest of the outfit. He's wearing black boots, which III immediately finds strange. They're not sure they've ever seen Vessel in anything but socks or barefoot. Even outside the house, Vessel seemed to prefer going barefoot despite the twigs and plant matter that litters the ground.

"We ready?" III asks, after ogling Vessel a little longer.

III confirms easily as Vessel hums his agreement and everyone steps outside.

Vessel closes the front door securely behind them, willing the vines lingering on the outside of the manor that climb along the wall to cover the door, wrapping over the handle and crisscrossing over the expanse of the door. Like this, with the vines overwhelming the wooden lattices on either side of the small porch, bolted to the detailed columns, the house looks abandoned, like the forest has overtaken something humans have staked claim to that had never belonged to them in the first place.

The car is parked nearby under the shade of one of the larger trees whose branches creep towards the house, and II asks who will be driving and who's going to sit in the passenger seat.

"I'll sit in the back." Vessel pauses before a small smile creeps onto his face, "I can stare at Two that way."

Vessel is pleased when his horrible attempt at a joke causes II and III to laugh as everyone puts their masks on.

The car starts up loudly, and with some difficulty when everyone gets settled inside. Vessel doesn't like being in the back by himself, even if he was the one who chose it, but II makes up for it when he puts one of Vessel's My Chemical Romance CD's on over the radio, knowing that Three Cheers For Sweet Revenge was Vessel's favorite.

Vessel flexes his fingers as they drive, answering when II and III ask him for opinions on topics he was only half listening to as II drove. Curl, uncurl, curl, uncurl. Vessel watches his claws dig thinly into his skin, misses when II would hold his hand while they drove to town. It kept him from fidgeting too badly, kept him from picking at the skin around his fingernails, pulling until the skin came free and blood beaded at the top. Vessel loved the sting.

Vessel avoids II's concerned gaze in the rear view mirror, singing along very quietly to the music and pretending his anxiety isn't eating away at his nerves. III turns around in his seat as best as they can with the seat belt limiting their movements, a hand coming to rest on Vessel's knee while III continues talking. III is pleased when it soothes a bit of the anxiety they can feel in the bond, the rest of the drive feeling less tense with one of them not so stressed. Vessel slowly inches the fingers of one hand onto III's before wrapping them around loosely, in case III wants to pull away. III casts a smile through their mask Vessel's way, curling their fingers around Vessel's hand in return. Vessel cannot stop his smile the rest of the drive, a small thing that remains as he continues to sing along quietly to the radio.

II parks in a lot with a multitude of stores at the behest of III when they point out a few thrift stores in the area. They know the area far better than II and Vessel, having lived here Before, so following their directions is easy.

As II and III get out of the car, Vessel still sits perfectly still in the back, except the trembling of his hands as his claws pick at the skin around his nails.

II leans back in from where he's gotten out the drivers side door and not closed it yet, "Are you sure you're okay with this sweetheart?"

Vessel nods, even though he is anything but okay. He wants the floor to open up and swallow him whole to escape the stares and the whispers he knows he will hear.

"I don't mind just picking you out some things if you tell me your size, Sugar." III says from beside II, wanting to lean in and look at Vessel properly but knowing there isn't room to do so.

"No, I'm okay. I promise. Just..." Vessel takes a deep breath, "Hold my hands?"

II and III smile, II's a soft lift of one side of his mouth that just barely allows his dimple to appear, and III a big grin. "Of course, I would love to hold your hand." III exclaims while II follows it up with an agreement, stating that he already does that anyway.

Vessel gets out, and his hands are taken in warm ones immediately. It helps, immensely, for them to be so near. To be so willing to touch him.

"What style do you prefer, Sugar?" III asks, attempting to distract Vessel, dragging both II and Vessel with them as they head to the first thrift store III sees.

Vessel stares resolutely at the cracked concrete sidewalk, anxiety making his hands shake as he feels the eyes of the townspeople on the three of them.

"Ah, modern Victorian emo, I suppose? I'm not sure what to call it. I love the Victorian style shirts with the puffy sleeves and more flowy material, but I always leaned towards black skinny jeans and chains, with boots." Vessel stumbles over his words, trying to think back on when he actually dressed out of enjoyment and not just in whatever fit and was mostly clean when he got more depressed.

"I must say I'm not surprised at all." III laughs, squeezing II's hand gently next.

"And you, Doll?"

"Comfy, in monotone colors. Ah, techwear sometimes but I didn't have a lot of free time outside of my job so I mostly stayed at home to drum and read, or game on occasion. Those clothes didn't get much use Before."

"I am also not surprised at that. You seem like a techwear kinda guy." III hums, pulling them along into the two-story building.

It's brightly lit with violet and white paisley patterned walls, small clear-crystal chandeliers and modern light fixtures hanging down a bit too close to head level, with rows upon rows of clothing racks tightly packed into the small shop, organized by color. Racks of shoes and purses line the walls, and towards the back is a couple changing rooms. Crossed off with a chain to the right of the changing rooms, a white-painted staircase leads up to the second floor.

"The old woman who lives here is legally blind, but can still see somewhat. She won't mind our masks. I used to come here all the time Before, she was always kinder than the other townspeople." III says, pulling Vessel along with them as II wanders off, only after making sure Vessel is alright.

Vessel lingers close as III leads them to the black clothing section, letting them pick out clothes at their whim. III has a mound of clothes piled in their arms before long, and Vessel offers to carry them.

"Oh, you don't have to do that Sugar." III refutes, gaze as soft as their smile.

"It's okay, I want to." Vessel assures, and smiles when III begins to hand the clothes over.

"I'll be taking these." II grabs the clothes before Vessel can, breezing by them with a smirk and an offhanded comment, "I'm the one with the super strength, and your arms are injured Ves."

Vessel pouts, watching II speed off as III laughs quietly. "He's right. I'm glad he interfered, your wounds slipped my mind."

"I'm not incapable. Besides, I did it to myself." Vessel frowns, flinching only slightly when III places their hand on his masked cheek a little too quickly.

"I would rather chop off my own limbs than purposefully cause you pain." III states seriously, without room for argument. "Two agrees, without a doubt. Let us be kind to you when you are unable to be kind to yourself. We care for you, Vessel."

Vessel doesn't say anything, but he smiles, taking III's hand and bringing it to his lips for a gentle kiss to their bandaged knuckles, a whispered 'thank you' like a cold breeze on their skin. There is disbelief in the bond, uncertainty that III means what they say. Vessel wants to believe them, he really does. They've done nothing but exceed his expectations. They're kinder to him than anyone he has ever known.

Vessel loves them, both of them. He desperately wants to believe they love him too, but he doesn't know what love looks like, directed at himself. Everyone who has ever claimed to love him has destroyed him, body and mind. He doesn't know what gentle love looks like, would never be able to recognize it on his own.

Sleep knows this. For all that human emotion and its wide range has confounded him, it has also fascinated him. Sleep has watched humans fall in and out of love for millennia.

Sleep knows that His Vessel was never truly loved Before the God went to him. Sleep watched, listened. You do not belittle and antagonize until they snap under the weight of such cruelty. You do not hit those you love hard enough to mar their flesh with purple-blue.

Sleep knows that his vessels all love each other, His First simply cannot see it.

Perhaps it is time Sleep took action again, for the sake of His beloved First.

Vessel tilts his head at the feeling of Sleep's presence lingering near for but a moment before disappearing to the edges of his mind, where He usually stays. III's hand is still held in Vessel's own and when Vessel glances up through the thin mesh covering the eye holes of his mask, he finds III watching him keenly. A soft look and an emotion Vessel can't name thrums ever so gently through the bond, and Vessel forces himself to look away lest that tender gaze lights his soul ablaze.

Another customer walks up, browsing the items with no apparent concept for personal space. The woman leans in close to Vessel, eyeing his mask with an interested gaze.

Vessel clutches III's hand as he presses up against them to escape the woman, flush against III's side in his effort to escape the touch of a stranger. She watches him in interest for a moment, smiling a little to herself and batting her eyelashes. III continues shopping, humming quietly, pressing a little of their weight into Vessel. It's comforting, and appreciated. They reach for a long black pleated skirt at the same time as the other customer, and a stare down ensues.

There is a challenge in III's eyes, the mask covering their features to hide the mischievous smile, the sly humor that is so clear in the bond. There is a dare in the deep ocean of his eyes, as if to say "go ahead, grab it. I dare you. I'll take it personally." Vessel doesn't quite understand how that worked so easily, as the intimidated customer quickly retreats to the other end of the store.

III's eyes still hold some remnant of challenge when they turn to smile down at Vessel, letting go of Vessel's hand to swing one lanky arm around Vessel to pull him closer.

Ah, perhaps Vessel is just weak at the sight of III's ocean eyes surrounded by such long lashes.

"Let's go find Two. I found some stuff for all of us to try on, but I'd like his opinion as well, aside from him running off with the clothes." III says, keeping his arm around Vessel's shoulder, keeping Vessel close.

Vessel doesn't pull away, doesn't even think to force himself out of III's personal space. He's too busy swimming in the contentment such simple affection brings.

The arm feels possessive. Vessel tries not think about how much the idea appeals to him. Vessel wants to be coveted by III, by II. While Vessel wants them to want him enough to be possessive over him, the thought... unsettles him. The distress sits where his heart uses to lay. Deep in his chest, encircling very rib like ivy that cannot be torn away, aching like the memories of people he can't remember.

"What're you thinking about, Sugar?"

"Before." Vessel answers simply, still a little lost in thought.

III hums, pulling Vessel impossibly closer as they near II, then speaks after a moment, "If you ever want to talk about what you remember, I'm all ears. I'd be glad to share the burden of your past if it eases the weight on your shoulders."

Vessel takes time to think of what to respond with. He is always so astonished by the things they say, and sometimes, the only thing he can manage is small, unsure, "Thank you."

II has piled all of their items in an overflowing basket that swamps his form as he holds it. It's a wonder he can see past it, and Vessel frowns, hoping it isn't too heavy, even knowing that II has extraordinary strength. "We ready to try all of this on?" II asks.

III confirms and they all head over to the small changing room section. There are only two, one unoccupied and the other out of order, marked off with a sign that says the same. III has the most clothes, so Vessel and II send them in first.

They sit next to each other on a too small bench, fingers clasped together on top of their thighs pressed close. It doesn't take long for III to come out of the changing room, and Vessel barely manages to stop his mouth from dropping open at the sight of him.

III is in a pair of baggy black cargo pants pulled low and tight at the waist with a white and black checkered belt. A tight black high necked crop hugs their chest, exposing their stomach and the shiny,  black gem of a silver belly ring.

A fierce blush flames on Vessel's face all the way up to his ears and he is eternally grateful for his mask. Not so grateful for the bond that he kept open, broadcasting his flustered state and the hint of arousal.

III is gorgeous.

II nudges Vessel's shoulder with his own, laughing at the embarrassed smile pulling at Vessel's cheeks.

"I-is this okay?" III asks, suddenly nervous.

"You look beautiful!" II compliments, gently nudging Vessel in the ribs with an elbow.

"You should wear crop tops more often." Vessel blurts before covering his face with his hands.

II laughs, and after a moment, III follows, their nerves slipping away to be replaced by mirth. Vessel knows the laughter is not out of cruelty. Embarrassment swells within him, and Vessel feels as though he will burst with it.

"Here's hoping the few others I picked out fit, then." III smiles, before heading back into the changing room.

They come out in more revealing tops, some tight, others flowing and loose. There are a few long sleeved shirts and t-shirts in the mix, as well as plain jeans, shorts, and cargo pants. At one point, III comes out in a few skirts, both long and short. One particular skirt, pleated and a pretty pale blue that exposes his lower thigh, catches Vessel's attention. Vessel only looks away when they twirl a little, and his face goes up in flames once more, ducking his head a bit and averting his gaze elsewhere.

By the time its II's turn, III has gotten nearly everything they tried on and hums happily, tapping their fingers along Vessel's knuckles, hands held close while they wait for II to come out.

They don't have to wait long before II exits the changing room in a pair of cargo pants much like III has gotten, held up by a simple black belt, and a plain black t-shirt. "There really wasn't much to my interest or size in this store, which is fine. It happens." II says, unbothered, stuffing his hands in the pockets of the pants.

"We can check out some others, this town is full of 'em." III offers, apologetically.

"No, its fine. I'm content with what I've got at home, and hopefully some of this will fit." II assures, and III nods, smiling.

II goes back in the changing room, coming out a few times with outfits that are mostly the same style. Comfortable  and monotone, just as he'd said.

Vessel thinks he looks pretty in every single one of them. II would look pretty in a potato sack, Vessel is sure.

Too soon, it's Vessel's turn. III had managed to find an older style shirt, and Vessel is careful about putting it on.

When he exist the changing room, II and III share a look with matching grins.

"That style definitely suits you." II comments as III hops up, speeding over to Vessel, walking a slow, appraising circle around him.

"How did you manage to find this?" Vessel asks rhetorically, in quiet awe of III's find.

The black shirt is loose, with long sleeves that balloon further toward his wrist, where its then cuffed tightly, held closed by a button. There's a small V cut into the chest, held loosely closed by a black silk ribbon. Vessel hasn't owned a shirt like this in some time. He always loved the dramatic flair shirts like these brought to his outfits.

It fits perfectly.

Vessel is truly a beautiful sight, III thinks.

His hair was pulled back into a messy bun, loose strands framing his mask, leaving his pointed ears on display. III was surprised no one asked about them, but they suppose they could explain them away as a body modification if anyone was bold enough to question them publicly. It wouldn't be too odd considering the rest of their attire. III can just barely see the middle pair of Vessel's eyes peeking out from the middle eye holes of his mask, only the red of his iris' visible.

Vessel looks up, finally, and meets III's eyes, smile soft, "Thank you."

"You're welcome, Sugar. I'll keep an eye out for things like that from now on. The style really does suit you."

III had managed to find a couple of other shirts like the one Vessel had initially tried on. Their condition wasn't great, holes and tears in the sleeves, but Vessel didn't mind. He could just wear them with some of his ripped jeans to match.

When everyone is done shopping at that particular store, Vessel hands the credit card over to II, who leaves him with III to go pay, carrying all of the clothing with ease despite III and Vessel's protests. Holding hands with II and III has become so easy, like second nature. Vessel does not think that it is an act, at least, when they wordlessly ask to hold his hand. Over time, he has grown to cherish it. One action of clear care that he can admit to himself is genuine.

II comes back quickly enough, bags in hand, and they head out, intending to put their bags in the car before going to the only store in town that sells the sort of electronics III wants to buy.

"I don't know what fashion icon finally decided to aim for mental stability and get therapy in this tiny, shit town but I am forever thankful. I found some really good stuff!" III exclaims happily, as they pile the bags of clothes in the trunk of the car.

The game store is a quick affair, and III walks out of the shop with a big grin and a brand new PlayStation console with a few games to try. The large store that doubles as groceries and appliances i next, and they tie down a large tv to the top of the car a bit too precariously. Their next stop is a store that sells phones. III mentions there's one nearby, just a couple blocks down in another outdoor shopping center.

As they are putting the large box in the trunk alongside their clothes from the thrift store, III glances up. His gaze catches on some passerby further into the parking lot.

A man is wearing a deep crimson shirt. It would be pretty if not for the specific color, stark against the streetlight, and III can't tear his eyes away.

The sight makes III nauseous.

He doesn't know why the color is unsettling him so thoroughly all of a sudden, when they know they've seen similar shades all day. Perhaps its the exhaustion of long shopping trips settling into his bones and making him susceptible to the traumas deep in his mind.

"III?" Vessel asks, quiet and unsure, hesitant, no doubt feeling their distress.

Vessel wished he never said anything at all. The look III gives him when the other pulls their gaze to meet Vessel's eyes, it's- Vessel will never forget the look in III's eyes. They're so... haunted.

III can't look at Vessel. All he sees is blood, so much blood. In their minds eye, a flash of Vessel, bleeding from the healed scars on his body overlaps with reality. Blood is soaking through his clothes, slowly spreading from his arms, his thighs, his hips. It dribbles from his mouth, and III shakes their head, hoping to rid the image from his mind.

"I'll be right back." They manage, just barely, struggling to keep the contents of their stomach inside.

III would hate to puke up breakfast after Vessel put so much effort into it. It'll take forever to get the taste of vomit and pancakes out of his mouth every time he even thinks about eating more.

"Oh, we can go with you." II starts, still half in the car from where he was about to get in.

"No! No, its fine. I'll be right back, promise, I just need to use the restroom." III lies hastily, the taste of it like ash on their tongue.

Vessel and II watch them go, their worry in the bond palpable. III hates to be the cause of such concern.

There's a gas station nearby, across the road. The clerk at the front hands him a key when they ask about a restroom, directing him outside and around to the back of the building. The sun has set by now, only dim lights leading the way. It would be creepy if III didn't have night vision, able to see clearly without any issues.

By the time he actually gets into the restroom and locks the door, most of the nausea has passed. III takes a moment to calm down further, wanting to get back to the others but still shaken up. Their hands tremble under the faucet as they wash them with cheap soap that smells far too chemically for III's liking.

Fuck. III hates the trepidation they caused in Vessel's bond because they couldn't keep control over their reaction to a fucking color. III used to love red, why did that have to chance because he saw some blood?

He knows its not just because it was blood.

It was the look on Vessel's face. The apathy in the bond. The ease with which he had cut into his arm, the sight of the blood beading up and spilling over.

III covers his mouth quickly to stifle the sudden gag, the nausea back tenfold. Fuck. Fuck.

A few tears slip from his eyes, sliding into his mask to leave glittering golden specks on the soft material. They are hyper aware of the bandage wrapped around their hand, pulling their hand back to stare at the white cloth. His palm and fingers ache where the blade sliced deep in his haste to get it away from Vessel. They don't regret it.

They wait in the restroom until the tremble in their hands is barely noticeable, until the nausea has receded and not returned for a good bit. Ten minutes must have passed by that point. He's been away from Vessel and II for too long, as II tugs ever so slightly on the bond in question. III replicates the action, feeling II's worry and wanting to assuage some of it.

Tucking some stray strands of hair behind their ear, III lets II's response of agreement wash over him. He still isn't sure how they all can get certain feelings or ideas down the bond, but III is thankful for it anyway. Taking a deep breath, III steps out of the restroom, its key in hand, gaze a little distant, lost in his own mind.

Then, there is a hand over his mouth, an arm around his throat, placing tight pressure as III gasps out precious air in surprise. They kick out uselessly, alarm bells ringing in his mind as a large form drags him into the forest beside the gas station. II and Vessel's bonds are immediately a mess of confusing emotions, swamping him with their own fear and his.

Fuck.

[msweebyness]

Class of Villainy AU: Kidnap the Principal!

Why, what a surprise! Weeby’s doing a villain short! Here’s the lowdown: In a trademark move of ignorance, the staff of the DuPont Reform Academy has decided to allow the students from the villainous classes to make…home visits for the holiday season! And some people aren’t too happy about that, particularly Ms. Vivica “Viv” Skellington, the DuPont music teacher. Who knows what’s going to happen with Ivan Oogie back in Halloween Town? That’s where we begin our tale:

(As always, credit to @imsparky2002 and @artzychic27!)

“Has that fool Damocles lost his everloving mind, Penny?!”, ranted Vivica Skellington as she stormed back and forth in the main square of her beloved Halloween Town, her girlfriend nodding as she mended a few torn stitches in her left leg, “Letting these kids out on HOLIDAY BREAK! Does he not remember how dangerous each and every one of them is?!”

“It does seem a bit reckless…”, Penny agreed in a worried tone, twisting a lock of her brilliant violet locks. Who knew what could happen with the Boogie Man back in his hometown!

“It’s completely and utterly irresponsible, is what it is! Why I oughtta scare….the wits out of him…”, the snazzily-dressed skeleton trailed off as she was suddenly hit with an idea, “Why, that’s IT!”

“…What’s it?”, Penny asked cautiously, knowing that look in her girlfriend’s eye sockets! It meant Viv was getting one of her ideas…

“Why, what better way to convince ol’ Damocles not to make this boneheaded mistake again, than to SCARE HIM STRAIGHT?! We’ll bring ‘im to Halloween Town, and give the old boy a good talking to with a little Fright Night Flair to it! Ha HA!”, Vivica explained excitedly, gesturing wildly with her bony hands.

“…If you say so, Viv…”, Penny sighed reluctantly. She wasn’t too sure about this idea, but she knew there was little chance of talking the Pumpkin Queen down when she got on a kick like this!

“And as for getting Damocles here…I know JUST the ones for the job!”, Vivica said with a sly smile.

A short while later…

The dual-faced mayor of Halloween Town cringed as he saw a certain three ghoulish children make their way into the main square, cackling and shoving each other along the way. ‘What are those little imps doing here?’

“Viv!”, he called with a nervous edge to his voice, “It’s Boogie’s Brats!”

“Oh, it’s quite alright, mayor! I asked ‘em here!”, Vivica assured, before she turned to the troublesome trio, “Ah, just the trick-or-treaters I needed to see! I’ve got a real special job for you three!”, she grinned, peaking the children’s interest.

“A special job? Just for us?”, the miscreants that were Chris, Manon and Prince Kiran smiled gleefully, skittering over to the Pumpkin Queen.

“Indeed. This task requires craft, cunning, mischief! I couldn’t think of three better people for the job!”, Vivica enthused, kneeling down before the gang of costumed youngsters. The three cackled with wicked delight.

“And we thought you didn’t like us, Viv!”, Manon giggled madly, throwing her arms around the shoulders of her two cohorts.

Vivica’s demeanor suddenly turned deadly serious.

“Now before I tell you kids, you best understand. No One outside of this square is to know about your mission! Not a single word of it to that gamblin’, buggy-brained Ivan Oogie, y’hear? Not. A. Word.”, the skeletal lass said firmly, looking deeply at each child in turn.

“Oh, yesss.”, Manon gushed, putting in her best innocent face.

“Of course, Viv!”, Chris grinned, his sharpened canines, so much like his older brother’s, gleaming bright.

“We promise!”, Kiran giggled, a hint of poison gleaming in his eyes.

Unseen behind their backs, three sets of fingers were crossed as Vivica leaned down to explain their assignment.

Another short while later…

The trio of Trick-or-Treaters piled through the gates of Halloween Town, trekking out over the hills to their clubhouse, situated in a large dead tree in the midst of a barren forest.

“Kidnap Mr. Damocles?”, the three chorused in wicked glee as they exchanged mischievous looks.

“I wanna do it!”, Manon insisted.

“No, let me!”, Kiran crowed.

“Viv said we should work together!”, Chris reminded his two companions with a roll of his eyes, bonking them both on the head.

“Three of a kind!”, Kiran agreed.

“Birds of a feather!”, Manon cheered.

“Now and forever, wheeeee!”, the three squealed as they rode the rickety old lift up to their treehouse.

(La, la, la)

(La, la, la)

(La, la, la, la, la, la)

The three exited the lift into a dark and shabby room filled with various weapons and hunting traps, all varieties of nasty bugs crawling every which where.

Kidnap the Principal, lock him up real tight

Throw away the key and then turn off all the lights!

Darting over to their wall of cage traps, Chris plucked one out and set it, giggling madly as he did so, Kiran and Manon watching with interest.

“First, we're goin' to set some bait, inside a nasty trap and wait!”, Chris explained as he placed an old lollipop inside the rusted cage, setting it on the ground.

“When he comes a-sniffing we will, snap the trap and close the gate!”, Chris continued, the three children shrieking with laughter as a large, hapless beetle scuttled to the dirty piece of candy and was snared in the trap!

“Wait, I've got a better plan, to catch this silly, stupid man!”, Manon suddenly interjected, sporting a positively batty grin as she scooped up the cage and moved to their small, dilapidated kitchen.

“Let's pop him in a boiling pot, and when he's done we'll butter him up!”, she crowed, throwing the captured bug in a pot of boiling water and then fishing it out when it was cooked just right.

Kidnap the Principal, throw him in a box

Bury him for ninety years, then see if he talks

The three kids pranced over to a chute with sharp metal teeth, beaming maniacally as the dropped the caged bug down it.

“Then Mr. Ivan, the Boogie man!”, Manon cackled, fidgeting as she heard the sounds of skittering bugs and rustling fabric down the rusted steel passage.

“Can take the whole thing over then!”, the trio chorused, excited to see what their boss would do with the pudgy, prissy principal!

He'll be so pleased, I do declare!

That he will cook him rare, whee!

The rickety cage rattled down an old pipe, eventually coming to land in a room lit by blinking casino lights. The terrified creature within trembled as a large and ominous shadow loomed over it…

“I say that we take a cannon, aim it at his door and then-“, Manon suggested eagerly, picking up Kiran and placing him in their cobbled-together catapult, the Poison Prince giggling all the way.

“Knock three times and when he answers…Damocles will be no more!”, the raven-haired boy finished, his silver eyes gleaming with excitement as Manon nodded giddily.

“You're both so stupid, think now! If we blow him up to smithereens, we may lose some pieces!”, Chris snapped, smacking his coworkers upside the heads once more before placing his hands on his hips.

“And then Viv will beat us black and green!”, the other two miscreants agreed, shuddering at the thought of the Pumpkin Queen’s anger. When Kiran attempted to get down, he fell headfirst into an old ash pot, making Manon and Chris smack their foreheads in exasperation.

Kidnap the Principal, tie him in a bag

Throw him in the ocean, then, see if he is sad!

Chris and Manon fished their companion out of the pot, holding upside down by his feet. Kiran’s face was covered in ash as he coughed to clear his lungs. The other two children carried him over and tossed him into the large, haunted bathtub they used as transportation.

“Because Mr. Ivan Oogie is the meanest guy around!”, Chris reminded his pals in a jittery tone, shivering as he thought of the ways of the young Boogie.

“If I were on his boogie list…”, Manon squeaked, shuddering and rubbing her arms at the thought as the old cage came back up the chute, now empty.

“I'd get out of town~!”, Kiran completed the thought as he popped his head over the rim of the bathtub, his silky hair now soaked.

“He'll be so pleased by our success!”, the Poison Prince went on to say, gripping the edges of the tub as he shook with glee.

“That he'll reward us too, I bet!”, Chris enthused, bouncing with anticipation as he hit the button that caused the tubs legs to sprout, bringing it with them as they went to gather supplies.

“Perhaps he'll make his special brew!”, Manon suggested, wringing her hands in an antsy stupor, as they looked around their inventory room.

“Of snake and spider stew (mmm)!”, the three finished together. Say what you would about the boogieman, he knew how to cook!

“We're his little henchkids and we take our job with pride! We do our best to please him and stay on his good side!”, the three kids mused to themselves, looking back on all the fine work they had done for the spookster, until Kiran splashed Manon, which led to another bout of bickering and an eye roll from Chris.

“I wish my cohorts weren't so dumb…”, Chris bemoaned, resting his head on their worktable with a heavy sigh.

“I'm not the dumb one!”, Kiran cried, his pale face turning red with anger.

“You're no fun!”, Manon pouted, crossing her arms over her chest.

“SHUT UP!”, Chris shouted, glaring at the two for interrupting his complaints.

“MAKE ME!”, Manon shrieked, tossing a broken toy at Chris’ forehead.

“I've got something, listen now! This one is real good, you'll see!”, Chris announced to his cohorts, catching their interest as he began to gather supplies.

“We'll send a present to his door! Upon there'll be a note to read!”, Chris continued, bringing a large box over to the other two children, opening it and freeing the scorpions inside.

“Now, in the box we'll wait and hide, until his curiosity, entices him to look inside!”, Chris said giddily as he shut the box and tossed it, along with some other supplies into the tub with Kiran.

“And then we'll have him, one, two, three!”, the three cheered, as Chris and Manon jumped into the walking bathtub, the trio riding it back down the lift and out into the woods!

Kidnap the Principal, beat him with a stick

Lock him up for ninety years, see what makes him tick!

They could hardly wait to see what torment they could wreak on the pompous principal before delivering him as promised.

Kidnap the Principal, chop him into bits

Mr. Ivan Oogie is sure to get his kicks

Their master would surely be proud of them! Just wait until he saw the gift they would bring him this time!

Kidnap the Principal, see what we will see

Lock him in a cage, and then throw away the key!

Ah, ha, ha (he, he, he)

The three cackled maniacally as they rode off into the distance, away from Halloween Town.

Meanwhile….

Down below the mischievous trio’s treehouse, a certain force of nightmares was grinning with malevolent glee.

“So Mr. D’s gonna be droppin’ in to see our fine little town, huh?”, Mr. Ivan Oogie cackled as he rolled his favorite set of dice. Snake Eyes, of course, which always meant some fantastic trouble would be brewing!

“What are you going to do, buggyboo?”, asked a honeylike voice, prompting the young boogieman to give a start and turn and see his beloved scallop grinning at him through the viewing portal she had likely summoned at some point without his noticing. He gave a great laugh at how she’d yet again managed to spook him. Hell’s Bells, did he love that girl!

“I’m gon’ do the best I can, Pun’kin!”, he answered her with a positively evil smile, which she returned as the two wicked sweethearts descended into a fit of terrifyingly villainous laughter.

Their dear ol’ principal was in for a restless night…

And there it was folks! Keep an eye out for the little sequel we’ve got planned! Love and hugs!

[kurasutaa]

I cant remember if ive mentioned on here that Akes dad kashiro is currently locked up in tartarus.

also no one knows hes his dad. everyone thinks his handler rick is his dad but he pretty much is.

anyway

homeboy kinda lost his everloving mind and instead of just getting arrested he decided to try and flee and because his quirk is the way it is; it caused a very large mass casualty incident in osaka

[foliosriot]

green with envy (even as i'm blushing like a cherry) (5960 words)

eddie munson x steve harrington ao3 if that's what you prefer :)

tonight’s the night. eddie finally invited steve to the hideout to see corroded coffin play after months of his friends/bandmates badgering the everloving fuck out of him and pressuring him to just give in.

in theory, eddie figured it wouldn’t be stressful by any means; he’s just playing another gig — a gig where his best friend raging fucking crush will be somewhere in the crowd, watching him. in practice, eddie was vibrating with nerves, more so than usual. he’s been anxiously nibbling at his fingernails for the past thirty minutes, but thankfully everything is set up on stage and ready to go.

eddie could not believe he somehow convinced steve "the hair" harrington to attend a metal show. well, a more-than-amateur metal show where the crowd consists of mostly drunks and stoners, but a metal show nonetheless. however, the thought of steve being in the crowd — being there for eddie — made eddie’s stomach do somersaults as he not-so-subtly peaked out through the curtains to gaze out over the growing crowd from backstage. his heart felt like a bass drum, double-foot pedals slamming into the vital muscle, threatening to obliterate the fragile membrane.

god, this couldn’t be fucking happening. he’s never been this nervous before a show. not even the first show corroded coffin actually got to play at the hideout. then, he’d been high on adrenaline and weed and utterly buzzing with anticipation. now, he’s stone cold sober and jittering with fear and anxiety.

he needs a fucking cigarette.

but that thought is immediately crushed when a hand lands gently on his shoulder, causing him to jump. eddie swings his head around to see gareth looking at him as he carefully withdraws his hand.

”dude, you good?” gareth asks, concern subtly gleaming in his eyes.

eddie blinks a few times then nods. “yeah. i’m fine,” he tells him, near breathlessly.

gareth scrunches up his eyebrows. “it’s just another show, eddie,” he reminds him. there was something in his voice that was making eddie’s skin itch.

yeah, a show where steve harrington will be watching my every fucking move.

”and just because steve is gonna be here doesn’t mean it’ll be any different,” gareth continues, as if he were able to read eddie’s thoughts. “we’re gonna kick ass either way.”

eddie bit down on his tongue and forced himself to agree with gareth. because gareth was right, after all, like he goddamn always is. it was just another show that steve just so happened to agree to attend. it’s not a big deal, and eddie internally scolds himself for making it seem like it was honestly and truly a bigger deal than it really was.

gareth stood by his side until it was time for corroded coffin to take the stage. eddie forced down a few deep lungfuls of stagnant air that smelt like alcohol and sweat, and stiffly followed after his bandmates.

like gareth had said: just another show. and that’s exactly what it was. eddie successfully got his mind off steve so he could focus on traipsing his nimble fingers up and down the neck of his beloved warlock and nailing each strumming pattern. he got lost in the music, and didn’t bother paying that much attention to the obvious groupies that were front and center of the crowd or frantically searching the faces before him for steve. (and thankfully, the lights were bright enough that they prevented eddie from looking further beyond the corroded coffin groupies.)

fortunately, their set ended with raucous cheering and whooping, and eddie was able to catch his breath. unfortunately, the lights came back on and eddie finally got to see everything in front of him, which meant he instantly began searching the sea of faces for steve.

the cymbals and bass and wailing guitar were all still shouting mercilessly in his chest when he finally spotted steve. he was sat at the bar, and he visibly brightened when he caught eddie’s eye. eddie was about to wave at him in greeting when steve’s attention was drawn elsewhere.

a man approached steve. eddie couldn’t make out any defining features from the stage so he didn’t know who it was. but he started talking to steve like they were old friends, snatching his gaze that had been lingering on eddie a bit too long.

eddie huffed as he began packing up his guitar as jeff, gareth, and grant were already hauling their shit off-stage. eddie helped them get everything into the back of his van before they all headed back inside. although, the cold night air felt refreshing on his sweaty skin, so he may have stayed outside a few minutes longer than necessary. definitely not so he could avoid steve just a bit longer.

as he was about to dive into the crowd, eddie’s eyes found steve with no trouble. steve and the mystery man were talking, their heads angled inward, too close for eddie’s taste. there was a twinge underneath his sternum, and the remaining adrenaline coursing throughout his body was coiling into an untidy knot in the pit of his stomach at the sight.

steve was smiling widely at the man and laughing at something he had said when eddie got in front of him. steve noticed him and essentially threw himself at eddie, his arms coiling around eddie’s neck and eddie’s wrapped around steve’s waist. the proximity was soothing and calmed eddie down, calmed his post-show nerves and eased that unnecessary weight from his shoulders.

steve pulled away too soon for eddie’s liking. but the beaming grin on his face was almost worth it.

”eddie! that was fucking amazing,” steve complimented him. “why have i never seen you perform until tonight?”

eddie shrugged. “didn’t think you’d want to come,” he admitted as he shoved his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. “y’know, i figured the metal scene wasn’t somewhere you’d feel comfortable or welcome, so i never asked.”

”well, you are an incredible guitar player, so i’m definitely coming more often.”

the way steve said that made eddie’s stomach twist and jolt with apprehension. but he would be lying if he said he didn’t like the feel.

and the way he was looking at eddie? if eddie didn’t have a firm grip on his self-control at the moment he would be pouncing on steve in an instant. finally get to see what the hype was all about when it came to kissing steve harrington. finally get to see what it was like to taste him as their tongues collided and—

“oh, eddie!” steve’s voice knocked him out of his head. “this is ash,” he said, gesturing to the man standing beside him.

now, eddie finally turned his attention to the mystery man. he hadn’t spared him a second glance since he first spotted steve right after their set.

ash was a few inches taller than steve, just like eddie. his wavy hair was dyed black — a shitty box dye at best, if eddie had to guess — and hung delicately around his face. he wore a dingy denim jacket that was decorated with some band patches and pins, with a bad religion t-shirt underneath. his jeans were tattered and torn, adorned with patches of different fabric patterns and accessorized with safety pins and a couple chains. he had on annoyingly chunky black combat boots, and eddie could just make out bland black socks sticking out. a small silver ring stuck out of each earlobe and a stud clung to one nostril.

a punk at a metal show.

a punk with steve harrington at a metal show, no less.

eddie must be fucking dreaming.

“ash, this is eddie, eddie, this is ash,” steve introduced them.

ash gave him a tight lipped smile and a brief nod before turning his attention back to steve. the gesture set something off inside of eddie, and he didn’t have the guts to give it a name. at least right now.

this guy wasn't rubbing eddie the right way, and he needed to get away. of course, he didn't want to leave steve, whose eyes kept returning to eddie every few seconds. that alone would keep eddie glued to where he was standing. but ash the punk was crowding into steve's space and giving eddie the cold shoulder.

"um . . . well, th-thanks for coming, stevie," eddie said to steve as enthusiastically and genuinely as he could muster. ash was now fully standing in between steve's legs, effectively stealing steve's attention entirely. the sight made eddie grit his teeth until it hurt.

without another word or attempt at getting steve to acknowledge him, eddie spun on his heel and walked away. he shoved his way through the crowd until he was backstage. none of the guys were idling back behind the curtain when he stepped into the secluded area. eddie groaned, grabbing his leather jacket and stomping for the back door.

thankfully, the guys were standing next to his van. they were definitely still hyper with adrenaline but very obviously coming down. gareth was twirling one of his drumsticks around his fingers as he leaned against the van. jeff was bouncing on the balls of his feet while grant was half-asleep next to him.

but as soon as they caught sight of eddie, all signs of exhaustion vanished and they were talking at him at a million miles an hour.

"what'd harrington think of his first corroded coffin performance?" grant asked.

"yeah, he had to have had some choice words for it," jeff added from where he was leaning against grant. "was he polite about hating it or what?"

grant and jeff kept badgering eddie with random questions from the left and the right. and honestly, eddie couldn't find it in himself to care. because frankly, he was exhausted, hungry, and maybe just a little bit pissed off. gareth happened to notice his strained expression and finally relieved eddie of the chatterboxes they call friends.

"you guys are assholes," gareth cut in, his tone bland. "we had a damn good show, right? how 'bout we just head home? eddie can tell us tomorrow.”

god bless gareth.

so eddie reluctantly climbed into the driver's seat and, once everyone was in, he swerved out of the hideout's parking lot. and if his throat was tight from the urge to cry then that's for him to know, and him only.

the next morning eddie felt like a corpse. his limbs were heavy and his head was numb as he shuffled to the kitchen for some breakfast.

as he sat and ate his sad cereal, dejectedly eating it on the couch, eddie found himself reminiscing about the night before. he remembered having an anxiety attack all day because steve had agreed to go see corroded coffin perform. which meant his mind reminded him of the fact that steve hadn't been alone. he had someone with him, a punk for fuck's sake.

it was more than obvious that the guy didn't want to be there. eddie could tell he had been slightly uncomfortable in a metal-dominated environment but was too proud to say so.

what was his name again? crash? rash? eh, eddie could care less.

the way he had been all over steve sent a paralyzing shiver up eddie's back. he had been deliberately stealing steve's attention, something eddie was 100% sure of.

but steve had been there to support a friend. just a friend. eddie and steve were nothing more, so eddie had no reason to feel like this. whatever this is.

and, it's not like eddie and steve flirt like there's no tomorrow. or that they are always pressed up against each other even when there's plenty of open space around them. or when steve will show up to the trailer whenever eddie calls, when eddie is bored or lonely, or just wants to see him (which he never outright says). and definitely not when steve will cuddle with him without complaint.

yeah. none of that means they're more than friends.

although, eddie can’t help it. he can’t push away the pulsing ache in his chest. he can’t clear away the lovesick fog from his brain. just the thought of steve hanging out with someone that wasn't him — save for anyone else in the party — made him sick.

he wants steve, and he wants steve to himself. he doesn’t want to share. and he sure as hell isn’t going to share with a bitchy fucking punk.

jesus christ, he needs help.

eddie finishes his cereal and sets aside his empty bowl. he sots back against the couch cushions, anxiously nibbling on his bottom lip.

maybe that is what he needs: help. maybe he should just go to steve and talk to him, tell him how he has the biggest fucking crush on him and how it makes him physically ill to think of him with anyone that isn't him.

eddie nearly laughed at himself for just thinking that.

what about robin? robin could help. yes, robin could help eddie!

and he knew for a fact robin was working at the family video today. he could get her alone, in case steve is working, and tell her what's going on.

genius.

unfortunately, when he shows up to the family video, eddie is met with the sight of steve's bmw parked out front. eddie is suddenly nervous, especially as he forces himself to go inside.

but someone basically rams into him when he walks through the door. eddie finds himself apologizing before recognizing who collided with him.

fucking trash.

the punk grimaced at the sight of him but changed his demeanor completely when there was a laugh from further in the store.

back behind the front counter was steve, who was hiding his smile underneath his hand. his shoulders were gently shaking from laughing, and it made eddie see stars.

"ash, you remember eddie, right?" steve said as his giggles were dying down.

ash — eddie liked trash more — gave steve a curt nod. he turned back to eddie, his eyes cold and dark.

"yeah, i remember him," he replied, but only loud enough for eddie to hear. "i'll catch ya later, steve," he called over his shoulder before pushing past eddie out the door.

eddie grumbled under his breath as he made his way over to steve. he forced a smile that quickly turned genuine at seeing steve already smiling gently at him.

”hi, eddie,” steve greeted him.

”hiya, stevie.” eddie grinned brightly at him as he planted his palms flat on the surface of the counter, leaning forward until he was nearly in steve’s space. “how’s it goin’?”

”it’s going okay,” steve says. his eyes are soft as he stares at eddie. “better now.”

”yeah? why’s that?”

steve shrugged with one shoulder. “i mean, you’re here, so,” he tells eddie.

this makes eddie smile even wider and brighter, his grin rivaling the summer sun outside.

”oh? little ol’ me?”

steve doesn’t respond. all he does is gnaw on his bottom lip, clearly biting back a smile, and avoids eddie’s eyes. it has eddie’s heart swooping down to his stomach.

”well, as much as i would love to stay and chat, i need to talk to robin,” eddie explains, once he is sure he has steve’s blushing face imprinted on his brain. “she here?”

the diverting conversation has steve finally meeting his eyes, but he looks a little disappointed. although, maybe eddie was imagining it, because the look is gone in the blink of an eye.

”i’m covering for rob today,” steve says. he has the ghost of a grin stretching his lips. “said she had a family thing.”

fuck.

now eddie has to wait to talk to robin. he sure as hell isn’t driving over to her house after this. no way.

”shit, okay.” eddie couldn’t swallow the slight panic that had found its way into his voice.

”is everything okay, eds?” steve asks, his eyebrows scrunching up.

eds. eds. eds.

fucking hell, this boy was going to be the death of eddie.

”uh, y-yeah, everything’s fine, stevie,” eddie says in assurance. “just had a question for robin. it can wait, though.”

steve nods, though he doesn’t look completely convinced.

”but i’ve gotta go now. talk to ya later.”

eddie begins to walk back towards the exit when he finds himself stopping just as he is about to reach for the handle to the door. he bites down on his lip as hard as he can before turning back towards steve.

”y’wanna go see corroded coffin again next friday?”

steve’s eyes are wide as he nods enthusiastically.

”yeah, of course! i’d love to.”

”sick.” eddie smiles at steve once more. “i’ll see ya later, sweetheart.”

and with that, eddie finally pushes the door and leaves the family video. he harshly bites his lip as he’s getting in to his van, scolding himself for inviting steve to the hideout again. at this point he’s basically setting himself up for failure, especially if steve brings stash next week. the thought sends a jolt of discomfort down eddie’s spine as he starts the van and gets the hell out of that parking lot.

-----

eddie didn’t see either steve or robin the rest of the week. he was terrified for friday night but he had to get over himself one way or another. so if that meant seeing his crush bring another guy to his band’s gig, then so fucking be it, right?

gareth had definitely noticed eddie’s change in behavior since he first invited steve to the hideout. eddie hadn’t disclosed anything him or the rest of the band, but gareth had seen steve and his plus-one during their performance last week. he knew eddie wouldn’t react well.

and react well eddie did not.

eddie ended up ranting to gareth profusely after going to family video for robin, where he saw steve instead. he had bitched on and on about ash, the annoying punk who had stolen steve’s attention like it were a pot of gold, something that could be bought and used for his own gain.

if eddie were being honest, he doesn’t have anything against punks. he thinks they’re great people and that they are a very welcoming community. but ash had rubbed him wrong, and he couldn’t place his finger on why. their brief interactions had a left a permanent sour taste in eddie’s mouth.

now, here he is, just like he was the week prior: standing in the shadows of the curtain, anxiously waiting for corroded coffin to go on stage while he scoured the growing crowd for a glimpse of steve.

eddie didn’t catch sight of steve before they had to take the stage. he lost himself in the music, just like always, and hoped to whatever deity that may be watching over him that steve was here. that steve was here, not steve and ash.

but the almighty deity or whatever the fuck is a cruel bastard. because as he was done loading all of corroded coffin’s instruments and gear into the back of his van, eddie saw steve sitting next to ash at a booth. and robin?

without thinking, eddie pushed his way through the crowd until he reached his friends’ table. steve was the first to spot him, who jumped to his feet and hugged eddie tightly. he didn’t seem to notice — or care — that eddie was still sweaty from performing, or how eddie clung to him longer than usual.

robin sure did, though!

robin cleared her throat from behind eddie. steve pulled away from eddie rather quickly at that, and sat back down next to ash, who was toying with one of his necklaces, obviously bored. but eddie couldn’t bring himself to care, especially as robin gave him a speedy hug before sliding into the booth.

”eddie, that was awesome!” robin compliments him once he is sat on the end of the booth across from steve. “you guys rock.”

”aw, thanks, rob,” eddie says with a genuine smile.

robin continues talking at eddie, but he’s just so tired that he begins spacing out. his head is swimming and his heart rate hasn’t calmed down much since the band finished their set. he doesn’t think he’ll stick around much longer before heading home.

before eddie can bring himself to politely cut robin off, steve speaks up.

”hey, i’m gonna go get some drinks,” he announces as he stands. he looks at ash. “c’mon. you can come help me.”

ash rolls his eyes but follows after steve anyways. eddie watches them walk away, not realizing he’s glaring at ash until robin nudges him. he whips his head around to look at her. all he sees is her looking at him, her eyebrows raised and a pointed gleam in her eyes.

”what?”

”really?” robin scoffs. “that’s all you have to say?”

“i have no idea what you’re talking about,” eddie replies, confused.

robin groans. “oh, my god, eddie. steve. your crush on him is blatantly obvious, and it hurts to watch sometimes.”

“oh, fuck off,” eddie snaps, but there’s no bite to his voice. he crosses his arms over his chest. “my crush on him is not that obvious, okay? and even if it was, i doubt he feels the same. he’s got mash over there to keep him company.”

”his name is ash,” robin corrects him, although there is a hint of a snicker in her words. “and steve and ash just hang out. they met a few weeks ago when ash came in to the family video, and then they became friends. that’s it.”

”you weren’t here last week, rob. you didn’t see how they were with each other.”

”yeah? what were they doing? ash getting all up in steve’s face and giving him just a little bit of his attention? steve eating that shit up? was that what you saw?”

”well, yeah, but—“

“no, stop. steve—“ robin takes a moment to take a deep breath, as if she’s mulling something over. eddie looks over at her. “steve likes you, eddie. a lot. but i don’t think he knows how to deal with that. so i think he’s trying to distract himself with someone who gives him just an ounce of their time. but i know he wants your attention more than anyone else’s.”

he sighs. “fine. i was gonna talk to you about this anyways, but looks like you beat me to it, buckley.”

robin shoots him a small grin. “don’t wait too long, okay?” she tells him. her smile falters before it falls entirely. “he isn’t very nice about, y’know . . . to both me and steve.”

eddie doesn’t have to guess what she’s referring to so vaguely. he knows it all too well. somehow ash knows about robin or he was able to figure it out all on his own, which makes eddie see red.

eddie clenches his jaw. he hates that robin is right. ash isn’t someone eddie should be envious of. he’s honestly not that attractive, and his cold personality is also not attractive by any means. he’s off-putting and had made eddie uncomfortable when they first met. there’s nothing good about him that eddie has been able to see.

and he could tell what robin was trying to tell him: tell steve how he feels. he needs to, especially if this dickhead has been passive aggressive to two of his best friends. steve and robin mean a lot to eddie, and he’d be damned if he let someone get away with harassing them.

”you’ve gotta be fucking kidding me,” eddie mutters under his breath. he glances back over at the bar to see steve and ash heading towards them with glasses of alcohol in hand.

before steve can hand eddie a drink or sit down, eddie stands. he comes face to face with steve, whose eyes are wide as he looks at him.

”i’m gonna head home,” eddie tells him softly. “but thank you for coming, stevie. means a lot to me and the guys.”

even under the dark lighting of the hideout, eddie can clearly see steve’s face flush bright red. he blinks a couple times before he comes up with a reply.

”of course, eds,” steve says. “i love watching you play.”

eddie smiles gently at him.

”good to know.” eddie bites his tongue momentarily. “hey, do you wanna come over tomorrow? i need to tell you something.”

”uh, yeah, sure. are you okay?”

”y-yeah. i’m okay,” eddie assures him, though it’s a partial lie. “but uh, i’ll see at six o’clock tomorrow night? wayne will be at work.”

steve nods. “yeah. i’ll see you then.”

”cool. see ya, stevie.”

and with that, eddie dives back into the crowd until he makes it to the back door backstage. he doesn’t see the rest of the band, but then remembers jeff had driven his own car and took gareth and grant home right after the show.

eddie is shaking as he drives through the dark. he’s anxious and nervous and downright pissed off. learning that ash has been rude and nasty to robin and steve about things that they can’t change about themselves is quite possibly the worst thing that could have happened tonight.

when he gets home, eddie stumbles through the living room of the trailer half-blindly. his vision is blurry from exhaustion, but also from a bought of tears that wants to fall so badly. he chokes them back as he showers. he chokes them back as he puts on semi-clean pajamas. he chokes them back as he curls up in his blankets, wishing sleep would come to him faster.

eventually, eddie does slip into a feeble slumber. anxiety has been chewing away at him since he invited steve over. he wakes up groggy and grumpy around noon, even though he was already half awake by nine.

alas, his anxiety does not waver as the day passes. if anything, it gets worse. then when wayne is getting ready to leave to head to the plant he stops in eddie’s open door.

”hey, eddie,” he greets him. eddie snaps his head up to look at his uncle. “your boy comin’ over tonight?”

”he’s not my—“ eddie drags out a sigh, knowing it’s not worth arguing with wayne on the matter. at least right now. “um, yeah. yeah, steve’s coming over to hang out. hope that’s okay.”

”course it’s okay,” wayne says. there’s a mischievous twinkle in his eyes that eddie does not like seeing, especially when it comes to steve. “he go to your show last night, then? y’know, if he’s not your boy after all?”

”oh, my god. get out, old man!”

wayne chuckles softly before telling eddie goodbye and leaving the trailer for the night. that leaves eddie alone with his thoughts for the next little while.

and he can’t stop thinking about what he’s going to say to steve. what could he say? other than confessing his undying love for him, and how he cares about him more than anything else, what would he even say in the moment?

this is hopeless, eddie realizes. he is hopeless. he’s bound to make a fool of himself, thus making steve uncomfortable and ultimately leaving without eddie even getting a proper sentence out.

he is utterly doomed.

then there’s a knock on the front door, and eddie begins to wonder if it’s too late to escape through his window.

but he’s made it this far, hasn’t he? he can make it another hour or so.

eddie takes a deep breath as he goes to open the door. his pulse is thudding in his neck, and part of him wishes it would just burst spontaneously and kill him. he stamps down the brief thought once he’s face-to-face with steve. and steve . . .

he’ll never admit it, but eddie loves seeing steve in his silly little polos. they work for him, and he loves it. eddie would never be caught dead in one. but steve pull them off so well.

he could pull something else off.

eddie internally scolds himself for that as he steps aside to let steve in. steve smiles at him once the door is closed. but there’s an air of anticipation around them, and eddie finds himself choking on it.

“hi,” steve greets him. and god, eddie is already completely gone. how is he supposed to confess his crush on steve when the guy is looking at him like that? with that charming look on his handsome face, making eddie get all soft and gooey on the inside? it’s unfair.

”hi,” eddie breathes out.

steve stares at him for a few more seconds, then says, “i don’t mean to be forward or anything, but you said you had something to tell me?”

”oh, yeah. right.” eddie swallows nervously. “follow me.”

he leads steve down the hall to his bedroom, where he stands by the door as steve gingerly sits on the edge of eddie’s bed. he looks mildly uncomfortable and eddie can’t have that.

eddie heads for the bed and sits down. he scoots back until he can sit crisscross with plenty of space between him and steve. this gets steve to turn towards him, thus pulling one leg up onto the mattress and folding it at the knee. he begins picking idly at his shoelace.

”so, um . . .”

he can’t do this. why did he think he could do this? this was so much worse than what he had initially anticipated from robin’s words last night. he was insane for thinking this would be easy.

but steve is looking at him, his fingers still playing with his shoelace. he’s staring intently and patiently as eddie searches for the right words.

it takes a while but eddie thinks he knows what he wants to say.

”never did i expect to be friends with steve harrington,” eddie begins hesitantly. “it was never something i particularly wanted, if i’m honest. but when henderson and the other gremlins joined hellfire and they were talking about this steve guy, i would have never guessed you were one in the same. ‘cause that steve gave them rides to school and wherever else out of the kindness of his heart. that steve was graduated and friends with freshmen. so this supposedly cool steve i didn’t know was an utter mystery to me.

”then henderson finally had us meet. and shit, man, you . . . you were so much better than what i expected. ‘cause i wasn’t expecting king steve harrington to be the one those gremlins would not shut up about. and yet, there you were. and i—“ eddie pauses, glancing briefly at steve. “i got to learn firsthand that you are truly a good dude. you changed for the better since high school, and that had me scrambling.”

eddie chances another glance to see steve still staring at him. but his eyebrows are knitting together and his eyes are shiny and wet.

”you threw me for a loop, stevie,” eddie goes on. “i was suddenly spinning out of control but i liked it. i still like it. and i like how caring you are. i like how selfless you are. i like the way you shamelessly flirt with everyone. i like your hugs, whenever you’re comfortable with touch. i like— i like you.”

he says the last part so quietly he barely hears it himself. though it’s clear that steve heard it. his eyes are wide and his cheeks are cherry red and eddie can’t drag his eyes away from him. his heart is racing but he’s too far gone.

”and when you finally came to see us play, i was so excited.” eddie sniffles, struggling to restrain the tears suddenly begging to fall. “but you had someone with you, and i figured that you were on a date or some shit, i dunno. i got jealous. i got angry. it was obvious to me that you like ash, so i decided to wallow in my self pity instead of saying something.”

eddie finally looks away from steve. he doesn’t see the tears slip down steve’s face or the way he’s staring at eddie with imaginary hearts popping out of his skull. but eddie said what he wanted to say. what more can he do?

as eddie’s gaze is glued to his pillows, steve shuffles over to him. eddie grinds his teeth in an attempt to ground himself and steve settles in next to him, their knees almost touching. the proximity is suddenly terrifying.

”i don’t like ash like that,” steve finally says, his voice quiet. “we just hang out sometimes. and he invited himself to the hideout, but i wasn’t gonna be a bitch and tell him no. i do, however, like you. i like you a lot, eds. like, it’s insane how much, really.”

a beat passes before there’s a gentle hand cradling eddie’s jaw. he tenses but allows steve to maneuver his head to look at him. steve is smiling gently.

”you okay?” steve asks.

eddie returns his smile, albeit a bit sad. “yeah. i’m okay.”

steve leans forward until his forehead is resting against eddie’s. eddie closes his eyes and basks in the warmth from steve, the relief he feels after the massive weight has been lifted from his shoulders.

eddie can feel steve brushing his thumb along his jawline, and eddie never wants him to stop.

“eddie?”

steve’s voice is close to a whisper.

”yes, sweetheart?”

”can— can i kiss you?”

eddie’s nodding as steve finally closes the distance between them.

the feeling of his lips on steve’s is infinitely better than his initial theory. steve’s lips are soft and plush and eddie finds himself reaching for that silly little polo. eddie grabs onto the fabric and holds tight.

eddie has no idea how long they’re kissing. he ended up feeling adventurous once he felt steve brushing his tongue along his lips, and almost fell apart at the seams when steve was licking into his mouth like an expert.

steve crawled into eddie’s lap. eddie immediately wrapped one arm around steve’s waist and the other slipped into his hair, his fingertips scratching lightly at steve’s scalp. he experimentally pulls a bit, and is more than satisfied at the small whine it derives from steve. steve has both hands on either side of eddie’s face as they just kept kissing and kissing.

but steve eventually pulls away from eddie. his fingers slip into eddie’s hair as eddie is blinking open his eyes. he sees steve’s lips are red and swollen, and he is blushing like mad. his eyelids are at half-mast and the beautiful brown of his irises are nearly pitch black from his dilated pupils.

“i also like kissing you,” eddie says in a breathy voice. it earns a smile from steve.

”i like kissing you, too,” steve tells him.

they lean their foreheads together once more, and eddie has never felt so relaxed or so hyper in his life. but steve is massaging his head with the tips of his fingers and the calm begins to outweigh the nerves.

”stay the night?” eddie asks. his thumb is rubbing circles into steve’s hip, and a soft sigh comes as a reply.

”i’d love to.”

”good.” eddie bites his lip. “what does this mean for us?”

”i don’t know,” steve answers. “but personally, i like the idea of being your boyfriend.”

a chuckle escapes eddie’s throat. “i like that idea too,” he says with a smile. “you wanna be mine, stevie?”

“yeah, i’ll be yours, eds.”

with that, eddie wraps his arms around steve’s middle and steve wraps his around eddie’s neck. steve buries his face in eddie’s hair, his breathing tickling eddie’s ear. and if this wasn’t the best feeling ever.

[thiefbird]

B, K, & X for the ask game ? 😊

B - A pairing–platonic, romantic or sexual–that you initially didn’t consider, but someone changed your mind.

I think William Bush/Horatio Hornblower - I went into the fandom having only seen the show and read the first book, and therefore was fully on board with both Pellew/Hornblower and Archie/Hornblower but was not quite certain on Bush's having any feelings for Hornblower outside of firm friendship. Aaaaand then I started Lieutenant Hornblower. That man took one look at gangly, mournful Hornblower and lost his everloving mind about him. And who can blame him? So I guess you can say C.S. Forester himself changed my mind - the coyness around the Kingston Debauch sealed the deal. Now I'm more fully on the Bush/Hornblower train than I am on the Archie/Hornblower one.

K - What character has your favorite development arc/the best development arc?

Oh I just answered my #1 baby boy Anders, so I will have to come up with another! I think William Laurence. He goes from being this incredibly by-the-books, not quite hardhorse but very exacting Naval Captain in the first book, to committing treason and temporarily defecting to France by the fourth. And then, because he holds himself to the most absurd standards, he returned to England to be put to death; he fully believes that he both did the right thing committing treason, and is entirely deserving of being hanged for it. Laurence, babe. Please for the love of god get yourself some therapy. (This is apparently Tharkay's job)

X - A trope which you are almost certain to love in any fandom.

I'm gonna answer this two ways: a trope that appears in canon that will always catch my heartstrings, and a trope in fanworks that I gravitate to every time. First, canon tropes and themes: Loyalty and love. I think this is what pulls me to the Boat Book series like Aubreyad and Hornblower. I really love it when characters are dedicated to each other, and when it's well done it will make me insane. Patrick O'Brian does it incredibly well. Jack and Stephen are unwavering in their loyalty to each other, of course, but so are the Surprises to both of them, and Sophie to both Jack and Stephen, and Stephen to Diana. (I also consider Jack loyal to Sophie, and Diana loyal to Stephen, just not perhaps chastely so.) And in fanworks: It's very funny as an aromantic-spec staunch relationship anarchist, but I love love love a WELL DONE soulmate AU. I think they can be a fascinating look into the world, and how something like that would change society. I have soulmate AUs rotating slowly in my head for Hornblower and Aubreyad, and for Dragon Age, if I ever convince my brain to stop thinking about the Napoleonic War. I also love HDM/Daemon AUs. I think everyone should have an independant, sublimating portion of their soul that can talk back to them and takes the form of a Beaste which you can cuddle.

[redwayfarers]

For Nika please? <3

henlo meg!! i'll indulge u just this one (lies i will always talk abt nika) here's a random gpose i took once

86. How would your OC/WoL introduce themself?

just by his name, i guess. not adding any titles or anything. he's really starting to hate being called the warrior of light, so he'll just say his name - not the name he was born with, nikita, but nika, which is his legal name in just about anywhere but ul'dah - and cringe very very hard at the fangirling that ensues when the other person realises who he is.

87. Does your OC/WoL have a comfort object?

his yellow crystal earrings for sure, he wears them all the time and they're probably the most nostalgic object he owns. they're a gift from mina, back when he still lived with his moms.

another one is his dusty ass lute that he probably can and should get replaced, but he sticks to it and will atacc anyone who says it doesn't make good music. it's what made him money before he joined the immortal flames and became the warrior of light and he's so stupidly attached to it he can't will himself to part with it. one way to know he's having A Time TM is if he's carting it around even in places where he isn't about to perform lmao and if you ask about it you get a frown and a "fuck off"

88. When was your OC/WoL at their lowest?

torn between the end of heavensward and the start of the patches and the end of stb patches <3 the former is when he disappears for a few months, leaves his lute with tataru and becomes a drk because regular therapy scares him and sword therapy is right up his alley. he might've lost his mind for a while there, but it's okay.

the latter is when he gets humbled by zenos so badly he needs months to recover from the injuries. a lot of that is the result of being hurt so badly he almost died, and the recovery was downright humiliating because he couldn't do shit, and it's equally humiliating that the near death experience terrified him so badly he can't talk about it.

he's having a normal one y'all

89. Does your OC/WoL know that aligators have an increased chance of seeing them later? (Write reactions)

"aligators? what the everloving fuck would i do with an aligator? if i wanted to go out with a lizard, i'd ask an au ra. if they're here to fight though, i'll need to get chainmail because they have teeth and shit."

[paleontaxi]

▸   @sncwfall   ⟶   ❛   𝐁𝐀𝐃 , 𝐁𝐀𝐃 , 𝑺𝑶 𝑺𝑶 𝑩𝑨𝑫 ! the naughty list wasn't good enough to place the mans name , santa br͟i͟e͟f͟l͟y considered making a 𝐂𝐑𝐈𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐋 𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 just to truly start pulling apart the 𝒅𝒊𝒇𝒇𝒆𝒓𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝒘𝒂𝒚𝒔 naughtiness manifests . HE ISN'T HERE AS SANTA , THOUGH . he's here as 𝒔𝒄𝒐𝒕𝒕 𝒄𝒂𝒍𝒗𝒊𝒏 - a man who 𝘀𝘁𝘂𝗺𝗯𝗹𝗲𝗱 𝗶𝗻𝘁𝗼 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗵𝗮𝘁 , a man who above all else is a father himself . he cannot comprehend the loss of his own child , never mind in such a 𝑉𝐼𝑂𝐿𝐸𝑁𝑇 𝑊𝐴𝑌 . 𝑺𝑪𝑶𝑻𝑻 places down a small box - dinos of all types littering the wrapping paper in little hats ; inside lies a 𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐆𝐎𝐒𝐀𝐔𝐑𝐔𝐒 𝐒𝐍𝐎𝐖𝐆𝐋𝐎𝐁𝐄 , a backdrop of forest &. the little dino looking up to the left . scott felt forced to place a note inside , he does not condone ; however , he cannot deny the violence of a grieving father , he will not pretend to not understand , he will not pretend to be a sane man should any harm happen to charlie . ' 𝒊'𝒎 𝒔𝒐𝒓𝒓𝒚 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒉𝒂𝒔 𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒆𝒏𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒐 𝒚𝒐𝒖 , 𝒋𝒂𝒓𝒐𝒅 . may you find what you're looking for &. remember , you are worthy of happinesss &. healing - 𝓢 . '   ❜

What the everloving hell was this?  Some kind of trick?  Jarod had no one alive who would willingly give him Christmas presents.  His first thought was that it was a Brigade seeking revenge for one of their fallen friends—they were fans of explosives.

Still, there was something about the dinosaurs on the wrapping that softened and disarmed him, and he stooped to remove it gingerly from his front step.  He carried it to the kitchen table and sat staring at it for several long minutes in the lonely orange light, a staple of a happy home, which had long lost its warming effect on him.  Then, he began picking at the corners of the wrapping a little at a time while his head screamed that it was a bomb and his heart whispered that it was something else.

Something good.

He peered into the box with a torrent of mixed feelings, and he caught a glint of glass.  He removed the globe and held it in front of his face, his heart’s suspicions confirmed.

Something good.

He shook the globe around, then followed the flakes as they settled over the back and nose of the dinosaur inside.

Who the fuck would have sent this?  He looked back in the box and rooted around in it until he secured what he was looking for, a note.  You are worthy of happiness, signed ‘S.’  Jarod would have thought it was a mistake if the note wasn’t addressed to him by name.

S… it couldn’t be him, and it was stupid to think so.  Jarod had stayed up late to play him for Lola, what felt like a lifetime ago now.  All the same, the mere thought made him sit back in his chair and smile to himself.

He could think of the perfect spot for the globe, and he got up and walked to that room.  It had not changed a bit from when she left it ten years ago, as if it was still waiting for her to come back.  Jarod stepped to the tall, white bookshelf in the corner by the window and set the globe up against a withered paperback novel.  It was the first new thing to be stationed in the room in a decade.

Jarod’s heart swelled, and his eyes brimmed with tears, cool and refreshing for once, not the hot, exhausting ones of wrath and grief.  He touched his index fingertip against the snowglobe’s smooth surface.  “We’re gonna have a good Christmas, Lola,” he said softly to the dinosaur inside of it.  “This year—I swear it.”