#oof I need to get some actual sleep for once

[samwisefamgee]

the 20 dollar pair of throwaways I got for my sister's wedding were perfect for the like 7 hours I got them for but are really not perfect for like anything else ever

[syoddeye]

oh ho ho! so simon calls and asks the bartender out...what are we thinking? does he go all out trying to prove he actually isn't a loser and can pull off a suave date? or does he purposefully plan the most off-putting date possible to get back at her for being a pain in the ass?

prev.

i love that you think he's going to call right away. nope.

simon sends some version of you up? after close, then stews for hours when you don't reply. he sits in the dark, phone in hand, grumbling to himself. the cigarette between his fingers burns low, barely making it to the ashtray before he lights another.

he lasts three days. three nights of drinking alone at home, refusing to go to the pub and show his face. the thought crosses his mind to go elsewhere, where it'd take him all of fifteen minutes to find a bit of skirt, but somehow, you've gone and sucked the thrill out of that.

his pride keeps him tethered in place, stubborn to a fault, but even that has its limits. on the third night, the ashtray beside him overflowing, he finally caves. he calls.

"so you can follow instructions. i was worried i'd have to draw you a picture."

he doesn't waste time. "sent ya an address. i can be there in ten." 

"yeah, i looked it up. looks like a classy joint. free wifi." 

"…you comin' or not?" 

"mm, got a policy. can't sleep anywhere lower than three stars." 

"s'not for sleepin'." 

"then let's do yours. got a bed frame?"

simon straightens, caught off guard. that's unexpected—that you're game. he expected more of a fuss, but if you're just in it for dick, things are back on track.

he glances at his bed. the rumpled dark blue sheets are half-pulled off the mattress, still on the floor where he's always kept it. it's never mattered before, but no one's ever been here, either. hotels keep it impersonal. neutral ground. they reinforce the rules. they do the cleaning.

"can't. i'll come over." 

"oof, i've got another policy." you chuckle. "can't have someone over until we've gone on an actual date. you know, to make sure they're normal. or close to it." 

you have no idea.

he imagines sitting across a table in some overpriced restaurant, squeezed into a tiny chair, with loud music pounding in his ears. wasting money on drinks and food. all that just to stare at the tits he knows you're going to hide underneath some layers while you make small talk. it makes his skin itch.

but. if your stupid little 'policies' don't exist solely to jerk him around, he'll earn passage into your world. your place. unknown territory, somewhere to plant a flag and humble you all at once.

forget his lack of a bed frame, he hasn't had a bird in her own bed in ages.

"fine. tomorrow."

"sunday," you counter, and he hears the grin in your voice. "i'm off monday. send me a better address, and i'll meet you there. no french food."

he scoffs. "that, we can agree on."

you laugh, teasing. "bring that with you—the sense of humor. you're gonna need it."

[toxycodone]

ship. captain grant mccurley (curly) x reader

content. general hcs + sfw + romantic

an. hehe u guys know i love doing these big ass hc posts to like. characterize and get a feel for how I write for characters sooo yaaaay enjoy this

general curly hcs (feat. the Tulpar crew near the end)

as much as I love scottish/irish/british curly,,,,he is american born. HEAR ME OUT. his parents/grandparents are immigrants buuuut this man is all american (where it counts ig).

he's from Colorado! his family mostly lives around there/mid america. He grew up playing a lot of winter sports (hence his love for it). As a kid he played ice hockey for sure and lost a tooth. there's a polaroid at his mom's place with him smiling happily after a game with a bloodied tooth in between his fingers

but as a pre-teen/teen he moved to the south. somewhere around the mid-south/mississippi basin. as sad as he was to leave Colorado behind, he latched onto southern culture sooo fast. I am a huge southern transplant Curly believer.

And this is when he meets jimmy. They went to 8th grade and high school together. After witnessing Jimmy's terrible ass home life, curly kinda latches onto him. It's a weird mix of being way too empathetic, his savior complex, and just desire to be useful/helpful/etc.

Jimmy basically lived with Curly his junior and sophmore years of high school. His household was abusive and terrible so Curly's own parents let him "sleep over". He has his own toothbrush, loofa, shower products, etc at Curly's. He didn't even ask for them either, Curly and his dad got them out shopping once.

^ Jimmy is thankful but oh my GOD does he resent curly for having such an unproblematic home life. curly has vented about his parents being too overprotective or something before and jimmy lashes out at him for it (oof)

Curly sticks up for Jimmy way. too. much. As much as he cares, it's actually kinda toxic. Curly never lets Jimmy face the consequences of his own actions, downplays all his shit, doesn't take the warning signs Jimmy clearly exhibits...he kinda acts as a barrier to Jimmy growing up and learning to be himself alone.

And on the other hand, Jimmy is way to enabling of this. It's easy. Simple. He latches onto Curly and like. feels threatened by any new friends, romantic interests, etc.

when Curly starts working for the Pony Express (an actual REAL career that takes Curly away from Jimmy)...Jim spirals. yeah.

He goes to jail. and when Curly gets back from his haul, the first thing he does is bail him out, co sign shit for him, etc. So again, Jimmy doesn't face the consequences of his actions. (and we see how that plays out in game...)

BUT YEAH. Jimmy is a mississippi native and he and curly do so much country ass shit together. hand fishing for catfish, mudding, hunting, all that jazz. they are avid rodeo fans too. Curly goes every year (he's tried to compete. broke his wrist doing those calf cathcing/tie down things i think)

Curly and the Tulpar crew have been together for a handful of hauls. (I mean in-game dialogue suggests this too). Knowing people that long means he's a well respected captain and they're kinda a little family!

Swansea is tough to work with, but actually respect's curly. This is bc Curly skirts by the typical PE rules, but not in a bad way. He's really adamant about safety and following protocol, which Swansea respects (although it's annoying). But the 5 hours of rest rule? Curly thinks that's ridiculous. As long as the work is being done, Curly doesn't count break time. So there's plenty of blankets or pillows lying around the common room in case anyone needs a nap on one of the couches. Curly also advises everyone have a blanket and pillow in their work areas during shifts for "comfort" (it's just code for everyone to catch some sleep outside of the time they spend in their quarters).

Curly also makes sure they have game nights + shared meals +etc. He counts these as "meetings" or "team building exercises" when sending reports to corporate.

Curly and Anya haven't been together too long compared to the others. The Tulpar haul is her second haul with Curly, but they've known each other for at least 3+ years and are pretty comfortable with each other. Curly made sure she felt as comfortable as possible being the only girl on their team. (well. yknow. until that ultimately gets tested.) But I think Anya and Curly aren't extremely close which explains why she doesn't immediately come to him w issues + why Curly doesn't deal w Jimmy in a harsher way (it's a combination of Curly being sleep deprived, favoring Jimmy, and ultimately his own paranioa and shortcomings. Curly has a real problem confronting Jimmy bc of his past w lashing out).

Curly is an insomniac. Not on Earth, but on hauls most definitely. He has a lot of anxiety about hauls (which he chalks up to being "normal") and the monotony of them drives him crazy. He's constantly a little sleep deprived.

He picked up weight lifting as a hobby on hauls bc cardio is like. impossible on that ship and it makes him feel good. <3 When he doesn't have access to the gym he does pull ups on loose bars on the Tulpar and stuff lol. He has a few weights and crap though. And that Pony Express brand protein powder is hella useful for cutting.

sfw + romantic

Oh he most definitely doesn't have a partner on earth. It's why he's facing his mid life crisis shit because he's like my god. all this work and status and nothing to show for it wtf. I think he really wants to have a relationship, but most people don't want to put up with the fact he's gone for about a year or so. off planet. with little communication.

On the Tulpar he keeps it in his pants. Curly is a professional and does his best to continue acting that way. But no one really comes onto him anyways? (if they did. my God I think he would be very weak to it.)

He has rizz. Like. Mr. Grant McCurley can fucking flirt like a champ. If he wants you he will make it clear. Ask you out for drinks. Then pay at the end. He makes it clear he's not expecting anything either?? Total southern gentleman shi

Insists on only giving a cheek kiss after the first date too like sheeesh (he's playing the waiting game with you. trying to keep you wanting HIM yeah he's good).

I like to think he's more traditional when it comes to romance like...dates weekly or bi weekly. Gives you flowers and chocolates and stuff. He actively pursues you and its soooooo <3333

No sex until at least after the third or fourth date too like. AGAIN. WAITING GAME. wants you to initiate that stuff (but he'll give hints like putting his hand on your knee and letting it trail up your thigh. YEAH)

He's the type who is always planning his life with you in it. Like, he's gotta have your fave snacks/drinks in his pantry/fridge. You have your own stuff at his apartment before you move in (that he bought, btw. he takes note when he visits ur place). His apartment feels like your home away from home. <3

He definitely rubs his stubble on you to annoy you when he gives you hugs. ewwww i hate men (im lying)

ok idk what else to write but. he used to use old spice but now uses a calvin klein cologne that man smells GOOD ASF

ok thats all i got enjoy

[yallthemwitches]

Only Sleeping

For @jilytoberfest Day 26 🎶One bright morning goes so easy. Darkness always finds you either way🎶 - First Light by Hozier

AO3 Link Here

“Shh, Harry, we can't see daddy,” his voice breaks and the tears fall faster than he can feel them. Back at school he used to call them the miracle couple–The miracle couple now with a miracle boy. 

“Ok Harry, we have to be gentle if we are going to pet uncle Sirius.”

She takes Harry’s palms which are no bigger than snitches and uncurls his tiny fingers until they  lay flat like discs. 

“Remember—just like with daddy prongs: pat pat pat.” She holds him by the stomach and they both lean forward. Guiding his hand in hers, they give Sirius three soft pats to his back.

“Pah pah pah-” Harry gargles out, but some of his fingers start to lace into the dark fur, itching to tug. 

“Open hand Harry! We don’t want to hurt him,” and they repeat the process until Harry is capable of doing it without his mother’s guidance, crawling out of her lap to lean all of his body weight on the dog.

“Be careful, he’s going to think we have a new pet.”

James comes back into the room holding a teapot and three empty cups. Without hesitation, he settles himself cross legged next to Sirius and scoops up the baby, giving him a quick toss in the air. Harry chortles, cheeks ruddy with happiness. 

“I don’t care if I’m the new family dog as long as I have some time off to visit once and a while.” Now transformed, Sirius leans back on his hands, stretching his legs out with a yawn. 

“Dumbledore is stark mad these days—I know I’m a pretty nimble bloke but these missions are starting to take it out of me–”

James looks down at his lap, fidgeting. 

“I didn’t mean it like I was picking up your slack or anything mate–besides you can’t help it. I just wish I could visit more is what I’m trying to say.”

“Yeah–” James nods, shaking the self-disappointment from his mind. Setting Harry loose on the ground to pour their tea, the boy lurches himself in a standing position and zooms off down the hall, his little toddling feet making soft stomping noises as he goes. 

“He’ll be back,” James says simply. Even with Harry gone, none of the adults move to sit at the actual table, all used to life on the floor while entertaining a baby. 

“Have you taught him my name yet?” Sirius says, blowing on his tea. 

“Harry! C’mere kiddo.”

Harry zips back in the room, falling flat on his face before getting up without incident. He beelines to Lily, tumbling into her and grabbing onto her long hair. 

“Harry darling, can you say: Uncle Sirius?”

“Nnnkl siwisis.”

James lets out a laugh. “Well no need to push any farther, that’s good enough!”

Sirius slithers onto his belly and wraps his arms around his godson who immediately becomes interested in his hair, grabbing bunches of it in little fists while waving them around. 

“I know I tell you every time, but you both really did make a bloody cute kid.”

James cracks into a wide grin and Lily leans over to rest her head in her husband's lap, his hand instantly curling into her hair.

“Glad to hear it because we are trying for another. A girl this time if we can help it!”

Sirius shoots up, accidentally making Harry tumble back with an oof.

“You what? Please don’t tell me it’s because you lot are bored all locked up in here because I swear to Merlin—”

“No, It’s not because we are bored, you arsehole,” Lily gives him a pointed glare, “And James is getting ahead of himself��after the war we will try. Right now we are just—”

“Practicing,” James finishes. Sirius makes a puking noise which makes Harry gargle with joy. 

“See, your son agrees–disgusting.” 

James picks up Harry again and tickles his chubby belly with kisses, making his little legs kick wildly into the air. 

“Good thing you two are so grossly in love, otherwise I’d think you’d have killed each other already.”

~~~

The ground was so warm just that morning. Did he imagine it? Could it truly be the same floor?

The teacups glint amongst the rubble, even in shards they are still in the circular formation they had been used in. He suddenly has the urge to call for Hagrid to come back from the other room,“These didn’t fall, we drank them on the ground! We drank them all together just this morning!”

 Harry rustles in his arms, and he presses him closer, baby’s blood smearing into his jacket. The boy reaches up and tugs on his hair, his mother’s advice already forgotten. His eyes wide and green and alive.

“Dah Dah Dah Dah–” he coos, twisting to be free and join his dad at the stairwell. Even he knows it's an odd place for him to lay. They did everything on the ground these days, why not sleep? He looks so very asleep. 

“Shh, Harry, we can't see daddy,” his voice breaks and the tears fall faster than he can feel them. Back at school he used to call them the miracle couple–The miracle couple now with a miracle boy. 

Harry kicks his feet, but not out of joy caused by James’ kisses or Lily’s soft fingers. There's blood getting in his eyes.

“I’m here, buddy. It’s me... your uncle Sirius—remember?”

[sturniozo]

Our Lips Are Sealed VII

Heyyo! I know this took sooooo long but I got a full time job that I’ve been picking up shifts as much I can so I had almost no time off to write. I’m not very happy with how this chapter turned out but at least I got it done. I figure after I finish the fic I’ll edit it and upload it to Wattpad. I thought about doing that with all my fics, but I wasn’t sure if anyone would want that lol. Anyways here the fic

“Is that everything?” Nate asks as he zips up his bag. I swing mine over my shoulder, checking my list once again.

“Lets see, sleeping bag, flashlight, batteries, charger, snacks-” I get cut off by Chris yanking my bag open while it’s on my back.

“What snacks you got?” He asks.

“None for you.” I say as I turn around away from him. “Are you guys checking your bags to make sure you have everything on the list?” I ask as I go back over the list.

“Yeah, yeah.” Chris mutters.

“Y/N, we got everything, chill out!” Nate laughs and pulls my bag off my back to hold onto himself.

I shake my head. “Not until I’m sure we have everything.”

“It's three days.” Nick says. “We’ll survive if we forget a few things.”

“We’ll survive, but it won’t be as good of an experience as it should have been if we remembered everything.” I state.

“She’s not gonna let up until she makes sure we all have everything we need.” Nate says as he sets both of our bags down and sits down at the island counter.

“Fine.” Chris says as he sits down next to Nate, Nick and Matt following and sitting down as well.

“Okay.” I stand up straight and look over the list once again. “Snacks, water, kool-aid packets for those of us who don’t like plain water,” I mumble as I look down further over the list. “Pillows, some extra blankets,”

“Is this just what’s supposed to be in our individual bags?” Matt asks.

Nate hits his arm, “Dude don’t interrupt her.”

“It’s okay.” I shrug. “I have another list for everything else.” I tell Matt. “this is just what's supposed to be in our bags.” Matt nods and sits back in his seat. I go back down the list, opening my mouth to speak but am once again cut off.

“Are joints on your list, cos I have some pre rolled- oof” Chris starts but Nate slaps his arm.

“She didn’t put joints on the list, she doesn’t smoke asswipe.” Nate says.

I set my list down. “So everyone has everything?” I ask.

“Did you go over your whole list?” Nick asks.

“What about socks and pajamas and the other shit?” Nate asks.

“You guys are antsy, and I’m sure you have everything anyways.” I shrug.

“Y/N, you love your lists.” Nate gets up from his seat and takes the list off from the counter. “Okay, extra blankets, swim wear, three days of clothes, towels, tiny sets of shampoo, conditioner, and soap, shower flip flops, shower flip flops?” Nate turns to me with a confused look on his face.

“Those showers at campsites have disgusting floors.” I state.

Nate just nods and goes back to the list. “Go bag- what’s a go bag?”

“For the bathroom, it’s got toilet paper, wet wipes, plastic gloves-“

“Plastic gloves?” Nick asks.

“Do the bathrooms not have toilet paper?” Chris asks.

“Well, yeah, but do you actually want to use gross moldy campsite toilet paper?” I ask.

Nick nods. “Y/N’s right. She thinks ahead.”

“Yeah she always has.” Nate says. “That seems to be it, does everyone have everything?”

“I don’t think anyone but Y/N has a go bag.” Nick says.

“Yeah or shampoo, conditioner and soap.” Chris says, which causes everyone to look at him.

“You didn’t pack that?” Matt asks.

“I didn’t think of it.” Chris shrugs.

“Okay, everyone get fully packed, moms gonna be home in an hour and she’ll want to just change out of her work clothes and leave.” I say, and everyone gets up to get the rest of the things they had forgotten.

I pick up my bag from Nate's seat and dig through the side pocket for the other list. The list of other items meant for everyone during the camping trip.

I look over the list and check off everything that we have, even adding things that I think of to add into the coolers and bags.

I check off the last thing on my list, closing up the cooler and tying and zipping shut all the bags. I stand up straight and set the list down, gasping as I feel someone’s arms wrap around me.

“Happy early birthday.” Chris whispers in my ear as he hugs me from behind.

“It’s not until tomorrow.” I say and try to stay still, unsure what to do.

“That’s what makes it early.” Chris laughs and moves me from side to side as he holds me.

“Did you get everything packed?” I ask.

“Yeah, ma.” He laughs. “I got everything.” He kisses my cheek before letting go of me and moving to stand in front of me. I look down to hide the blush that has creeped up my cheeks. Chris chuckles softly, which causes my stomach to flip. “You’re too cute.” He mumbles.

He reaches his hand to my face, but as soon as Nate walks in, Chris’s hand drops back to his side.

“Everyone got everything now?” Nate asks, seeming not to notice anything.

“Yeah.” I say, not looking at Nate so he doesn’t see my reddened face. He swings his arm over my shoulder and pulls my close to him, not paying attention to my flustered state, fortunately for me.

“Yeah, I was just helping Y/N with the last of the other stuff.” Chris says as he sits down at the counter.

“Mom should be home soon, so we’ll get this stuff in the van when she gets home.” Nate says as he sits down next to Chris.

“So when does your mom get off work?” Matt asks as he walks in.

“I just told Chris she should be home any second.” Nate says as he looks at his phone.

Matt sits down at the counter with the two other boys. I sit down next to Chris. “What’s taking Nick so long?” I ask.

Chris shrugs. “Who knows.” He says. We all stay silent for a few moments, all doing our own thing on our phones while we wait for Nick and my mother.

It’s only a few minutes before we hear my moms van pull into the driveway. “I better go see what’s taking Nick forever to get packed.” Matt says as he stands up.

Nate follows behind Matt, leaving me and Chris alone once again. I glance over at Chris, whose eyes are glued to his phone. I bite my lip and look away.

“I can see you staring.” Chris says before I have a chance to say anything.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I quickly retort as I look away.

Chris just chuckles and puts his phone down, looking my way as he leans his chin on his hand, propping up his head. I glance over at him to see his dorkish smile as he stares at me. Before I can ask why he’s looking at me so intensely, he says “You’re adorable sometimes, you know that?”

A blush creeps up my cheeks. “What?” I stammer.

Before Chris can answer, he shoots up straight, looking at the staircase. I turn my gaze to where his is focused and lock eyes with my brother.

“Why’s your face so red?” Nate asks as he walks down the stairs, Nick following behind him with his bags packed. “Is it too hot in here or something?”

“I think it’s a little stuffy.” Chris says as he leans back in his seat.

Nate shrugs it off. “Let’s not keep mom waiting any longer.” He says as he picks up a few of the bags. I step down from the island bar stool and grab my bags, following Nate out the door and to the car. Our mom sits in the front seat, playing her music as she scrolls what I presume is probably Facebook on her phone.

Matt follows out the door soon after. We all stuff our bags in the back of moms car to the best of our abilities before piling in the car. Nate sits in the front seat by mom, leaving the four of us to cram into the three seats in the back.

“How is this going to work?” Matt asks.

“Maybe we can cram Chris in the trunk?” Nick suggests.

“Y/N can sit on my lap.” Chris shrugs as he climbs in and sits by the window. He holds his hand out to me for me to join him.

“No.” Nate says.

We all fall silent for a moment before Chris speaks. “Then what do you suggest we do?”

“I think Nick’s idea was best.”

Nick stifles in a laugh and Matt punches his arm to tell him to cut it out.

“I’m not gonna fit in the trunk.” Chris says. “What’s wrong with my idea?”

“It’s not safe for Y/N.” Nate says.

“I’ll drive slowly if it makes you feel better, hun.” Our mom chimes in.

“Yeah dude. She’ll drive slow.” Chris repeats.

Nate glares daggers into Chris’s soul and Chris raises his hands in surrender. “She’s not sitting on your lap.” Nate spits.

“Do I get a say in this?” I ask.

“No!” Nate says.

“Yes dear.” My mom says at the same time. Nate looks surprised at our mom. “She’s an adult, she can sit where she wants. And if it on her friend because there’s no seats, what’s the harm?”

“She’s not an adult until tomorrow.” Nate says.

“She’s still old enough to make her own decisions.” Mom says. “Now hurry up and get in the car. Close those doors, you’re letting all my cool air out.” Mom ushers us to hurry.

I squeeze in and sit between Matt and Nick, cramping us all in there. “Are you sure Chris won’t fit in the trunk?” Nick asks again.

“I’m not going in the trunk dude!” Chris says again. “Come here, Y/N.” He pulls me over to his seat at the window. He positions me on his lap, and I hold onto the cupholder to keep my full weight off Chris.

“Are we all ready?” Mom asks.

“No! She’s not sitting on his lap!” Nate yells.

“Don’t shout!” Mom says. “Y/N, are you okay with the seating arrangement?”

I look at Nate who’s scowling at Chris. His eyes shift to me. “Yeah.” I say softly.

Nate’s eyes soften and he looks at me with confusion. He stays silent as he turns back to face forward.

“Alright, let’s get going.” Mom says.

TAGS: (tell em if you want added or removed please) @urfavpouge @savageking3 @tastesousweet @jko3005 @sturniolo0ntop @dwalk41202 @stvrnise @iloveneilperry @luvmxtt @blueeyedbesson @iloveurgf @mattswifr @that-chris-girl01 @sturniolhoe @remussbitch @chrisstankyleg @jetaimevous @bernardenjoyer @sturniolosreads @mbbsgf @xxsadlovexx @whicked-hazlatwhore @sturnsgirl @keira324 @stuniolobbg @timmyscomputer @meg-sturniolo @sturnioloenthusiast @nickdevora @hearts4chriss @carolinalikesthings @mattscokewhore @tillies33ssss @junnniiieee07 @freshloveforthefit

[dreambunnynotes]

weekly note: december 10th

hello angels! i hope you're all taking good care of yourselves and having a lovely day. i'm excited for the week ahead, i'm going to try to go easy on myself this week while still making progress in order to build up better discipline! here are my goals for the week.

appearance and physical health:

find a way to romanticize an early sleep schedule to trick my brain into actually wanting to go to bed, oof. i'm going to try to make a post on this in case it helps anyone else out!

go to the gym at least once, and fight the perfectionist urge that says "if i miss it on monday or tuesday i shouldn't go at all" - i'll go when i have the energy and ability to!

drink way more water; girl the amount of crying i did this week it feels like i have to drink an ocean a day to catch up 😭 going to try to keep a water bottle by my desk and keep track of my water intake somehow.

studying and career:

figure out what i need to do to apply to the program and make a plan, including looking into bank loans and financial planning

work on sheet music arrangement for current song on guitar

get comfortable with all major scales, focusing on accuracy

look into what my favourite musicians studied so that i can make a more specific practice routine and remove barriers to practicing

mental and emotional health:

listen to what my heart needs! this past week i had some incredibly hard conversations that were very triggering and emotionally draining, and i can feel my little heart and mind are needing extra emotional rest right now. i am going to make sure i am connecting with people who bring me joy and not forcing myself to talk to people i don't want to talk to. i'm going to channel the sweet and caring energy of my departed best friend who taught me how to listen to my boundaries, and try to honour myself the way he did.

if i am feeling up to it, i am going to visit one of my friends who is in town for a show who i haven't seen in forever!

lets have a great week, friends!

with love, bunny❤︎

[beanghostprincess]

Been thinking about teenage Shuggy for some godforsaken reason trying to hide that they are dating from the rest of the crew. Maybe they are still shy about this entire thing, maybe they are afraid their crew dynamic will become “weird”, maybe they are just daft teen boys who think they can keep a secret like this for longer than a week and feel slick doing so. Crocus knocks on the door and all he hears is a muffled thud and an “oof”, before he opens the door to Buggy trying to look like he’s laying casually in his hammock and Shanks under said hammock, also trying to look casual as he blinks away tears of Pain. “Hi Crocus!” “Hello….” “… I was reading.” “And I was listening to him read!” And Crocus just rolls his eyes and tells them they are needed on deck in twenty minutes. He doesn’t have the energy to deal with teenagers anymore. After every successful raid the crew knows these two will suddenly disappear for about half an hour, before one of them comes back visibly more flushed and mussed up and the other one conveniently follows suit just about five minutes later. Shanks thinks he’s being sooooo smooth when he sends a flying kiss towards Buggy when nobody’s looking, only for Buggy to huff and flip him off before just making the tiniest heart hand motion back at him. Meanwhile Rayleigh and Roger are just looking at their dumbass boys from the forecastle “… should we tell our sons we know that they are an item?” “Aaaaah. Let those brats have their fun thinking they are getting away with something… the look on their faces when they tell us and we tell them we already know is going to be priceless anyways.”

This is actually my favorite flavor of Shuggy!!!!!! Teenage Shuggy hiding their relationship because they're just stupid like that and genuinely think they can pull that off without being caught is the funniest but sweetest thing ever. I think they just wouldn't be ready to tell the others because it's embarrassing. Because they're the only kids and the rest of them are, well, it's either the men that raised them or adults, and of course, they are not telling them they are dating. They wouldn't understand. The only situation they're possibly confessing this is if they've had a huge fight and need advice from Rayleigh and they genuinely don't think he knows, but everybody knows, because they're not subtle.

Teenage Shuggy is so funny and cute to me because they'd try to sneak out to make out and often get caught because there is no way they can do this quietly. They're always arguing even when they're being romantic. Shanks is too obvious and is too much into PDA not to get noticed. And Buggy gets unbelievably angry and possessive when a girl talks to Shanks on whatever island they're at. Shanks is always too close and they always end up sleeping on the same bed, so of course everybody notices.

But as I said I think they'd have one of their fights but this time is one of the bad ones, and Shanks goes to Rayleigh for advice. And he "confesses" he's been dating Buggy and makes him promise he won't tell anybody. And Rayleigh is like "yeah, kid, I won't tell anybody. You keep the secret so well. I had no idea" / "Really???? :D" / "No. You two suck at keeping secrets and everybody knows and maybe the reason why you fight so much is because you're always on and off. Maybe try to be normal teenagers for once, huh?".

Of course, Buggy finds out and thinks Shanks told everyone and gets even angrier BUT at least after that fight they don't hide anymore. But they still suck at trying to sneak out to be on their own.

[honeyhotteoks]

oh my god yesssss the most recent chapter of tnt had my tongue pressed to my teeth the entire time i was like entralllllledddd PLEASE !!!

not to be nosy (or pushy ><) but do you have any thoughts about rut for tnt? like for both the main trio and general world building im sure it would be a lot of logistics and potentially a lot of emotional labor to plot out (like one of them getting kicked out or something because the other is going nuts oof) but also its rotting my brain from the inside out and i need to tell someone else about it x_x

like for yunho, who is typically warm and affable, is now pushed to the edge when faced with the reality of his near insurmountable want. like he has such a finely controlled and cool grip on himself but its so obvious that hes like hungry for it in the force behind his grip. just imagining him like being an ever-present pillar behind mc, firmly talking her through what hes going to do as he chases after whatever his brain comes up with, that she can and will take his pace and whatever he gives because shes just the best and he just loves her so much because hes a romantic like that. yeah hehe haha hoo hoo lol maybe even an lmao im also tipsy and slamming my head into a wall over him have a good night

!! oh what a great question! but thank you for saying you loved the new chapter as well 💘

as far as yunho and mingi in a rut................ click below the cut for a few thoughts....

the lovely part about being in a pack, especially later on when they're actually bonded..... is that ruts wouldn't necessarily send the non-rutting alpha out of the house. with that being the case..... these are some of my rut headcanons for the boys.

yunho in a rut is possessive, protective and has a serious jealous streak. in the week leading up to his rut his hands are constantly on you, squeezing your hips, brushing along your back, and taking your hand in his. the only person that seems to be able to talk to you without him going just a little feral is mingi, even wooyoung isn't safe from his ire when he gives you a hug after practice. when his rut actually starts though, his resolve really starts to crumble, and you don't help him stay in control when you're begging him for a knot underneath him. he tries his best at first to be mindful of you, but he also knows that's what mingi is here for. he's watching over so that you can both lose yourself, and when yunho finally lets go it's with a bruising grip and his cock endlessly inside you. you stay stretched on his knot for days, his cum spilling into you over and over again, promises of pups on yunho's lips.

mingi in a rut is needy, times a thousand, but it doesn't start that way. it starts with him fussing over you in the week or so leading up to his rut in a way that you just know what's in store for you. he's cooking, he's refilling your water, he's trying to get you to sleep more, eat more, relax more. he's following you around constantly and subconsciously in an effort to prepare you for the week to come. ruts can be hard on omegas not in heat, and he knows this, so of course he's going to make sure you're as healthy and hydrated as possible before getting locked in bed. once it hits? he's a grabby mess, he needs every inch of his pack's skin against his. he wants yunho holding you open for him so he can see you both, feel you both. he kisses like its the last time he'll ever get to, and he alternates between coming deep inside you with a knot and painting your skin with rope after rope of his cum. he needs to see you covered by him, full of him, and fully owned by him for his rut to break.

[indigos-stardust]

Violet, Blue, And Bruised All Over: Long Talks part 2

Part 1/ Part 2/ Part 3/ Part 4/ Part 5/ Part 6/ Part 6 2/3

Sorry for the hiatus lol, Vio and greens Convo is next part, should be fun, Comments and reblogs appreciated!! I wanna hear y'all's thoughts!

"Green was right about those too being similar. But it wasn't just cuz they were so stubborn. More like they were both weirdos that had a vendetta against sleep. Seriously, would it kill Blue to sleep in for five more minutes..."

Blue unlocks the gate to the training yards, practically yanking the key out before he shoved his way into the door. Yep, there it was. Blue, folks. Mr. King of Emotional Repression. Red couldn't help but roll his eyes. Sure, he was kinda bullying Blue right now, but it was only in his head! And it wasn't his fault Blue dragged him out here before the Hylias light could even grace the sky.

Blue just kept moving like some stocky stiff machine, aggressively setting up the training dummies. Oh no- That layout and choice of training dummies and lack of shields meant he wanted to be competitive. Usually Green was there to rise to the challenge in those "everyone's the enemy and lets see who'll score more points because I actually feel angry at the world but I don't know how to talk about it cuz I'm Blue!" duel things. But today, it was only Red. Hell no.

Ok, all he had to do with turn up the charm! Just cuz there wasn't any sun didn't mean he couldn't shine bright enough to make up for it! Probably.

Red's plan was to softly put his hand on Blue's shoulder, start with that emotional support you know, but then Blue immediately stiffening and clenched his entire body so hard before he'd even grazed his fingers against him. Oh this was bad.

"Hey Blue?"

Blue grip on the wooden training swords was so tight his knuckles were white. If he breaks another one he'll get splinters again.

Time to turn up the charm, "Blue? Hey! Why are you being a grumpy silly head??"

He tried to really bring some light soft teasing into it, with wide open eyes and a non judgemental silence aaaannnnd-

Blue turned around with the most pathetic look he'd ever seen Blue wear in his entire life! Or well, since they became four people anyways- Is that what I look li- NO PAY ATTENTION TO BLUE.

He looks like a toddler trying desperately to NOT bawl his eyes out! Face all scrunched up, eyes unsure, and a wobbling uncertainty. He was obviously trying to look mad, but the way his furrowed brows and eye kept twitching it was clear he couldn't hold on to Red's all consuming gentleness.

All at once Blue yelled an ugly curse and kicked into the weapons rack. Red had to flinch back to avoid the whiplash.

"UEGH! Don't you get it?! Of course IM NOT FREAKING OKAY?!!"

Hook, line, and sinker.

"WHY IS IT THAT WHENVER SOMETHING BAD HAPPENS ITS ALL MY FAULT?! OH ILL TELL YOU WHY, ITS CUZ IM THE BAD GUY RIGHT?! RIGHT?!!"

Oof, and there it is. Raw and true, and oh so Blue. Red had been tempted to zone out on Blue's rant's since they could get.. slightly lengthy, but he still needed to pay attention. Cuz buried under all those sharp cold layers was something very raw and in pain. Lashing out like a cornered animal. Oh Blue...

Blue kept stomping and huffing as he went on, hands clenching and grasping as thought he was trying to strangle an enemy that wasn't there. Stomping feet leaving little clouds of dust in his wake as he went back and forth.

"I'm NOT some kid!"

" HE'S THE ONE WHO-"

"I didn't even DO ANYTHING?!"

"I trIeD to DEAL with the NERD but NoOOOOo I'm THE BAD GUY-"

"Teaching him a lesson and THEN GREEN-"

One after one, a dam broken, the hot waters gushing out with a force so great it'd overwhelm and push away anyone who tried to stop it. But Red didn't try to stop it. He let it pass around him as he observed. He was ok, and Blue would be ok too.

He loved Blue.

"And- AND- He- I JUST- AUGH!"

Suddenly, Blue stops in his tracks. Flustered, red and sweating, feet together like some shy and embarrassed kid. He's got a grip on his own arm, shoulders hunched, like he's trying to keep himself together. A look of frightened shock overcomes him, as though he's only just now realized where he is.

Red just keeps sitting on the bench though, head tilted, mind open. Puppy vibes c'mon. He watches Blue crumble inside, a deep sigh overcoming him.

"And I-"

"Yeah?"

"I just-"

Red quietly smiles, and pats the spot beside him. Before he knows it, Blue has already plopped beside him, exhausted without even picking up a sword.

"I just don't get it."

"Whaddya mean?"

Blue fists grip his knees tighter. "Why he was even so mad..."

"Green?"

"N-No, I... I deserved that. ONLY a little bit though I-"

Red incredulously raised a single eyebrow.

"AUGH! Ok fine! I deserved it a lot! Is that what you want?? To rub it in more?!"

Red blew a strand of hair out from Infront his nose. He seemed so disinterested at first, but then, like the flick of a finger, a mischievous little smirk grew.

"AWH, Blue!! I didn't know you thought of me so highly!" he beamed.

Blue couldn't have looked more unimpressed if he tried.

Red couldn't help but a giggle a little bit before he softed.

Blue sighed and mumbled remorseful, "Didn't mean to stress you out I just.."

Blue paused, watching the light join the horizon. His whole mood just reminded Red of a damp campfire. Or maybe a wet cat? One of the two for sure. Red couldn't help the surge of love and pride, Blue really had gotten SO much better at talking about his feelings! Blue worked so hard on it, Blue was amazing.

Red pressed up against his side and slipped his hand over Blue's.

Blue finally broke, "I just can't figure out how I messed up so bad- Vio- I know he doesn't like me, I get why I just- What did I do to make HIM outta all people get so... mad? at me?"

Oh. Red got it now.

"He never gets like that, that's what I do! And- I just don't get how I messed up that bad?!"

Red frowned, thoughtful, "Well, what happened before you guys started fighting and stuff?"

Blue grimaced, "I was just.. Telling him to do the laundry for once- Wasn't even telling him to do it correctly this time either!"

Red mentally facepalmed, but schooled his expression. This was like when he almost got into a fight with the radish seller guy isn't it?

"Blue," Red started quietly, "Do you remember how you asked him to do the laundry?"

Blue froze, stupefied, like he'd never considered in all his history that that could do anything with what happened. Probably because he hadn't. Blue was, extremely, tone deaf.

"I uh, joked about it? I mean- I he mentioned me like- being all frozen and stuff like a jerk! I was trying to "lighten stuff up like you said I should!"

Oh for Faron's fate-

"Blue," Red deadpanned, " Tell me exactly what you said. And what you guys were talking about BEFORE that. "

The absolute clueless, oblivious, and unaware look that screamed "thoughtless gerbil in a field with hawks" was. So painful to watch.

"Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh... Well uhhh Vio was kinda like. Being a btch?"

Red somehow managed to resist the urge to slam his skull into the brick wall behind them.

"Blue."

Blue, in question defensively puffed up like some startled baby kitten, " Hey! I- I'm telling the story and its the truth! It's not just me being mean about it! And- I won't even swear again ok! Don't tell Green- Please-"

Red silently stared into Blue's soul for half a minute. Din give me strength- "Okay."

Blue straightened up, like he was talking to some higher ranking knight, confident and steady. Or as confident and steady as you could be when you had baby rabbit ears that flicked and burned crimson with shame.

"He- He thinks that he's better than everyone else, you KNOW how big his head is-"

"Bigger than yours, Blue?"

"H-hey n- No! ANYWAYS, he was being all judgmental and crap!"

"Uh huh?"

" And- And all 'oHHOoOHH IM ~ViO~ And I'm- I'm smart and you're stupid! 'AND THEN- Get this! He goes all, freaking 'You don't care and you're hearts frozen HAHAHAh'-"

" Really, Blue? Really?"

"Oh come on! You know he's got that weird like- Theater kid laugh?? Like he learned it from that Shadow or something I dunno- Weird little sorta- kinda maniac-"

"Blue."

"Geez OK! Fine!," Blue relented, " Ok maybe he didn't laugh, but he did say like- my- My heart might as well still be frozen and-" Blue choked off.

"Oh. That's.... pretty messed up."

"Yeah. And- I've been thinking at least I have a heart..." Blue concluded grimly.

"Well there's more to it than that right?" Red prodded.

"Well! I tried to- Ya know, make it into a joke or whatever- And told him that oh hey! Maybe, maybe HE broke his brain like how the mirror was all smashed! Like- A you're making fun of me so I'm making fun of you joke-"

Blue made airquotes, "Banter, or whatever," he shrugged.

Was this how Green felt? Like several of his veins were just going to pop? Like he just wanted to lay on the ground and cry? And just eat a bunch of cupcakes and hide in his plushie pile? Okay, that last part was definitely mostly Red, but still! Blue was. The whole fight thing was... Yeah, yeah this just meant Red was right. They were being all emotional while trying to not be all emotional. That plan NEVER works! Stupid idiots. Big ol' dummies. His brothers.

"Blue, you know he's like... Sensitive about what happened in the tower of winds right??"

"He's what?"

"BLUE! He- He never talks about it! He gets all weird when WE talk about it! He- He goes off all quiet to "sort out his thoughts" or whatever! He doesn't go off and get all angry like you do!! He- He acts all mature and stoic and stuff!!"

"Oh."

"Bluuueee!!"

"Wait. Wait- So he actually- Wait are you saying I HURT his- his little twinky feelings??"

"BLUE!"

"What! I didn't know he cared about stuff!"

"You didn't think he had feelings??!!"

"N- I mean- Maybe- Have you met the guy?"

"BLUE WE USED TO BE THE SAME PERSON HOW ARE YOU SO-"

"...."

Red groaned, "Sorry Blue..."

"So Vio was right then huh?"

"H-huh?"

"I'm, I am kinda stupid huh?"

"Heh, well... hm... maybe jus' a lil bit.."

"He's still a jerk though."

"Ok, but now you guys can apologize?"

"..."

"BLUE-"

[dullgecko]

Sometimes I imagine what senior prom would be like for the bad kids, and especially Riz. I think at that point everyone one else might not be dating somebody, but they have someone to go with. Maybe Oisin asks adaine, gorgug probably has a comedy or errors trying to figure which of the many ppl he's hooked up with at this point he should go with. Kristen and tracker, ayda and fig, fabain and mazey. Riz, being vice president, probably had a hand in some of the planning and setting up, but eventually day of, the bad kids realize that he wasn't actually planning on going. That or he was just gonna see the beginning to make sure it ran smooth and then go home.

When I feel particularly angsty, it think all of the parents came to chaperone, especially cause so many work at the school. And that includes his mom and gorthalax. So after a song or two he sneaks out and goes to the cemetary to talk with his dad. Eventually after a while he gets kinda emotional and very frank and talks about whether or not this is what the rest of his life will look like. Being alone while everyone else gets partnered off. After he leaves, his dad gets worried about his mental state and sends down an angelic companion/familiar for him. So the next morning they all get woken up, hungover as hell, to riz sending pictures and Eventually coming around with the companion animal.

When I'm less angsty, I think jawbone invites him to play fantasy dnd with him, Lydia, and Lynn for the night. Eventually he starts dming, and finally has a non work hobby.

Sorry about the long one, I have no one else to send this too

No I love it but oof my heart TT_TT

For the sad one -

The worst part about it is his friends didn't notice he left. Noone came to find him (he literally went to one of his top-three places people should look if he disappears and wasn't making himself hard to find and he was there for a long time). He also probably would have come back if someone called asking where he went. They were too busy having fun with their partners at the prom while he was alone, partnerless, and it just hits him all at once that 'yeah im less important to them than their romance lives... this is fine... im ok (he's not)'. His dad is frantically filling out paperwork while Riz has a breakdown because ah fuck my kid needs a therapy animal.

For the less sad one -

You know he would get so into it. The only problem is any campaign he makes he has to plot out every. single. thing. his PC's could do and ends up obsessing over it to the point of loosing sleep.

[yandere-plague]

Any version your comfortable with thank you

All of them at once- jk

// mentions of drugging/spiking , kidnapping

takes place sometime during borderlands 3

without spoiling much, I leave it up to you as what your 'previous' job was.

"Huh, never thought this ship would have a bar." In hindsight that would be obvious. But for one in space? Definitely not.

Everyone calls it Moxxi's nightclub, though its more of a bar than anything else. Can you really call it a nightclub if your always in space?

Sanctuary III, the home of the Crimson Raiders. Where legendary people are formed to hunt vaults. Though you know that already.

The room gave off a radiant pink, a splash of colour from the rest of the ship. And in the middle stood who you assumed to be the woman herself, Mad Moxxi.

"Well hey Sugar. Dont think I've seen you around here." Her voice sounds like honey, a mix of courteousness and flirtiness enough to give some drunk people the wrong idea.

"Just came from Promethea actually."

"Promethea? Hope the corpo war hasn't been to hard on ya."

"Eh I'm doing alright. They raised the rent at my apartment because Atlas needed to get everyone out of the city. I don't blame him but. To be honest most of us have nowhere to go."

This became a regular occurance, after your job on Promethea you head to Moxxi's for a quick drink or a bite to eat before heading to your dorm.

[A few months later]

"Hey Moxxi, guess who finally managed to get enough funds to live back on Promethea!"

You ran into the bar, giddy with excitement.

"Aww, really? I'm going to miss you sugar."

Her makeup never changed since you first met. Still wearing the ruined mascara, intentional or not.

"Dont worry Mox. I'll visit you!" You chucked.

How about one last drink? On the house~"

She smiled, she always wanted to give you free drinks. But every time you denied her.

'Well. I- why not?" You shrug.

Looking around you notice that nobody else is around.

"You closing up early? Wait, what time is it?"

"Well after closing time, but I decided to let you in." She said while trying to get rid of a damn stain on her dress.

"Shit. Sorry-"

"Dont be, now bottoms up sugar~"

She poured the drink up to your lips. It felt kind of awkward but you went along with it for now.

It tasted familiar, like her finest blend but a little bit saltier? Maybe you're just imagining things.

"Thanks." She put it down after.

"Need some help back there? Like tidying up or something?"

"You're too kind~, mind checking the tables for any leftover drinks or anything. I say people just leave their drinks like its nothing." She sighed.

"Sure thing."

You stand up, almost wobbling a bit. Did she give you an extra strong version or something?

You look at every table, they all seem to be clear. Apart from one of the booths at the back, a few glasses lay there.

You pick them up and head back to her. Placing them on the table.

"Thanks doll."

"Oof. Yeah. I think im going to go now. I'm beat." You sit back down on one of the stools, placing a hand on your forehead.

"Jeez, how strong is this stuff?"

"Its a special blend."

"It sure is..."

"Oh sugar~, can't keep you're head on straight can you?"

The world around you slipped, as you fell on the floor.

"Dont worry. Momma Moxxi will take very good care of you. Just sleep. Kitten..."

You revealed Moxxi's true voice, a sickening sap that once she gets you into her clutches, she's never letting you go...

(I actually have the moxxi finest blend bottle. But I've never drank alcohol before and I don't think that whiskey is a good thing to try first 😅)

I AM SO SORRY FOR MAKING THIS TAKE SO LONG. I was busy with college and then tumblr decided to not let me edit for some reason. I'm personally not impressed with what I've written :/ I

[xticklemeemox]

The Love You Want: III, Part Eighteen

Word count: 18,484

fun fact this would have been uhhhh 27,424 if i didnt cut out like three scenes and the smut that's probably happening next chapter (probably. we'll see.)

notice anything weird or a half finished sentence, PLEASE let me know and i will go to fix it as soon as i can. long chapters are hard to keep organized and edit ;-; I also don't really read back through the whole thing so i miss typos and inconsistencies sometimes.

Ao3

Masterlist

Previous Chapter

The vessels leave with Terzo and Omega the next morning, the Papa offering to drive them home. Vessel silently frets that it will be out of the way for them, but II accepts the offer easily enough. Omega stuffs his large frame into the driver's seat, Terzo slipping on a pair of sunglasses as he rolls his eyes and urges Cardinal Copia to return back to the main branch and inform Sister Imperator that, and Vessel quotes, "We'll be home within a day or so, she needs to untwist her undergarments and remove the stick from her ass."

III laughs into a closed fist when Copia flounders for a response, only quieting when II jabs him in the side, letting out a harsh 'oof!'.

Cetus, Nova, and Orion all see them off, all six of them, vessel and ghoul, masked. Orion remains a bit away, sparing only a sharp nod in Vessel's direction as they leave. Somehow, Vessel feels as if they've become acquaintances, at least, though he's sure Orion must still greatly dislike him. Vessel waves, a little meek, but trying to carry himself with the decorum Terzo seems to think he is capable of. Nova jabs Orion in the side, and he reluctantly waves back. Vessel smiles underneath his mask, then, leaning onto III where they're all shoved into the backseat, Vessel behind Omega, then III, and finally II behind Terzo. II had tried to sit in the middle, but Vessel had quickly moved to one corner so as to avoid touching II more than Vessel deemed allowed.

Their belongings are all shoved into the trunk, though they had little with them to begin with. Their clothes had long since been worn and traded out for spares, only for those to have needed washed and switched out for their original outfits. Cetus had seen to their washing, never once complaining or accepting the help Vessel quietly offered every time. It had been just another kindness afforded to them.

The car speakers play ABBA's discography at a moderately acceptable level the entire drive, Terzo and Omega both faintly humming along. II perks up when Voulez-Vous begins playing as they roll onto the gravel driveway of the Ministry branch, tapping out the beat on his thigh with one hand and holding III's hand with the other. It isn't long into the drive before II falls asleep, Slipping Through My Fingers being sung quietly by Terzo from the front seat. Vessel wants to ask him about the music Ghost makes, and resolves to pose the question to III at some point, leaning his head onto the blonde's shoulder. It's a bit of an uncomfortable stretch for his neck, but Vessel doesn't mind, not when III hums the songs into his hair between gentle kisses, more of a pressing of fabric to soft strands than actual kisses. Vessel sinks into the heady warmth of affection III's attention causes, gently pushing his love down the bond so as to not wake II by drowning him with it. The drive is long, and its glaringly obvious it's out of the way as the hours pass by and Omega asks for directions more and more, as things become unfamiliar to him.

With time, II's sleeping form starts sliding down, the movement bringing a spark of pain to the bond. It wakes him up, once or twice, sleepy eyes a bit unfocused from exhaustion. When Omega stops to get gas, III and II switch places. Even as a fully grown man, despite his shorter than average stature, II manages to curl up in the backseat with some difficulty, feet and legs bunched up on III's lap while his head and some of his torso are in Vessel's. Slipping off his hoodie is done without much thought, folding it up for II to use as a pillow. He falls asleep again before Omega gets back into the car, Terzo watching through the rearview mirror with fondness hidden beneath his sunglasses. Gnawing at his lip nervously, fearing for his secret or fearing II's closeness after Vessel hurt him, he rests an arm around II's frame, thumb stroking over a palm as he holds II's hand. III snapping a picture from the opposite end of the car goes unnoticed, one hand moving back to hold II's ankle.

The trees part for the Ministry car at Vessel's will, but they don't get far onto the dirt road before Omega is forced to stop. The rotting stag stands at the side of the road, large frame stagnant and head tilted curiously. Vessel rolls down the window, motioning the stag forward. Sleep's presence can be felt faintly, curiously poking at the edges of their awareness as if to make sure they're all alright. He doesn't speak, magic feeling sluggish and faint, but relieved perhaps, guilty if Vessel dared to think about it any further.

"It's here again!" III whispers, leaning over II slightly to get a better view of the stag.

"Mm. I don't think it likes visitors, or for us to leave for long periods." Vessel replies softly, letting the stag sniff at his fingers.

He must smell different after so long in another God's domain, not to mention he is still glamored. The stag reaches down to nibble at a coin on his necklace, antlers keeping it from moving it's head too far into the car. Sensing what it wants, Vessel glances up towards the front seat before slipping his necklace off. His mask is still on, thankfully, but the rest of him can be seen. Pitch black arms, golden cracks almost like veins, marred only by grey scarring just a few shades lighter than the black of his skin, the ink reaching up towards his shoulder where hints of an apple tree's blossoms peek over. He truly looks like a vessel for a God, Sleep's marks seen by so few.

The red sigil on the hollow of his throat, bared by the stretched out collar of his t-shirt, is in full view. Secretly, III longs to reach out and run a thumb over it, to see how Vessel reacts. II shuffles, beginning to wake, and III focuses on very quietly informing him of the situation as he sits up carefully. Whether knowing or unknowingly, he takes Vessel's hoodie with him, face half buried into the soft material, breathing in deeply with sleepiness like a loose net over the bond. He slumps over into III, wincing at the movement but uncaring so long as he can cuddle up to his lover. For the time being, II is uncaring of the displays of affection. It is only the vessels here, well, and Omega and Terzo. II doesn't think they would say anything rude though, observant eyes and a keen mind putting things together not long after he'd awoken from his long rest. One day, II hopes they can love each other freely.

The stag - and they really should come up with a name for it - turns it's head to level an empty stare at Omega, stomping it's foot and dragging it across the ground. Vessel knows what it wants immediately. He looks between the stag and Omega, nervously weighing his options. Ultimately, he decides to just ask. Omega can always just... tell him no, right? He thinks that would be II's opinion on the matter.

"Your glamor, Omega... the stag needs to see you as you truly are." Vessel speaks up, voice breaking with his nerves, only one pair of eyes blinks, the others closed more out of uncertainty than anything else.

Omega turns to share a loaded look with Terzo before the Papa gives the go-ahead, quiet and encouraging, "You can remove your mask, and let your glamor go. This is nowhere near the ministry."

Omega's voice is a low rumble, a trace of fear, of hesitancy within, "Are you sure, Papa? I will not be the only one affected should Sister Imperator find out about... well, any of this. About us. She hates you and we both have rules we must follow."

"Sister Imperator is not here, my dear, there is no one who knows her, nor will tell her if we asked them not to, right boys?" Terzo's voice is loving, metaphorical mask slipping off easily once he receives a quiet chorus of agreements.

Taking a moment to contemplate, Omega eventually reaches one hand up to slip his mask off his face, simultaneously letting his glamor fall away in a soft shower of glittering purple magic. He hunches over further so the sharp point of his horns, that start at his skull and begin sweeping back before jutting up into points aimed at the heavens, do not tear into the fabric over the ceiling of the car. After a moment, they disappear again out of necessity, but the way the rich purple color, almost as dark as his hair, had glittered with tiny amethyst-like cracks and sparkles, was captivating. His skin was a cloudy grey color, and where a human would be colored pink with a blush or naturally warmer tones, his skin was a murky purple, as though fading berry stains lay upon his flesh.

He was a magnificent creature, something clearly God-made as the vessels were, but with Lucifer as his maker. There were similarities, though, like the black sclera and, painted claws that were more impressive than Vessel's own.

"There you are, my love." Terzo murmurs, open affection being shown as he takes the dull silver mask from Omega's hands, setting it in his own lap.

Omega's tail slowly slithers through the air to wrap over the top of Terzo's thigh in lieu of an answer, resting there, spade end flicking now and again in a very cat-like manner. It makes Vessel miss Elvira, greatly. He cannot wait to be home, to see her.

Turning away from them to give them some amount of privacy, Vessel sets his attention back onto the stag.

"Have things been well while we were gone?" Vessel asks quietly, the stag snorting in response, air leaving the bones as if it were a creature not rotted beyond being able to perform that action.

"I choose to be optimistic and consider that a yes!" III chirps, smiling as they reach a long arm out.

The stag sticks its large snout into the car window as far as it can go, rubbing hard bone against soft flesh, III's smile contagious. He goes back to leaning against the car seat, patting the side of the stag's jaw once in farewell. The harsh scraping of antler against the metal of the car's exterior was not easy on their sensitive ears, after all.

"Drive slow, but don't linger in one place too long. It doesn't trust you and I don't think your Sister Imperator would be pleased if this car ends up with a dent." Vessel suggests, petting the stag's hard snout one last time, letting his hand fall back into his lap.

Terzo laughs, Omega huffing lowly as the stag backs away a few feet. Vessel tilts his head just slightly, confused. He hadn't been trying to tell a joke.

When Omega slowly begins driving again, the stag follows beside the car, easily keeping up. Terzo watches the stag curiously, turned in his seat to observe it, unbothered by the gore. He glances in the rearview mirror at Vessel every once in a while as if comparing them, sunglasses pushed up into his hair and exposing green and white eyes.

Omega stops the car not far from the house, letting the vessels get out and grab their meager belongings from the trunk.

"Would you two like to come in?" II offers, slightly breathless from the ache in his side, breathing in deeply and feeling the twinge of Sleep's - and Vessel's - presence in the air, their magic strong and ingrained into every inch of this forest.

"No, not this time, Two. Perhaps another time, when your God is not so eager to reunite with you and you're not injured. Go inside, rest, heal." Terzo declines, smile kind.

II nods, accepting the answer for what it is. Terzo reaches a hand out in offering, and II stares at it in confusion, exhausted brain lagging behind. After a moment, something seems to click and he reaches out to take Terzo's hand. He starts to shake it, but Terzo merely places his own hand overtop of II's, patting gently, a fatherly motion.

"May the Eye of the Evil One shine upon you." Terzo utters, something other in his voice as his eye glows.

II would compare it to wishing Sleep's own gaze be cast upon someone with good intentions in mind, a warmth settling at the base of his neck. Terzo releases II's hand and then beckons III forward, who is grinning.

"Three, my boy, I hope your time spent learning our ways was fruitful."

"It was, Terzo! It was a pleasure to meet you properly, despite the situation. Your religion is so interesting and rich in history. I've never had the chance to see the opposing viewpoint before. Not to mention all the different botanical and floriculture books stored there! I've learned of so many new flower species I'd never heard of before!"

"I'm glad it was a learning experience for you. If I come across any botany books, I will send them your way, if possible. My eldest brother Primo has always had a similar fascination. You and he would get along well." III is nodding eagerly, a teethy smile pulling uncomfortably at their cheeks.

"I would love that. Thank you! For everything, really."

Terzo repeats the prayer he said for II, and III's smile widens impossibly at the warmth traveling down his spine, an unfamiliar heat, "We don't really have any prayers or phrases. But... hm, worship. We all worship."

Terzo's grin matches the liveliness in III's eyes, "You're right, my boy, we both worship though our gods differ."

III pulls Terzo into a hug, tall frame leaned over into the car and wrapped around Terzo's similar build. From over III's shoulder, Terzo watches Vessel, brow furrowing as if in thought. Vessel wonders if he has noticed how Vessel never hugs his lovers. He hopes he doesn't ask.

When III pulls away, heading back to II's side and taking their bags from his capable but shaking hands, Terzo beckons Vessel forward. Afraid he is going to be pulled into a hug in front of his partners, Vessel goes slowly, unsure. Terzo only smiles encouragingly, a gloved hand taking Vessel's own. "You have come far from your rebirth, haven't you, Vessel? I'm proud of you for growing beyond the rot, for letting fragile life bloom within. You are a good man, as I've said, and in time, you will find that which you have sought, and it will be eternal."

Vessel's crimson eyes widen behind his mask, all six welling up with tears. Terzo seems so assured that Vessel will be happy ifgiven time for him to grow further.His selfish desire is to attain happiness, to keep it for eternity. To hoard the love granted to him like a possessive dragon with it's amassment of treasures, shove it into the empty cavity of his chest as a replacement for what he gave away to attain it. He's so tired of denying himself these things that he desires, and tired of watering the seeds of hope that his lovers have sown within him with gentle hands and kinder words.

He cannot deny that he has... changed, grown, since II's arrival, then III's. Sometimes, he doesn't recognize himself in the mirror when he can bring himself to gaze into it. Sleep has changed him, and he has changed himself further for the sake of his lovers, but his evolution is more than just physical. Vessel has always been afraid. To fear is such a human thing. Everyone is afraid. Though, with time, with their love, Vessel is finding some things to be less terrifying. For every step forward, it often feels like outside forces and his own mind drag him two steps back. But he is trying, he is trying so hard. He wants to be worthy of the love he receives.

"You are so kind to me, when I have done nothing to deserve it." Vessel whispers, blushing up to his ears when one pair of eyes glances over to find Omega smiling at him with no small amount of fondness.

What has he done to deserve these people smiling upon him so kindly? What has he ever done to deserve all of this? Not just this kindness, but II and III's? What did he do to deserve his God choosing him out of the entirety of the human race to be His First Vessel? He feels so unworthy of it all, but is too selfish to let any of it go.

"Kindness is a gift given regardless of merit. If I want to be kind to someone, then I will be. You do not need to be worthy of something like that, Vessel. It is okay to just give and receive kindness. The world is not an entirely cruel place. The worst people just so happen to have the loudest voices or the most money. You'll try to take this advice to heart, yes?" Terzo implores, careful of Vessel's claws as he still holds his hands.

The surge of emotions over the bond was unexpected, a rush of respect, of affection. Terzo reminds Vessel of what a father figure should be like. He doesn't know what to do with that realization. All he knows is that he wants to soak up the feeling like a sponge, bask in what he knows he was rarely given by his own parents. They did not respect him, barely even paid him any mind lest it was to make sure he stayed trapped in that house like a prisoner. The only thing they ever gave him was music, the ability to understand it, play it, to sing to his fullest potential. He thinks that gift was due to how it kept him at home when he wasn't being taught by differing instrumental teachers, absorbed in this new world music offered him. His parents were never proud of him, but it felt like the closest thing to it and so Vessel had grasped onto their not-approval tight with bloody, callousing fingers and a heart made for music.

It's a cluster of good memories Sleep brought to the surface after being remade, to rekindle his love for music, since their worship was music based.

"Yes, sir. I will." Vessel agrees, willing to try, if only so he can feel this rush again.

"Good, my boy." Terzo smiles, squeezing Vessel's hands with gentleness that has only ever been afforded to him by II and III.

When he repeats the same prayer of Lucifer's blessing unto Vessel, he tries his best to murmur along, following III's lead and adding on his own, "Worship."

The word feels weighted, almost like a proper prayer. A touch of Sleep lies within it, and Vessel thinks it could very well become a prayer for the vessels. What matters is intent, anyways. The surprisingly tender moment comes and goes with the passing of time, and soon enough, Terzo is seated properly in the car again, one hand wrapped tightly in Omega's. Vessel's hands have the faintest tingle of warmth, likely his mind tricking him into thinking some of Terzo's heat seeped through his gloves into Vessel's cold flesh again.

"Thank you for trusting us with your true self, Omega. I know it was not an easy decision." Vessel stresses, reaching up and removing his own mask with a bit of thought and a splash of magic.

Six eyes blink unsurely, fearing that even to a creature of Hell he is ugly, but Omega merely reiterates the sentiment back at Vessel with nothing but kindness and acceptance. A mimicry of warmth settles into Vessel's bones, spreading through him like heat from an open fire, settling there in the empty cavity of his chest. He smiles, vision going a little fuzzy as his bottom eyes scrunch with the movement of his cheeks. His empty chest, filled with vines and thorns left behind by those who hurt him, feels a little less heavy, like some of the vines have been clipped or rotted away. No, maybe not the vines themselves, but the thorns attached that have dug in, sliced him up from the inside out for as long as Vessel can remember.

Soon enough, Omega is pulling away when II waves them off with a heartfelt thank you and instructions not to stop until they're out of the territory. Terzo calls out through the open window as they drive off, instructing Vessel to keep in touch, slipping his sunglasses back over his eyes leisurely. His skull paint remains immaculate, head tilted towards the window to follow the stag as it, too, begins to walk along the road. It will be seeing them out, it seems. III helps II inside, nervous hands fluttering about as if to catch II should he stumble or fall, though II only spares him a fond, bemused sigh as he tells Vessel to go on to bed. Despite the injury still causing pain, II is able to walk without much difficulty, beelining for the kitchen to make a mug of tea, grumbling about the mess everywhere. III follows, and Vessel longs to do the same. He doesn't deserve to be near them, though, not after the mess he caused. He turns away from them once they're out of his direct line of sight.

"Three?" II asks quietly once he's sure Vessel is out of earshot, carefully setting his favorite mug down onto the counter with shaking hands.

"Yes, Doll?" III hums, busying himself with sweeping up the shattered remains of some of their spare mugs.

"The knives in the sink-" II starts, voice faint, and III turns quickly.

They'd forgotten-

"He didn't hurt himself!" III rushes out, widened eyes almost begging II to remain calm and not jump to conclusions, "He used them to kill Hate and it's minions. The blood isn't his, the creatures just... kept reforming."

II leans over onto the counter, cradling his head in his hands and sucking in deep, relieved breaths through the pain. "Okay. Okay, I trust you and what you say. I just- I saw them and thought-"

"You thought he'd hurt himself again, I know. I thought the same when I saw the knife block was empty. He used his telekinesis to float them back in from the living room. He's been doing well, aside from some hiccups when you got hurt." III explains, understanding thrumming gently down the bond, going back to sweeping.

He's only at it long enough to sweep up a small pile before a pained whine has him turning around, panicked.

"Can you- I can't reach my jar of apple tea leaves..." II laments, head pillowed in his arms on the counter.

"I'll get it! I'm sorry, I didn't even think-" III is nodding before II has even finished speaking, setting the broom aside to make his way to II.

As they're pulling the labeled jar of tea from one of the higher shelves of the cupboard above the counter, II snaps, ashamed, "Don't you dare apologize."

He finally lifts his head as III sets the jar on the counter, righting his position slowly and then turning to pull III into a hug. He tries first to hug as he always does, arms around shoulders, balanced on his tippy toes to reach properly so he can thread a hand into III's hair or cup his nape, caress a hand down their spine. The movement of lifting his arms sends pain through his system, just like mere moments ago, pulling a gasping moan of frustration. His hands fist into the back of III's shirt, clutching at them desperately as II gives in to his body's protests and just wraps his arms around III's middle. Frustration bleeds freely throughout their bond, relief and fear alongside it. II melts into the hug when III wraps their arms around him with no hesitation, pulling him tightly to their body so there is little space between them.

"I do not like feeling weak, and ever since Hate invaded our home, it is all I have felt. Waking up after all of that, knowing when I lost consciousness that you both were safe but it wasn't because of anything I'd done... knowing how scared you both must have been because I could not-"

"What, II? Fight off a God? One intent on playing with us like we were nothing more than insects. Having it's freaky little minions attack us and reform, over and over and over again? Hate wore you down and only then did it actually come after you, only then did it take you down. You fought hard, you held your own." III rests his head overtop II's, pushing love and reassurance down the bond, "It wanted us to devote ourselves to it, and when we wouldn't, it went for Ves. What a foolish God, to think they could sway Vessel from Sleep. Or us from Vessel."

"You're right. I know you're right, I just- Knowing something and accepting it when it hurts is difficult. Shit, Three, I haven't been awake with this injury more than a couple days and already I am sick and tired of how it hinders me. I can't even pull my fucking tea jars off the shelf. Every movement hurts, pulls on my side and sends... fire through my veins." II explains, something fragile in his voice that III has never heard before.

"I- I still remember the heat, the way I burned." It is an admission that sends ice through III's heart, cradling II to their chest as though the smaller man will splinter apart and shatter completely.

III knows II won't, far too strong willed to ever truly break apart, but the fear of it and the willingness to hold him together has III trying to pull him impossibly closer anyways. A small wet spot grows on their shirt, a faint sniffle from II follows what III says next, "You don't have to be strong all of the time, Doll. I'll love you either way, and so will Vessel. I want you to rely on me as much as we rely on you."

II doesn't say anything in response, knowing and hating that he can't promise such a simple thing. To even have admitted this much is instilling a sense of wrongness within him. He needs to be able to take care of the others and if he can't do that, then what use will Sleep have of him?

II knows well of his God's dislike for him. The love is there, but to a God, is that even a blip on His radar in comparison to His desires? III had gotten away with reprimanding Sleep for keeping Vessel awake for so long and then demanding He fix it, but they were still punished. If II were to say everything he wanted to, demand answers to every question that festered in his mind, what would Sleep do? Erase him, no doubt. And II doesn't want to leave III and Vessel. So he toes the line of insubordination, but does not cross it entirely for fear of the repercussions.

"Let's get your tea made, hm?" III offers, reaching up for a mug from within one of the lower cabinets.

II remains pressed to his side, surely making movement more difficult for III but neither one release each other. It makes II ache for Vessel, though, suddenly missing how Vessel follows him around in the kitchen like a particularly clingy puppy. It takes a bit more time than normal, but eventually II has a steaming mug of apple tea being pressed into his hands, III smiling gently. The heat startles him, staring into the steaming liquid as if it will jump out and burn his face. It's a ridiculous thought but II...

"Do we have any ice?" II asks quietly, unable to look up and meet III's searching gaze, setting the mug back on the counter with hands that tremble faintly.

"Yeah, we should, Doll." III comments, already turning towards their fridge and its connected freezer.

II is thankful III doesn't ask, he's not sure he could answer with a level voice. III plops a few pieces of ice cubes into the mug, sticking it in the fridge for a few minutes to speed along the cool down process. As they wait, III pulls II into another hug, leaning their weight down onto II and humming into his hair. II closes his eyes, arms around III's waist and head leant against his chest, listening to the comforting thump!thump!thump of their heart in his ear. III leaves long enough to grab the mug from the fridge once a decent amount of time has passed, handing the mug to II who takes it with shaking hands. The tea is cold when II takes a sip, and at first, his face scrunches up. It is not exactly displeasure that shivers down his spine, but the taste of cold tea is definitely something he will have to get used to. III holds him from behind after that, broom forgotten as II slowly sips at his tea and focuses on calming down the tremors wracking through his frame. III is warm behind him, arms wrapped loosely around II's waist with his cheek smushed against the top of II's head. It makes II feel small, in a good way. Protected instead of ruled over.

Sometime soon they will have to speak about the form III had taken, but for now II just wants to enjoy this. Enjoy being home in their ransacked house, with the ivy creeping along the walls, and III's garden outside. Where they are safe, as safe as they can be as vessels of a God.

Vessel's feet weigh him down as he climbs the staircase and enters his room, Elvira meowing happily as she shadows him. When II's panic lances down the bond, Vessel turns back, nearly back on the landing between the first and second floor when III shoves reassurance down the bond. Vessel hesitates on the first step down the landing, vines brushing gently along his arm in greeting, straining his ears to hear what II and III are speaking about quietly in the kitchen. After a moment, he decides that things truly are under control and starts towards his room again. He forgets to close the door (he should have closed the door- why didn't he-) as he crawls into bed in the middle of the day, not even bothering to change into pajamas. He closes his eyes after setting his mask on his nightstand, shivering underneath a blanket he pulls over himself. Elvira curls up at his head in a little ball, big eyes staring up at him. Vessel feels a swell of affection for her, so happy to see her again, and yet...

He is cold.

Vessel rises, grabs another blanket to cover himself in, and lays back down. Elvira meows, batting at his hair with soft paws. Petting her is done with shaking hands, little mrrphs and purrs rumbling through her chest that causes Vessel's lips to twitch up into a weak smile.

He is still cold.

Does he even remember what it was like to be warm? Truly warm?

Terzo immediately comes to mind, the warmth of his hands holding Vessel's, the way his arms wrapped around him and kept him close. Vessel wants that with II and III, he wants to be warmed by their natural body heat, to feel their hearts beat against his own still chest. He does not want the warmth of heavy fabric, he wants the warmth of a gentle touch. Vessel wants to be held, craves it desperately. He has seen II and III hug, how tightly III wraps II up in their arms, sometimes lifting him off his feet just to get a playful scowl in return. How II would move his arms from around III's shoulders, grab him by the waist, and swing him around as if III was as light as a feather, always so gentle when placing them back on their feet. Vessel... he wanted that. He wanted them to hold him in their own special ways. Would III try to lift him off his feet? Would they pull him close, press kisses into Vessel's hair? Would II get up on his toes so the angle isn't so awkward as he hugs Vessel around his shoulders? Pull him down into a kiss that sends a thread of adoration down the bond, warm like the gentle rays of the sun on a spring day?

Vessel runs a thumb under his eyes, swiping away gathered tears as they start to slip down his cheeks and into his hair. He wants that. He wants to be held.

Would Terzo let Vessel hug him next time they meet? Would that be an acceptable greeting as acquaintances?

He gets up again, grabbing a third blanket from over his desk chair, a thick blue one with simple white fish on it. The blankets are heavy when he spreads them over himself, curling around Elvira when she decides she has had enough of him moving around and lays half stretched out over his side in an unusual position. Still, he shivers and shakes, hands shoved under the pillow his head lays upon in some attempt to warm them.

Sleep claims him slowly with heavy eyes and then all at once while Elvira purrs cuddled up to his chest. He opens six eyes to Sleep's forest.

He's running, stumbling over roots and shoving past low hanging branches that scratch against the soft skin of his face. Bare feet squish into mud that slows him down as Vessel frantically follows the whispers of the trees around him, leading him to his lovers with a phantom hand pulling tight on the bond they share.

He has to find II and III, quickly.

A root lifts, and Vessel trips. He goes rolling as his forward momentum works against him. It should hurt, and his mind registers pain, but his body doesn't feel it. That should have indicated something was off, but Vessel can't think straight. Not when II and III are in danger, they're hurt, they're going to die- leave him all alone- please-

A quiet whimper of pain falls on Vessel's pointed ears, and he looks up, hunched over form bent into itself.

II lays a few feet away, weak hands struggling to free himself from where he is pinned to the forest floor. Vessel cries out, but no sound leaves him. Crawling desperately to his side, Vessel takes II's hands in his, pulling them from the solidified blood in his side almost too roughly. II screams, the sound echoing in Vessel's ears and II tries to wiggle away.

'Don't.' Vessel mouths, 'You'll bleed out.'

"You didn't come back for me? Why Ves? Why didn't you come back for me?" No more than a whimper of pain, II's words send a dagger through Vessel's empty chest.

'I tried! I tried, I swear!' Vessel wants to shout, wants to beg II to understand. 'Sleep took then kept me. I couldn't. I tried, Two, I tried. I'm so sorry-'

"You left us to die." II accuses, bloody lip curling up into a sneer as he coughs weakly.

Vessel sobs, shaking his head, cradling II's face ever so gently in his large hands.

'I would never.' Vessel mouths, hoping II will understand him. If the only limb Vessel had left were his arms, he'd still find his way back to them, digging broken, bloody nails into the ground and pulling a mangled body behind. If he had no eyes, he would still know each of their breathing, the sound of their steps, the exact cadence of their voices. Were he deaf, Vessel would know the feeling of their skin on his, their lips against his own. He would remember it all, in every lifetime, and no God would ever tear those memories from him.

Something tickles the back of his mind, like a realization, or the lead up to one, something right on the edge of his awareness, but it is plucked out before he can grasp ahold of it.

Vessel moves to try and lift II, but his hands go right through. II remains pinned, no matter where Vessel tries to lift him, and he lets out a weak cry of frustration, fresh tears bubbling over as he returns his hands to II's face, tracing over pale cheeks tenderly. He can touch him, hold him, but he cannot lift him. Cannot save him.

Vessel is forced to watch, to wait, to listen as II's life slips through his fingers, as black blood boils him from the inside and the god of Hate takes the first of the two most important people in Vessel's life. Time passes at once slowly, and so fast he cannot keep track of it. It could be hours, seconds, and Vessel would still only know the time through each breath that II takes, slower and slower, gasping, weak.

"You don't really love, Vessel, you just hate to be alone." II murmurs, icy blue eyes, once so warm with his love, beginning to crack into shards, freezing Vessel from within as he is trapped in his gaze.

The lyric, a truth, a fear close to Vessel's heart and soul, uttered by someone Vessel adores with every inch of his being, is like ripping his heart out all over again. To have it spit back in his face like this is a pain he would wish on no one, yet feels as if he deserves.

As II's breathing slows, stuttering in his chest, Vessel watches the light slowly leave his eyes, frozen in place and helpless. He waits, dead eyes boring into II's pretty blues, filled with ice, for death to claim his lover so that he can follow. There is only one final thing II can manage to utter, leaving Vessel feeling as if his world has fallen apart around him, burying him beneath rubble and shattering his bones, his soul.

"You should have let Hate kill you." The light starts to leave his eyes, and before that final star winks out, Vessel wakes, choking on a sob.

He trembles, struggling to escape from whatever is holding him down. Scrambling out of bed and hitting his floor, Vessel whines, partially at the pain, and partially at the dream he can't get out of his head. He crawls away, frantic, curling into himself against his nightstand that he slams into. The lamp rattles, but doesn't tip over as he paws blindly at the surface of the nightstand for his mask. He knocks it off instead of grabbing it, coordination off as he panics. It thuds against the floor, the bone white material making a loud clattering sound. Vessel doesn't even notice, giving up on that endeavor quickly. The confusion, the terror, the panic, causes Vessel to instinctually shut his part of the bond off.

The noise wakes II, the pain of his healing injury leaving him sleeping lighter than he is used to. He and III had crawled into bed with Vessel quietly, carefully, III bringing their own blanket and covering both he and II up with it after they squeezed in to the other side of the bed beside Vessel. The First did not stir, barely even moved as II and III got situated. His door was left cracked, an open invitation, and so they took it. Why wouldn't they have?

The immediate feeling of emptiness in the bond has II sitting up hastily in concern, knocking the breath out of his lungs as a pained whimper follows. For a few tense seconds, II has to struggle to catch his breath, still not quite sure what's going on. Sensitive ears soon catch the faint sound of sniffling and heavy breaths, tired eyes finding Vessel quickly.

Vessel is curled up into himself, leaned against his nightstand and facing away from the bed. His clothed shoulders shake, crying silently. Claws flex against his side, desperate to dig in, to rip and tear and maim-

"Ves, love, are you okay?" II asks, slipping out of bed carefully, shoving aside the minor pain the action still causes.

"Ves?" II tries again when he receives no answer but a shaky sob, the tail end silenced quickly.

"Don't touch me. Don't- I don't deserve your comfort-! It's all my fault. Almost killed you. Almost lost you. Almost lost you." Familiar with how Vessel falls into repeating phrases when he's upset, II kneels next to him, a hand hanging midair from where II automatically obeyed Vessel's command.

"Sweetheart, it wasn't your fault. We knew a god could attack at any time, we just weren't prepared." II reassures, frowning when Vessel only shakes his head in dismissal, still turned away.

The bond is not as devoid of life as II thought, but it's nearly completely hidden away. Vessel is keeping to his promise by a hair's breadth.

"No, no, no- You hate me. You hate me. Its all my fault, and neither of you will tell me so."

"I don't hate you, Vessel." II shoves as much love and devotion into his words as he can, but knows by the way Vessel's bond grows clearer, but only with more distress, that nothing he says will get through to him.

"Don't lie to me!" Vessel snaps, turning his head so II can finally see him, hands coming up to claw at his own face as he tries to hide behind his hands, "Don't you lie to me!"

There's a faint glow to his pupiless, red eyes, making it obvious that magic is at work here. Whether Vessel has any control over it is unclear.

"I am not lying." II almost snaps back in his sudden influx of worry, afraid Vessel will hurt himself, only iron will and his complete adoration of Vessel leaves his words softened.

Vessel flinches back anyways, dragging his nails down and leaving the faintest of red lines down his cheeks. He barely misses his bottom pair of eyes, but doesn't seem to care. Tiny droplets of red and black bead at the lines he's created, sliding slowly down his cheeks. II wants to reach out and wipe them away, tear Vessel's claws away from his face. He knows the action is likely to do more harm than good despite his best intentions and so he tries to calm him, think rationally about this. Vessel trembles, and not just with the cries he keeps quiet. II grabs the blue blanket from the pile spilling over the side of the bed, clearly having gone down with Vessel. It strikes him as odd. Vessel usually wears a shirt, yes, or even his hoodie, and while he runs cold, there is never any indication that he really was, no shiver down his spine, no chatter to his teeth. He has always explained the clothes as more of a comfort than a need due to a lower temperature. How cold was Vessel to have piled at least three or four blankets on himself?

"I should have let Hate do what it was here for. You were right. I- I shouldn't be-" Vessel mumbles, eyes a bit unfocused, like he's still caught in his nightmare, a fly in a web waiting for death to claim him.

Not letting his confusion at Vessel's words shine through his expression, II tries to slowly inch his way closer, socked feet helping him scoot across the flooring quieter. He remains a couple inches away, but reaches out again to attempt to pull Vessel's hands away from his face.

"Honey, let me just hold your-"

"No! I'll hurt you again- Don't touch me- Don't-" Sobs break Vessel's words into fractions, breaking II's heart with every syllable, "You already hate me, I don't want you to leave if I fuck up again. I'll hurt you and you'll leave. You'll leave, and Three will follow. I'll be alone. I don't want to be alone- Not again- I won't live like that again-!"

Sucking in a shuddering gasp, shock freezes II's face into an expression of horror. There's a sudden buzzing in II's skull, growing louder and louder around the echo of 'I won't live like that again.'

'I won't live like that again.'

'I won't live-'

II shakes his head, desperate to rid himself of that train of thought. Vessel self-harms, yes, but that does not mean he is also suicidal. Vessel wouldn't- He wouldn't.

"No, sweetheart, it's not your fault. I didn't get hurt because of you-"

"It is my fault! Of course it's my fault, why would you think that it isn't-" Vessel cries, six leaking eyes sliding up to pin II in place, the confusion and the heartbreak almost too much for II to bear.

Frantically, II stands. He moves too fast, Vessel flinching back, hands flexing to cover his face. More tears slide down II's jaw, and he takes a moment to rub both hands down his face, swiping away his tears resolutely. He turns to III, who has managed to sleep through the whole ordeal so far, and tries to wake him, not without guilt. Everyone is still exhausted, Vessel's bond filled with it alongside the ever present self-loathing and the fear.

"Three." II shakes the other man's shoulder, trying not to let any more tears fall, "Three, wake up, please."

III mumbles something incoherent, the bond slowly losing the fuzz of sleep, but eventually sits up, rubbing his tired eyes to try and focus. They clear quickly once the distress in the bond becomes apparent, going wide as their brain lags behind. Everyone was so tired when they got back home, and it was no different for III, who can barely think through their exhaustion.

"Three, I need you to hold Vessel for me." II can't quite keep his voice from breaking, looking between Vessel and III helplessly.

"He won't let me touch him." II whispers, a few traitorous tears breaking free.

Not trusting themselves to not slur or say the wrong thing, III nods shortly, moving to stand. Their bones protest the movement, but they ignore it in favor of crouching down beside Vessel who barely notices him. Gentle hands pull Vessel's claws from his cheeks, leading to Vessel finally taking a good look at III in front of him. A nail drives itself right into II's heart, a valiant effort being made to not let hurt bleed out into the bond despite how much it pains II to see Vessel letting III touch him so freely right now.

"Hey, pretty, what's wrong? Did something happen?" III keeps his voice low, aiming to pacify the terrified frenzy Vessel is in.

"Two hates me. Didn't go back for him. He hates me because I left him-"

"Oh no, hun, Two doesn't hate you. You came back for us, remember? Defeated a God just to make your way back to our sides?" III soothes, trying to spark the memories.

"He- He was bleeding out, wasn't he? He was- I saw it. He was all alone, Hate must have hurt you, too."

Vessel is clearly confused, the lack of sleep and the continuous stress finally catching up to him. III knew the crash would happen at some point once Vessel finally let himself sleep, but they couldn't have predicted this, didn't even want to imagine how terrifying it would be for Vessel, and seeing just how much worse it is in reality. He knew Vessel was taking II injury hard over the course of their stay at the ministry, he knew. But nothing III said or did ever amounted to more than minorly lessening that strain. Nothing they did truly helped, and now it's all crashing down on Vessel at once, it seems. If Vessel had slept at all while at the ministry, III is sure the nightmares would have swamped him then.

"That was just a dream, Sugar, we kept the object in Two so he wouldn't bleed out, remember? I was right there next to him the whole time, uninjured, even after you got there. We got Two help and he's fine now." III hopes his words will jog Vessel's memory, and those hopes aren't unfounded as some of the confusion seeps out of the bond.

"He... He is fine, now." Vessel murmurs, finally allowing himself to properly look at II, six eyes roaming over his form, catching on the tears II keeps wiping away, "You're both... alright."

The fogginess of sleep seems to finally clear from the bond, releasing Vessel fully from his dream. II hands over the blanket, III taking it from him and wrapping it around Vessel until a solid layer is between them. Only then does III pull Vessel to their chest, arms wrapping completely around him in a hug that offers none of the loving warmth of such. His fear and concern makes way for fondness as Vessel visibly sinks into the welcome warmth. Sucking in a deep, steadying breath, II lets the last of his fear slide away, gathering himself. His side aches something fierce, ignored in favor of trying to help Vessel, but it will not be so easily brushed aside now.

III pulls him impossibly closer, gently shushing quiet whimpers and heavy breaths as Vessel sobs. II watches, helpless, longing to wrap both of his lovers up in a hug, to smother them in his affection and shelter them from their pains and fears. Where before Vessel would immediately shut down his cries, desperate to not be heard, now he does not falter in the agonizing sounds spilling forth as he apologizes profusely as if there was anything to be sorry for at all.

"I'm sorry." Vessel cries, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Two, I didn't mean to hurt- I failed you. I couldn't protect either one of you-"

The apologies eventually taper off, a slow trickle down from sobbing to crying to mere sniffles. At some point, III has them all moved to the bed, leant against the headboard closest to the wall with Vessel practically in his lap, all four of his blankets laid over him carefully. II sits at his other side, nearest the nightstand, hesitant to lay down and rest no matter how his body and mind begs for it.

"I made you cry again." Vessel says weakly, so quiet II almost didn't hear him.

More gold gathers in Vessel's eyelashes, slipping over his cheekbone and onto the plush material of his jellyfish plushie that III hands him, eyes no longer glowing. "It's alright, Ves, it's good to cry sometimes." II hushes, aiming for a smile that falls flat despite his best efforts.

"Not... not like that... You look so-" Vessel cannot even finish.

"All I ever do is cry." He whimpers, reaching up to try and wipe away tears that just keep flowing.

"That just means you feel, love. You have a big heart, and you feel strongly. There isn't anything wrong with that." II says, offering up his hand.

Vessel stares for what feels like a long, long time, biting at his lip and peeling up the chapped skin. Then, he takes it, with no small amount of hesitancy. A thumb seeks out II's pulse point, and II just lets it happen, understanding it is a necessary comfort Vessel needs right now. The silence that follows is punctuated only by the breaths still hitching in Vessel's chest and the purring Elvira has kicked up at their feet. Time passes, and somehow II thinks they need this. Not Vessel's nightmare, no, but the time to just be with each other, alone in their home, finally.

Eventually, light filters in through Vessel's window around the edges of his blackout curtains, indicating it must be early morning. II sighs, rubbing a hand heavily over his face. Vessel had finally fallen back to sleep just a few minutes prior, curled up under a mound of blankets as small as he can manage with his tall frame. III is asleep, too, leant against the headboard with Vessel practically in his lap, a hand still weaved in his hair from where they were comforting the First. II stares at them, just taking his lovers in, then moves to stand. His side pulls, bringing pain with it, but he does his best to move past it, gritting his teeth. Elvira meows from the end of the bed, big eyes watching every move II makes. II pets her, smiling as she shoves her head up into his palm. With some regret, he does leave her eventually, softly ordering her to keep an eye on his boys. She meows in agreement as if she understood, and then II is exiting Vessel's room.

II has a God to speak with, after all.

The altar room is dark when he enters, but his improved eyesight that allows him to see in the dark makes getting around easier. He suspects his vision is no where near III's, nor even Vessel's, but he can see well enough. The room is untouched by the whirlwind that swept through the rest of the house, everything as they left it before II got injured. It brings him pause, curious eyes sweeping across the room. Vines cover every inch of the walls, all congregated around the rune etched into the wall, still dripping crimson. His heartbeat pounds in his ears as II walks forward, picking up the matches resting beside the golden offering plate. II lights the candles one by one, leaving only the centermost candle untouched for Sleep. When he is done, he sits back on his haunches with a pained gasp, and waits. It isn't long before Sleep arrives, the flickering golden flame casting the room in a shimmering gold glow.

Sleep does not speak, so II takes the chance.

"Take those nightmares away from him. I know you can."

"I cannot see his dreams anymore, my Second, let alone take them from him, now. I believe he is blocking me out, subconsciously." Sleep whispers, or, as close to a whisper as His many voices can, "He is gaining control over his dreams, becoming more than I ever intended. I gave him too much but if I hadn't..."

"You are a God, what do you mean you can't-" II spits, frustrated, hands clenching into fists in his lap.

"I cannot do it, Second. He is... He is becoming like me, my gifts are becoming his own and he is gaining his own power. I cannot take his nightmares from him for they are apart of his own domain, now."

II's brow furrows, confusion warring with creeping understanding. "Is- Is Vessel becoming a God?"

Suddenly, a lot of things make a whole lot of sense. It all started with his new sets of eyes, the forked tongue, scrawling golden cracks on the ink black of his skin, and now the silvery white hair... Each time he took more of Sleep's power, divine power, for his own use, Vessel would change. He is turning himself into a God for them, sacrificing his humanity.

"Not quite a God, no. He is approaching what could be considered a halfway point, and it is unlikely he will overcome that."

"What, like a demigod from myth? Does Vessel even know about this?" II's mouth falls into a flat, pale line, unease swirling in his stomach.

It would be just like Vessel to become a demigod for their sakes. No, not even just for their sakes. If Sleep had chosen some other people to be His vessels, if they were even half as nice- If they treated Vessel with even a shred of human decency, II is sure Vessel would do as he does now. Though, if II really thinks about it, it is not a matter of how kind they have been, but of how strongly Vessel's love for them runs. Had II ended up treating Vessel like his past partners had, if love had still bloomed in Vessel's heart because painful love was all he knew, then Vessel would still have done the exact same thing. It was in his nature to be gentle and kind, and... well, he is far too self-sacrificial for his own good.

Sleep responds, "I suppose a demigod would be an accurate title, and yes, I have told him of his growing divinity. My Second, I know my word means little to you, but believe me this once, if I could spare my First the pain of these apparitions, I would have. I wanted to take everything from him, when I first remade him, but there was so much damage to his... So many terrible memories and so few good, he would have been nothing but an empty shell. Some gods prefer that of their vessels. I do not."

"Sometimes, I wonder if that would have been better for him. I would have helped him, loved him, regardless. I can't speak for Three, but I'm sure he feels the same."

Sleep does not respond, but His presence, which had been faint and centered in the crimson candle, settles like a crown on II's head. In the next moment, the pain he had been feeling is gone. Something tells him it is only temporary, but there is no chance to ask for Sleep leaves, all of the candles going out with Him.

II is left staring at the sigil on the wall, at the paint perpetually dripping off of the lines of the rune. His heart still races, and only when II stands and leaves the altar room does the pounding leave his ears.

Once III and Vessel wake up, closer to evening, they find that II has begun cleanup on the house. The mess in the kitchen is swept up, the knives clean and put back in their rightful spots in the knife block. Vessel follows behind III, a hand clutching at the back of his shirt as the bond leads them towards the living room. Books are still strewn about where the creatures had carelessly tossed them, II sitting on the floor around a multitude of stacks that he is actively sorting. The tv is on, playing one of the Lord of the Rings movies at a low, unobtrusive volume. III goes to help without a second thought, Vessel following.

II turns and smiles up at them as they make their way over, offering up a soft greeting. He looks exhausted, guilt making a home in Vessel's gut at the sight of the bags under his eyes, thankful the emotion won't be visible on his face at least, thanks to his mask. Vessel wraps the blanket tighter around his shoulders, shivering where he lingers at the edge of the couch. A glance down at it shows blood and faint burn marks in the material, and Vessel feels suddenly nauseous.

"I've got this, you two, why don't you go check on your garden, Three? I'm sure Vessel wouldn't mind the fresh air." II suggests, but it comes across as more of a command.

"Sure, Doll, I was planning on doing so anyways! Come on, Ves, let's head outside." III agrees, smile widening, well aware of what II is doing and thinking it's a good plan.

"Just let me change into some outdoor clothes, be right back." III calls, already bounding off and up the staircase.

Vessel stares after him with something close to panic beneath his mask, fingers fumbling together nervously. II hates to see him so unsure of himself in their own home, as if Vessel had done something wrong or did not think he deserved to take up space. Or was it something II did?

"Are you going to go change as well?" II asks, taking in Vessel's rumpled clothes, which are the same as when they got home the day prior.

Vessel slowly shakes his head side to side instead of answering verbally, not meeting II's gaze from under his mask. It causes II to frown, hurt but not sure what is wrong. Quick as a lightning flash, III takes the stairs two at a time as he returns to the living room, sporting a t-shirt and a faded pair of blue jeans. It's one of the more casual outfits II has seen them in yet, but is unsurprised. III hates to ruin clothes when he works outside, and so has some outfits designated for garden tasks if they are doing more than watering. III grabs Vessels hand, lacing their fingers together, and soon enough they disappear out the front door. II wonders if it would be difficult to put in a door out to III's garden from within the kitchen, so they don't have to keep going the long way around.

The pathway to III's garden is littered with leaves, bits of moss creeping up and over the stone steps. There's a gentle breeze ruffling their hair, birds singing their songs all around them. Vessel keeps his eye's resolutely locked on the chipping paint on III's fingers, clasped in his own.

"Do you think we should clear some of this foliage off?" III asks, toeing at a bit of the moss with their foot.

"I like it." Vessel says, and so III replies, something terribly fond in their voice, "It stays then."

The words make Vessel smile, looking up from his bare feet for the first time since they left the house, and it's then that Vessel notices Kiwi looking at Vessel from her perch on III's shoulder. Vessel lifts up his hand to wave, smile growing wider when she waves back. III's garden looks mostly as they left it, all of the different types of flowers growing well in neat little rows. Vessel stands awkwardly behind III as they bend over to brush gentle fingers along a few petals of beautiful peony's. III plucks one, turning to gently tuck it behind Vessel's ear. Vessel blushes, thankful the mask he wears hides most of it, though it does nothing for the creeping redness of his ears. The kiss to where his nose would be under the mask only serves to make Vessel more... not embarrassed, shy? He is flattered, at least.

Not long after III begins clearing the few weeds that had popped up, cooing gently at his marigolds as they do so, Vessel wanders off with a quiet call over his shoulder, "I'll be back."

III turns to watch him go, contemplating whether he should go with him or not, but Vessel moves quickly, disappearing into the tree line still wrapped up in his blue starry blanket, accompanied by a crow on his shoulder. Feeling like they are being watched, III looks up and finds II staring out the kitchen window at the forest where Vessel wandered off, looking terribly sad. When he notices III looking, he smiles, but it does not lose the melancholy that fights to tilt it down into a frown. Before long, II is back to staring after Vessel, and III can only send his love down the bond as an attempt at comfort.

It is some time before Vessel comes back, long after II has gone back to organizing the bookshelves. III has finished watering his entire garden and clearing some fallen tree litter, Kiwi holding onto a braid by his face and speaking to him in wonder about the forest (which she has never seen before) and all the webs she has made in only the best corners of III's room since they'd been gone. There's dirt and bits of twigs on one side of the blanket Vessel has still wrapped around him, but the bond feels, lighter, almost. The peony still sits behind his ear.

The rest of the day is spent cleaning up the rest of the house, or what of it they can. Some things need repaired or replaced entirely. Something to be done when II's range of movement is not so limited. III and Vessel take on the brunt of the work when II inevitably is forced to take a break. Many of them, in fact, despite his mild complaints. III won't take no for an answer, forcing II down onto the couch with a glass of iced raspberry tea.

Vessel feels as though he is experiencing all of this at a distance, his mind continually going back to his nightmare and what dream II had said. Should Vessel ask? Does he dare? There was no way II and III knew of what Hate said to him, what It offered.

That night, Vessel crawls into II's bed (after III had informed II that he would probably not want to be in III's room due to all the spiderwebs Kiwi had made, and the little spider herself). He is careful of how the bed shifts under him, II's wound still tender enough to hurt if he moves even slightly the wrong way. Vessel wants to hold him, wrap his arms around II's waist and lay his head on the smaller man's stomach. He doesn't feel as though he deserves that, however, not with his nightmare still fresh from the night before. He settles on III's other side instead, letting III wrap Ii up in his arms and pretending he's perfectly alright with only reaching an arm over III's waist to lay on II's hip. As with the night before, Vessel layers blankets over himself, making sure to share with II and III, though it doesn't escape his notice that II barely covers himself with them. When Vessel goes to sleep, it is to the sound of his lovers steady breathing and the hope that his nightmare was just a one time thing.

It was not.

Vessel is running, stumbling over roots and shoving past low hanging branches that scratch against the soft skin of his face. Bare feet squish into mud that slows him down as Vessel frantically follows the whispers of the trees around him, leading him to his lovers with a phantom hand pulling tight on the bond they share.

He's running as fast as he can, for once thankful for his long legs that carry him over the rough terrain quickly. Like the first night, II is laid out over the forest floor, solidified blood pinning him onto the dirt as if he were a butterfly on display. III is there this time, hunched over II and holding a hand close to their chest. Vessel nearly trips when he sees them, so overcome with relief it brings immediate tears to his eyes. The relief is short lived, III tipping over onto his side just as Vessel reaches the both of them. His gaze zeroes in on the black blood protruding out of III's stomach, the dribble of crimson in the corner of III's mouth.

Time slows down. If Vessel had pupils, they would be mere pinpricks in the mass of his crimson irises, eyes widened in horror. When he makes his way to their sides, it is with shaking legs, stumbling steps that threaten to send him careening down onto the forest floor. II is completely still under III, glassy eyes staring up into the trees. Vessel sobs, pulling III up by his shoulders to at least check if they're still alive. III's chest is empty of air, not even the barest bit of movement to signify breathing. Vessel shakes him anyway, sobbing loudly with every sharp intake of panicked breaths, breaths he doesn't need.

Around them, the forest begins to bleed. 

Red drips down from tree trunks like sticky sap, leaves staining from stem to edge a deep scarlet. Green moss froths, dying crimson. The dirt begins to swell, deep browns becoming rich, bloody red. 

His hands slip, blood from III's wound, protruding straight out of his back, coating his fingers. The same thing that hurt - killed- II is sticking out of them, burning into Vessel's skin. His flesh blisters but Vessel doesn't care, barely even feels it. III's head lolls over Vessel's shoulder as he pulls them to his chest, careful of the protrusion. A hand comes up to cradle III's head, weaving into their loose hair. 

"Why..." III gasps, coughing harshly, "Why did you come back?"

"Why would I not come back? I will always come back for you." Vessel whispers, voice breaking on the tail end of a shuddering sob.

"We don't want you anymore." Weak hands try to shove Vessel away, beating against his stomach and chest, pushing against his arms, but in an act of pure selfishness, Vessel does not allow it.

Vessel's world shatters into pieces. III's breath hitches, splatters of hot, wet blood leaving his lungs. Where it hits the ground, more blood rises from the cold dark earth.

"No, please, you said you'd never leave me. You promised-"

"I've broken promises to you before." III spits, breaking out into a coughing fit.

"Only one, only one, beloved." Vessel mumbles, "You've kept every important promise to me. Every single one."

"Two and I said we would never leave." Vessel's hands tighten where he is grasping desperately at III's shirt, dead eyes boring into II's equally as lifeless ones, waiting for the final blow to land.

So quiet now, fragile and dying, Vessel is only able to hear due to their close proximity, III's next words follow what already felt like a death knell, "We'll leave you, now. As you left us."

"No-"

III makes a horrible gasping sound. It rattles his lungs, seeming to echo in the silent forest. Vessel waits, pulling III closer. It is as close as they've ever been, Vessel thinks, despite the solidified blood protruding out of III's back. He wanted to hold them, but not like this.

When their last breath finally leaves them, Vessel makes not a sound. All at once, time starts again. Every tick of the clock rings in Vessel's ears, marching him to his awaited end. Golden tears are smeared in III's hair, wetting both of their clothes as Vessel continues to cry. 

Carefully, gently, as though cradling the most fragile artifact in the world, Vessel pulls III away to lay them at II's side. Deft fingers close blue, blue eyes, starting with III, then moving to II. Vessel sits at their side, golden tears dripping freely off his pale cheeks. Claws threaten to dig into his thighs where he rests them, flexing and unflexing, over and over and over. 

He has a promise to keep. He will not break it, he refuses to. Yet, he never promised not to... Yes. That's it. 

It is as easy as breathing to summon a knife, the golden bladed ritual knife he used to cut out his heart. The dream bends to his whim, and if Vessel were not so caught up in 'his home is gone. His lovers are dead. He has no purpose. They're dead, they're dead and he must follow-', he would know that this will not kill him in the way he wants. He would recognize this as a dream. But the mind is an easy thing to deceive when it is shown it's worst fears. No matter that the fears were conjured up by the mind itself.

He really should have let Hate kill him. It would have hurt less than this, he is sure. Vessel deserves this though, as always. When he goes, when Sleep welcomes him, Vessel can ask to be eradicated. Maybe with a little begging Sleep will do it. Vessel doesn't mind giving his body over to the God to use as a true vessel for His will. Connected as they are, it should be possible. And if it isn't, will Sleep be able to erase Vessel's mind? Keep him locked up in a little box in the back of his own head, asleep forevermore and ignorant of the world that no longer is home to the only things that kept him going?

Pressing the knife to his throat, it is quick work to glide it against soft, yielding flesh.

"Vessel! Wake up! Please-"

Vessel startles awake, a burnt hand coming up to hold his throat. It comes back wet with blood when he pulls it away. Six eyes slowly slide up to meet the panicked, tear-filled eyes of his lovers, wide awake and surrounding him as though it was Vessel on his deathbed, like he hadn't just watched them both die-. 

The sight of them rips a relieved sob from Vessel's chest. Instinctually, unable to help himself, he sits up with the intent to reach out for one or both of them, but pulls back at the last second. 

"Vessel, honey, what's happened? You were so upset in your sleep that it woke us up and then we couldn't wake y- Ves!" II starts, cutting himself off in alarm when Vessel practically launches himself from the bed. 

Like the first night when all of this began, the blankets follow him, try to keep him pinned onto the bed. 

Vessel is cold. He wants- He wants-

Vessel is gone and out the bedroom door before II and III can process what is going on. They'd both awoken to the distress (and that word feels utterly lacking in the face of the pure emotion Vessel had felt) in the bond, overflowing and practically being shoved at them, like an alarm bell blaring within their souls. 

It filled them with dread, and that feeling only worsens now as they watch Vessel flee away from them. III will not forget the red blood trickling slowly down Vessel's neck as if something had cut him there, tried to slit his throat...

II and III clamber down the stairs after Vessel just in time to hear the front door click shut, II lagging behind severely, hindered by his aching scar. III is unsure whether to leave II behind and follow after Vessel, or stay to help II down the stairs. 

II decides for him, "Go. Ves is more important, go."

III gives a short nod before he is also out the front door. Frantic eyes scan the clearing around their home, searching for Vessel. He doesn't have to look far.

Vessel sits on his knees just at the edge of the clearing where well-kept meadow transitions into forest. He is hunched over into himself, folded in half with his arms over his head. Afraid that calling out to him will make Vessel flee again, III makes their way to his side, kneeling just beside him. Close now, the sobs wracking Vessels' frame are apparent though not for the noise they make, but how they shake his shoulders. 

"Sugar?"

Vessel's whole body flinches, but he does not move to run away. He says something, but III cannot make it out, warbled and quiet as it is. 

"Can you say that again, beautiful?" III asks, voice gentle as they hear the front door close as quietly as possible.

"Keep me. I'll be good. Just keep me. Please, keep me. Stay. Stay." An audible sob is finally hear, and then Vessel is sitting up, turning his torso so he can reach out and curl into III's lap.

II walks up beside them, struggling crouch down, an expression of insurmountable sadness seemingly etched into every pore. III lifts on hand up, already moving to wrap his arms around Vessel, urging II to stay standing to not strain his side. II barely listens, anguish, whether physical or mental, flashing across his face. He stays upright, and III settles their arms over Vessel's back, rubbing soothing circles over a bony rib. 

"Please keep me. I don't want to lose the only home I've ever had." Vessel trembles, cold hands grasping at III's shirt so tightly his knuckles go grey.

III tightens his arms around Vessel's back, trying to pull him closer. Vessel cries against his stomach, wetting III's sleep shirt. There is not an ounce of care about it, the clothes can be washed of gold. "You're not going anywhere, Ves. We'll keep you forever if you'll let us."

"We want to keep you as much as you want to keep us." II whispers, settling on resting a hand on III's head.

It feels like a long time before Vessel pulls away, cries quieting to small sniffles, the sun yet to rise. The moon shines above them, the forest is silent. Things aren't okay yet, but III has to hope they will be soon. Vessel does not protest when III gets them both up, leads all three of them back into the manor. Elvira waits just inside the door, following their little procession to the bathroom and the first aid kit within it.

It is II that has to put a bandage over the thin cut on Vessel's neck, hurt by Vessel's nervous expression but resolved to treat him regardless. It had stopped bleeding quickly, black and red blood crusted around it. II wants to ask. So does III, leaned against the doorframe as II works and carefully avoiding the red so his fears don't send him into an illogical panic. They will not leave their partners right now, refusing to even think of it. His fear will not keep them apart. The burns aren't severe, somewhere between first and second degree. It is easy to guess what Vessel's nightmare may have been about. 

The burns do not explain the wound on Vessel's neck.

Vessel lets III herd them all back to II's room, leaving momentarily to grab more of Vessel's plushies and make tea. Vessel and II long to touch, but Vessel will not reach out and II will not force it on him. They are left stagnant, yearning, Vessel's trauma once again making things difficult. It leaves Vessel guilty, lessened when II offers him a beautiful, lopsided but sad smile. 

Vessel's empty chest warms, and some of the guilt alleviates. He has not apologized yet, he realizes. His mouth opens, closes, opens again. The apology for hurting II never comes out, and instead Vessel bites into his lip, angry with himself.

A glass of iced tea is handed to II from an old antique silver tray, carried by III with surprising ease. Vessel is handed a mug of hot chocolate, beverage type shared with III within their own mug. They all sit on the bed, Vessel finding himself under blankets again as they lean squished together along the headboard. Tired of the silence, III pulls up a movie on their phone, some superhero movie about a rich man who makes a suit of iron. The phone remains propped up on III's legs with a pillow, the screen the only source of light in the dim room. Curled against Vessel's feet and kneading the blanket strewn over them, Elvira purrs.

The movie catches Vessel's attention and manages to distract him, bringing out a couple smiles over the jokes and enraptured by the action scenes. II, relieved, presses a kiss to III's shoulder as the credits roll and discreetly wipes away the swelling of tears in his eyes. Hope that things will be alright now keep II going, sleep claiming him quickly, head leant against the very shoulder he kissed minutes prior. Vessel and III end up watching another movie, the second in the Iron Man franchise as the sun begins to rise. Their empty mugs sit forgotten on the nightstand.

Vessel is not okay, but he can pretend to be, throw himself into needed distraction and the affections of his lovers. It's easier to pretend, that way.

By the third night, faced with the same reoccurring nightmare as the two nights previous, Vessel dreads falling asleep, and yet he lays down to let it claim him anyway. Expecting the same outcome as previous nights, III holds Vessel to him, an arm over his waist, plushies piled between them for Vessel's comfort. II is on III's other side, desperate to touch but knowing Vessel will likely start crying again, begging II not to touch him, and putting II's recently fragile heart through a shredder.

When Vessel sleeps, he dreams in loops of the same nightmare. Sometimes they are the same, sometimes there are small differences. Sometimes, those loops include III injured or stuck in his spider form begging through their minds for Vessel to turn them back. It is not a gift they've been given, so Vessel knows that those at least, are dreams. Other times, times where reality and dream blend together, it is III laid out over the ground with II over him, tears streaking down their face as he tells Vessel to leave, to never come back. That everything was all his fault and if he'd just killed himself properly instead of pathetically begging a god for love, none of this ever would have happened to them. 

The worst dream is always the exact same as the second night's. II already dead and gone, III dying in Vessel's arms. His splintering mind keeps going back to it, playing it over and over, each time worse than the last.

Throughout all of the dreams, the place where II and III died remains stained by red, the crimson part of the forest slowly seeping out further and further. 

Terzo and Orion's words seem like a distant memory compared to the maelstrom within him. Vessel had said he would try, but every step forward seems to be followed by two steps back. He is trying, he swears it.

That third day, Vessel cannot manage even a word of greeting. He spends the day and then the night in his own room, the door closed and locked. That night II and III linger outside of it, hands clasped together. It is II who raises his fist to knock, and when he does, he receives no answer. The bond, their only lifeline throughout this, is quiet but not completely gone. Vessel has pulled away in that way too, keeping to his promise to not disappear, at least. They had hoped things were improving, but this has dashed those hopes completely.

Inside, Vessel lays shivering under a mound of blankets, face buried in his plague doctor plushie as he cries. He wants comfort, but every time he closes his eyes, all he sees is his nightmares, the cruel words of his dream lovers taunting him as the silence in the house stretches on. He knows if he gets up, opens his door, II and III will be waiting for him. They'll welcome him with open arms, grace him with pretty smiles and warm hands. They'll hold him as close as he allows. Vessel will not be alone, unloved, and his partners will be safe.

And yet, in the silence, the faint sound of breathing begins to reach Vessel's ears. A shuddering gasp, a low gurgle, the accusing call of his name.

Vessel lays awake, eyes wide open, trembling, tearful, carefully attuned to the tether of the bond connecting him to his lovers. As long as he is awake, he can make sure they still live. They will not die in his dreams if Vessel never lets himself dream in the first place. The night is long, and after it, Vessel refuses to spend his time being unproductive, refuses to let his mind wander around in circles as the worst nightmare of his life and rebirth replays itself.

II and III try their best to coax Vessel out of his room, attempting to lure him with chocolate or his favorite shows or movies (of the very, very few he's watched), anything, but the other is stealthy, quiet. II only catches a brief glimpse of Vessel lugging his electric keyboard up the staircase to his room. II audibly curses when his healed wound keeps him from following Vessel up the stairs quick enough. The sound of the piano is heard often, then, throughout all hours of the day. When II or III knock on the door, they receive no answer, just a gentle tug of the bond, a bit of reassurance sent their way. The vines move to cover the door a few days in, further entrapping Vessel inside by his own will.

As the days wear on with no sign of Vessel, III begs Sleep at His altar every day to convince Vessel to at least rest, to eat, even just to see them. Sleep, to II's continued detestation, refuses. Within a matter of a day, II was concerned Vessel had begun to hurt himself again without them there to comfort him. His only solace is the reassurance from their God that Vessel keeps to his promise. That, all things considered, he is doing rather well. A stern reminder is given that Vessel has gone longer than this without rest, and then the God is gone. II feels hate festering in his chest, holding III to him that night, side aching fiercely.

Outside their room, the faint sound of a piano sounds from Vessel's room. The instrument is a constant, and it is how II and III know Vessel does not rest, ever. It let's them know he is alive, so they take comfort in it where they can.

The thirteenth day finds Vessel listless, heavy eyebags stark against his pale skin under the mask he has kept on through every waking moment. Ever since the third night, the third nightmare, Vessel hasn't slept. He knows a nightmare will be waiting for him, and he doesn't want to see what horror his own mind will cook up. In weaker moments, being crushed under the loneliness of his self-imposed isolation, he hopes that he will spontaneously die. Just- Die. So he can at last have a peaceful rest. He wouldn't deserve the kindness the universe would have to grant him for that to be the case.

He finds his resolve wavering, exhaustion weighing him down. He had not yet gotten enough rest to recover from the two or so weeks he'd spent awake at the ministry, and again he is doing the exact same thing. He is tired.

He is glad, though, when he lays on his bed and allows his eyes to rest. He falls asleep quickly, body finally giving in to it's needs. Three restless nights of Sleep did absolutely nothing to abate his exhaustion. When he next opens his eyes, Vessel is back exactly where he hoped he wouldn't be.

II is where he always is, laid out over the forest floor. Instead of running through the forest to him, Vessel is already there, straddling him. Compared to the last few nights, II has a knife through his chest, blood spilling over his lips as he gurgles. Under him, spread out like an oil spill, is a concrete sidewalk, the grime of a city darkening it to something akin to an abyss, swallowing both he and his lifeblood.

Confusion and terror course through him. Vessel tries to lift his hands away from the knife but they will not move as if glued there. He tries the rest of his body next, but not an inch of him will move. Tears come quickly as II whimpers and gurgles punctuated by stilted, wet breaths as though he was drowning. 

"Two. Two, I'm not- I wouldn't-" Vessel can speak, at least, and so he gets to begging the universe to save them from this.

"I would never do this. This has to be a dream. This- This isn't even how it happened! This wasn't how it happened!" Vessel almost wails as he tries to lift his hands from the knife.

His magic pulses weakly underneath his skin, a faint tingling down his spine. Vessel's chest aches, gold beginning to drip down onto II's barely breathing form. There's a weight growing on his skull, weight settling lightly over his shoulders as something else slides down his back, the gentle caress of magic slipping off of him. Golden tears fall onto II's paling cheeks, his lover mouthing something Vessel cannot hear, cannot understand.

It looks almost like 'I love you.'

"Hey! What the fuck is going on?" A voice shouts, but Vessel does not hear it, too lost in his panic and the confusion ripping through every bit of his body.

There's splotches of red on one of the fingers holding the knife. Is it blood? Is it II's blood slipping through the crevices of his fingers? He's killing him- He's- He didn't do this-

"I didn't kill him! He- he was robbed. I saw it. I didn't do this. I didn't. I would never- Please, I don't want to be here any more, I want to wake up from this terrible dream. I want to go home. I didn't do this-" Begging to anyone or anything that will listen, Vessel struggles in vain to move, to get up, to force himself out of this dream - he knows now that that is what this is.

He has never woken himself up before, but he thinks it might be possible. It has to be. Vessel would kill himself permanently at even the barest chance he would ever hurt one of his lovers like this. He would never do this.

"Hey! Fucking get off of-" The voice is closer now, almost directly next to him.

A force shoves him harshly, a body crashing into his.

For the briefest, most glorious moment, Vessel is relieved. He will not keep hurting II. Then, his mind catches up to the situation. He and whatever has just hit him both go rolling. Dirt the color of old blood and dead leaves fly up around them, getting in his mouth and eyes, crimson moss cushioning their bodies to no avail. Arms hold Vessel down by his shoulders, and he panics, flailing, trying to free himself of the weight settled over his thighs, a sob catching in his throat. His eyes sting, he doesn't understand what's going on.

He doesn't want to- Get her off- Get off- No, wait, he isn't allowed to refuse-

"What the fuck were you doing?" The person on top of him yells into his face and Vessel goes deathly still, squinting open stinging eyes hesitantly.

Oh.

It isn't her- His dream has not shifted from II's death to- To his girlfriend-

"Four. Four." Vessel whimpers, voice nothing more than a frail whisper, blinking dirt from his eyes as best as he can.

Four's presence further solidifies that this is all a dream. There is relief to be found in that, relief in not being alone in it.

The righteous anger in Four's eyes melts into confusion, and then slowly into realization.

"Vessel?"

Four seems to finally notice their positions, the fear still blatant within Vessel's wide, teary eyes. His hands raise, cradling them to his chest, scrambling off of Vessel but lingering close as he says, "Fuck, Vessel, I'm so sorry! I didn't remember you."

Vessel slowly sits up, wiping tears and dirt from his eyes and snot from his nose. He looks over, expecting to see II dead again, like so many times before, but there is nothing but a bed of spindly red flowers. No sign of concrete to be seen.

"Where did he go?" Four asks, looking around with concern.

"This is... It's a dream. It's just a dream. I'll wake up, and Two will be fine. Just like every night before." It's a clear attempt to reassure himself, Four frowning at the utter desperation in Vessel's voice.

"Are you alright?"

"Yes, yes, this is a nightmare. I've been having so many." Vessel replies, the forced calm in his voice blatant when paired with the tremble all throughout his body.

"You do not have to lie to me, Vessel. I know we don't really know each other well, but... If you're not actually feeling alright, then tell me." Four starts, trailing off when more tears gather in Vessel's eyes.

"You are too kind." Vessel murmurs, gaze continually wandering back to the spot where II laid.

"Thanks but uh, why don't we move away from here? You're not looking too good."

Vessel does not answer verbally but it is still clear as he moves to stand. Tentatively, giving Vessel ample time to pull away, Four reaches out and grabs his hand. Vessel has the strangest urge to lace their fingers together, as he would with II or III. Four begins leading them off. clearly having no idea where he's going, but Vessel doesn't mind. He is glad to be rid of the view of that crimson clearing. He avoids it as best as he can on his walks, the forest understanding it is a no-gone zone. The trees above their heads and the green moss below their feet begins transitioning quickly into red, a bloody scarlet, the further they walk. Vessel considers having them turn back, but as long as they don't venture too far in, it should be fine regardless of his trepidation. If Vessel pays enough attention, he swears he can spot the stag trailing along with them, mere glimpses caught between the trunks of tall, thick oaks. A white gazebo comes into view some time later, a dilapidated thing covered in thick, red clusters of silver lace vines. It is caving in on one side, lacking in railings, floorboards creaking underneath their feet and Vessel finds there is no bench. It is lovely though, a new landmark he has yet to discover. He wonders if it is apart of the dreamscape, or if it actually exists in the waking world. It is so hard to tell now that both the waking forest and the sleeping one are laced with spots of red. Four lets go of Vessel's hand as they enter under the canopy of flowers, and Vessel takes the chance to lay down, exhausted even in his own dream. Decorative flower motifs are etched into the boards above their heads, vermillion ivy vines offsetting the ruby of the the silver lace flowers. Even here, the vines reach out towards him, peeking up through the floorboards to say hello.

His antlers dig in to the wooden boards as he lays down, and it seems as though he is only now noticing them. A clawed hand reaches up to run fingers along the protrusions, a contemplative frown gracing his lips as the other hand wipes away the remnants of tears. Slowly, Four moves close enough to sit at his side before deciding to just lay next to him. 

"Who was that?" Four questions, quiet, tentative, as though Vessel will shatter if the words are said too loudly, with too much force.

He looks over at Vessel, his cloak stained with dirt, staring up into the ancient canopies visible through breaks in the gazebo ceiling and plants. This part of the forest looks to be in perpetual autumn, Four taking it all in with curious, awed eyes. A bit of that awe is directed at Vessel, too, Four sneaking glances at the other occasionally.

Every bit of this place is beautiful, him included. Despite being in a dream, Vessel feels better than he has in days. The tiredness of his waking mind is lesser here, his mind clearer now that he is away from the main scene of his nightmares. The magic that always seems to settle over him is long gone, and it's like he has full control again. 

"The man I was on top of?" Vessel responds, voice weaker than he intends it to be, hands coming to rest over each other on his stomach.

Four hums in lieu of a proper verbal answer, and Vessel sighs, a nearly imperceptible little thing, filled with bone deep sadness.

For the first time since Vessel had begun having these dreams, he actually wants to talk about II, about any of it. He couldn't, before, not when the dreams were so raw and terrifying and he had a difficult time differentiating them from reality. Not when fears he cannot tell II and III were a lot of the focus. 

"That was one of my partners, Two. It was... it was like the way he died, mixed with, well, he got... hurt, recently. Almost died to another God. If I had just stayed with him-" Vessel cuts himself off, finding his voice too emotional and unsure if he should be explaining this much.

Four doesn't need to hear him break down, even though the sight of him doing so would likely be familiar at this point. He already witnesses so much when he finds himself in Vessel's dreams, and now to be dragged into what could have been a waking nightmare, what could have been Vessel's reality, what was II's reality...

"Oh, you've mentioned a boyfriend before. Is he... alright now?" Four says, soft, kind, curious.

Always so kind, despite what he's witnessed within Vessel's dreams.

"Yes. He's healed, but scarred now. It's all my fault." Vessel laments, "He must hate me. He promises he doesn't, but how could he not? I failed him. I left them and he got hurt-"

"Why did you leave him?" Four asks, curious eyes filled with something like hesitation.

"It... wasn't willingly. I was dragged away."

Four cuts Vessel off before he can continue further, "Then, its settled. You didn't leave him willingly, so it is not your fault that he got hurt. You clearly are torn up about the whole thing. Vessel, Two's injury is not your fault."

"But-" Vessel starts, bewildered and almost desperate to deny Four's words.

"It wasn't your fault." Four reaffirms, the ocean of his eyes a deep abyss, "You tried to get back to him, didn't you?"

"Of course! I- I forced Sleep to let me go to them. Threatened Him... in a way I never have before."

"He's alive, isn't he? Isn't that what matters the most? That you both, er, all of you are alive and breathing? The circumstances were out of your control. From your reaction, you'd go back in time and stop him from ever being near the danger in the first place. It isn't your fault, Vessel. Two must know this, and he surely wants you to know this too. He loves you, doesn't he? He doesn't hit you like your previous partners? Doesn't force you to do anything you don't want to?"

"No... never. Two is... They're both so good to me when I don't- When I feel like I don't deserve their kindness, their gentle hands."

"He loves you, so you should let him show that affection. Don't deny yourself their love because you think you don't deserve it." Four is oddly wise for a man who does not know the full circumstances, so self assured. 

To have another near stranger, drawn to him as Vessel is, be so sure about all of this... Vessel is almost guilty that each of their words seem to be getting through to him better than II or III's. Perhaps its Vessel's fear of them leaving him. That feels like something II would say. 

"I hurt him... I thought he was in danger again, and I hurt him while trying to protect. I don't feel like I deserve his affections anymore." Vessel admits solemnly, a hand falling to rest in the moss by his side.

It tickles his skin in greeting, as though even here the forest knows him, now unconstrained by the dreams Vessel has been having.

"That is for Two to decide. It was an accident, you were trying to protect him, as you said." It is something Vessel has already heard from III, and some part of Vessel already knows the truth of it.

It is a hard pill to swallow. The thickness of it clogs his throat, but Vessel had made promises to try, so...

He is glad when Four speaks up, giving him something else to focus on instead of the swarm of emotions swirling around in his empty chest cavity.

"You know, of friend of mine hit me at a bar the other day. He said I was making eyes at his girlfriend. I wasn't, too lost in the drink I didn't even want but he was too drunk to listen to me, and probably wouldn't have listened even if he was sober. My boyfriend caught me after I got punched, but he was so angry he didn't really notice how tight he was holding my arm when he hit him back, so hard it sent that friend of mine to the ground. Knocked him out, even. Boyfriend sprained his thumb though, punched the friend wrong I guess. I felt terrible, because he only got that injury protecting me. It doesn't erase all of the times recently that my boyfriend has hit me, or said... such cruel things, but it felt like a start. Like I was finally getting my boyfriend back, the one I fell in love with. He's been nicer about my mistakes for a bit now. Apologizing a lot more, too, especially after he- After-" Four, who had been rambling on almost as if he was talking to himself, quiets.

A hand comes to rest over his throat, massaging the skin there searchingly, as if looking for the bruises that must have lasted a while. Vessel remembers them from the second dream they'd shared, knows how Four's throat must have ached, how his voice must have been hoarse and broken for a long time even as the bruises started to heal. "Once I got thinking about it after the adrenaline of the situation wore off, I realized it wasn't my fault my boyfriend sprained his thumb. It was his decision to protect me, I did not force him to, did not ask him to. He smiled real big at me afterwards, getting a splint for his finger at the hospital. Said it was to start making up for all he'd done to me. I guess, what I'm trying to say is, oh, I don't know. I was trying to give you an example but the situation isn't really the same, is it?"

Four blushes, and Vessel watches curiously as his cheeks turn redder and redder the longer silence lingers between them. He really is very pretty, even with just a mouth and eyes. Vessel wonders if he can give him the rest of his features. An endeavor for a different dream, should Four come back.

There is so much Vessel wants to say. So much that it tightens his throat enough that he isn't sure he can say anything at all.

Vessel's first boyfriend was like that, and so was his first and second girlfriend. They all said they loved him, initially. Though as he went from partner to partner, the grace period where they didn't hurt him got shorter and shorter. There was little remorse to be had, but Vessel didn't expect any. He deserved it, or rather, felt he deserved the pain, the hurt. Four doesn't. Vessel knows without even a bit of doubt, that Four doesn't deserve what is happening to him. He opens his mouth to tell him so, to- to tell Four that he should leave his boyfriend but the words catch in his suddenly tight throat.

"You are... very kind, Four." Vessel settles on, the words tasting like ash on his tongue.

Four has already seen bits of what was done to Vessel, why can he not bring himself to speak of it? To- to warn the other man? Vessel is a coward, that's why. Foolishly optimistic just this once, to boot. Vessel hopes beyond hope that Four's boyfriend really will change for the better. He is not rotten on the inside like Vessel. Four is kind, so kind, so underserving of a boyfriend who treats him as he does.

"So you've said, but thank you." Four grins, cheeks still faintly red.

He's... adorable too. A blush of his own rises to Vessel's cheeks, and he realizes his mask is not on.

"This place is very pretty." Four deflects, "Lots of different reds. It's kind of unusual, but I like it."

"It is the forest around my home. Sometimes when I dream, red bleeds out into the forest, changes it." Vessel says, reaching a hand out to his side and growing a white calla lily up through the cracks of the floorboards. 

When Vessel hands it over into Four's line of sight, he contemplates telling him it's meaning. Good wishes seemed a proper gift. Vessel decides not to say anything. Four takes it with a pretty smile, Vessel no longer staring above but instead at him, taking in what features are visible, drinking him in. Mildly embarrassed, Vessel straightens his head. There is silence for a few minutes, punctuated only by Four's soft breathing. Vessel is... oddly content considering how the dream started, as well as how the last couple weeks have gone. He has been terribly lonely, though it was his own fault. Always such a coward.

"Are you happy?" Four questions, holding the calla lily out above his head, watching how the sun shines through it.

"What?" Vessel responds, confused, pausing with his own hand above his face, watching a vermillion vine creep over his wrist towards his palm.

"Are you happy? Do your boyfriends make you happy? Does the life you live make you happy?" Four asks again, turning his head to get a proper look at Vessel.

Dirt slides off his forehead, specks of it making its way out of his pale blonde hair. A smile curls at his lips, ocean eyes wide and soft with curiosity, but also uncertainty. Vessel thinks back to the bruises he sees on the other man occasionally, and wonders for a moment before the sight of Four's smile falling brings him back to the question he was asked.

Is Vessel happy?

His first response is to say no. It is met with disagreement, an uncomfortable twist in his gut like a stone has plopped right down heavily.

He is happy with II and III. They do make him happy, he realizes with a start. He is overjoyed at every moment they spend together, whether they speak or not, whether they are touching or not. Vessel is content to simply be with them. Despite his anxieties and his fears, Vessel relishes in every moment they gift him.

"My boyfriends do make me happy. My life is only worth living because of them. They are trying to teach me that I am more than what other's have done to me, more than the mess of insecurities within my own mind." Vessel says, and since Four has seen some of what has been done to him, does not feel the need to explain himself any further.

"Then there is hope for me." Four mumbles, but before Vessel can even gather the words to respond to the admission, Four is barreling on into a different topic entirely.

"Are you a God, Vessel?" There's a light laugh in Four's voice, something light and airy and inquisitive.

It's cute, but then Vessel registers the question.

Vessel's mouth gapes open at the mere notion of-

Him, a God?

"No! Whyever would you think that?" Vessel blurts, incredulous.

"Your six eyes! The stag antlers! The way I keep appearing here and all this talk of Gods." 

Vessel finds himself not surprised, not by the cloak around his shoulders, the pelt cushioning his upper back nor the decorated antlers on his head. This is all... something he had been more or less expecting, something he caught a glimpse of in the ocean's reflection when Four had seen that dream of Vessel's offering. He had expected to be changed. It is not so bad. 

"I... I also saw you without your heart. How are you alive without your heart if you are not a God?"

Vessel pales, looking more terrified than Four has ever seen on his face, frozen like a corpse beside him. "You... you what? You... you remember?"

Four stills, an expression of deep confusion overcoming his blurry features. So little of him can be seen, and yet there is so much expressiveness in the tilt of his mouth, the downturn of his eyes. "Remember what?"

Vessel tilts his head to properly face him, voice breaking on a barely held back sob, chest heaving with a steadying breath, "Remember that I do not- Four?"

"Hm? Oh, I'm waking up." Four mutters, voice slurred as if he's in a daze, hands lifting above his face.

Flickering like a dying candle, the light shining through the canopies above begin to pass right through, and then he is gone. The calla lily goes with him. Vessel is left alone, laid out over floorboards that creak with every movement. Four remembers, he knows. Vessel had hoped that he wouldn't. Now, he is sure that two people know his secret.

It was different with Terzo, but the man who will become their Fourth is another matter entirely. Vessel is afraid, and yet, beyond that fear is the realization that Four had known Vessel was without his heart this entire dream, and yet there was no fear. There was no hesitancy in touching him, in speaking with him.

Someone else knows, and while that scares Vessel, it leaves him just a little bit lighter too. He wonders what it would be like to hug Four.

Vessel has no more nightmares, after that. When he dreams, he conjures flowerbeds to lay in, listening to artificial birdsong, content to pretend that he is awake and out in Sleep's forest. He would never dare tell anyone this, but he wishes that Four were with him. When he wakes not long after Four disappears, he seeks out II and III. Apologies for pulling away and an explanation are spilled through silent tears, accepted with loving hands and gentle kisses. Vessel does not tell them of Four, but he tells them most everything else. How Vessel's greatest fear (outside of the matter of his heart) is that they will leave him all alone, whether through death or deciding they won't want him anymore.  Like every time Vessel reveals fears of his, his words are met with understanding, with love and assurances that lean into logic where needed. It helps, it really helps and Vessel is so... so grateful for his lovers. 

Still, there is hesitance when Vessel leans down to press a kiss to II's temple that morning, hesitance when II reaches out to clasp their fingers together. II notices, and considers his options.

[witchywriter18]

Being married and having a child with Sebastian Sallow

Slight hint of MC being a Hufflepuff but I'm a Hufflepuff soooo, deal with it

You and Sebastian got married almost immediately out of Hogwarts.

After you had stood by him during 5th year, he knew you were going to be the only woman for him.

Nah, let's face it. He knew you were perfect once you kicked his ass in DADA, the other stuff just sealed the deal.

Anne actually attended the wedding. While she was still upset about the relic situation, she couldn't miss her own twin's wedding.

Sebastian was very much on the verge of tears when he saw you in your dress.

If you thought he was clingy when you were dating, oh boy. Sebastian is even more clingy and affectionate after you two got married.

After the honeymoon, you both decided to live in Feldcroft.

While yes it held horrible memories for Sebastian, it had some good ones too. And he was ready to make more good memories with you.

For work, I don't think Sebastian would become an Auror. He didn't want to be anything like his uncle. I like the thought of him being a cursebreaker or even an unspeakable.

You on the other hand. Instead of being a housewife, you're either a herbologist or magizoologist. Your reasoning being that you've dealt with enough dark wizards and treasure hunting to last you a lifetime.

After about a year of marriage, you find out that you are with child. Sebastian is literally giddy with excitement.

And now super overprotective Sebby has been activated.

"Oi, put that down! It's too heavy!"

"......Seb, this literally a sheet of paper."

Oh boy, this will be fun....

When he's not at work, he's following you around the house like if he doesn't have eyes on you, you'll get hurt.

You accidentally knicking yourself with the knife while he was using the bathroom didn't help.

"Seb, it's just a small knick. It's nothing-"

"IT'S NOT NOTHING!!! YOU GOT INJURED WHEN I WASN'T HERE!!! *sniff* I'm a horrible husband😢"

Oof, and you thought you had moodswings.

After making sure your SMALL wound was cleaned and bandaged, you're consoling him for a good hour.

He's also getting sympathy pains and cravings.

You have back pain? Now his back aches a bit.

You're craving chocolate on top of bacon? Now he wants a bite.

Once you start showing, he immediately thinks you shouldn't be galivanting around the highlands.

You agree with that since you don't want to take a bad tumble and put your unborn child in danger, as much as it pains you to not being able to rescue beasts.

Ah, there are the mood swings! Yes, now you're crying about how now you won't be able to save a hypothetical Niffler named Opal.

During the months as your stomach swells, you're trying (and failing) to knit little booties and a hat for your child.

Sebastian is quite good with his hands (in more ways then one 😏) so he's making the baby's crib by hand.

When you guys are in bed getting ready to sleep, Sebastian has his hands on your belly. He gets so excited when the baby kicks.

Sometimes when the baby is too restless and won't let you sleep with all the kicking, Sebastian's hand gently rubs it, trying to sooth them.

"Alright little one, I know you're excited to explore the world outside your mother's womb but you need to let her sleep. So stop moving about and sleep you little troublemaker."

He also like kissing your belly just cuz he can.

During your final month, he gets time off so that when the time comes, he's ready to wisk you off to the hospital.

So, the time comes. Sebastian is anything but calm.

"WHERE'S MY WAND?! I CAN'T FIND MY WAND TO APPARATE US TO THE HOSPITAL!!!"

"It's in your hand darling. Now take me to the hospital before I pop this child out on our kitchen floor."

Unfortunately, back in those days, father's weren't allowed in the delivery room. So all he can do is pace outside, panicking whenever you let out a scream of pain.

My poor boy is literally having flashbacks to when he had to use the Cruciatis Curse on you.

Your friends show up to give the poor man support, and to see the baby. Or hear in Ominis's case.

Ominis is patting Sebastian on the shoulder gently.

After about five hours, the midwife comes out to sat that Sebastian can see his wife and daughter.

Man literally jumps up and rushes into the delivery room.

Once he gets inside, he sees you looking exhausted with your hair messy and sweat on your forehead.

With your little bundle of joy held to your chest.

Sebastian is once again crying like he did on your wedding day.

When your friends are coming in one by one, he's presenting your daughter this way, every time;

"Behold! The Snadger! The product of a snake (him) and a badger (you)!"

"Sebastian, stop calling our daughter that or you're not going to get the chance to put another child in me."

You both decided to name her Anne Lilian Sallow.

She has your hair and skin tone while she has Sebastian's eyes. Only time will tell what other features she'll gain from her parents over time.

I'll probably make a sequel to this with early parenthood headcannons. This was originally just gonna be marriage headcannons but then the saga of pregnancy came up so it changed.

[rosie-kairi]

*taps on window glass* hey I have more Ventus angst mind if I uh *shimmies through and fall in* ah there we go.

Okay so it's actually really simple but probably has more severe psychological effects. What if Xehanort simply . . . waited. Like he found Ven at 11 and realized oof this kid has a lot of potential but is no where near ready. So instead of trying to force the split in a year when he's 12 he puts Ven through punishing training. Daily severe sparrings he has no chance of winning, constantly put yo against hordes of neo-heartless solo. Dumped into random worlds and told, "survive" and that's it.

Ven is forced to find or make his own shelter at all times, and is forced to find his own food. Xehanort may feel kind and heal Ven but never enough to be 100% and if he's feeling spiteful will put a spell on him so he can't summon his keyblade and therefore can't heal.

This goes on for 4 years and Ven went from being perpetually ignored and overlooked to speed running needed training in no time. His stamina and speed develop tenfold and his battle instincts are sharpened from constantly living like he's about to be attacked (cause he is) he can accurately predict and respond to an attack in seconds. And he's a master and fighting multiple opponents at once.

That said Xehanort is a punishing teacher and any infringement any mistake is met with severe punishment. Ven lives in constant fear of upsetting or disobeying his master because he knows he will suffer severely. He has no memories before being found so all he knows is his master and assumes this is as good as it gets. Except late in night in his dreams he swears he can remember someone begging him not to go because they can't lose him. But they did so clearly they didn't care as much as they said.

This goes on until he's 15 when Xehanort decide he's ready to forget the keyblade and the scene we see in the game happens. Xehanort is disappointed 4 years down the drain but Ven pulls through anyway. He still gets brought to Eraqus but now he only has a year to recover.

When he's brought to them he's terrified of doing anything wrong. He tries to find the nearest caves to sleep for the night and it takes Ven a week to be told this is not a test and he can sleep in a bed. Which Ven thought only people on other worlds did and keyblade wielders don't. He refused food at first thinking it was another test and he was expected to go find his own but eventually realized the only food available was in the castle but he would not eat until given the okay to do so.

Anytime he broke a plate or stumbled into someone he immediately took the position to be beaten or yelled at horrifying the castle occupatans. Ven did not trust easy but didn't want to be kicked out and just did what was expected under Xehanort.

For the time being Eraqus focused on his physical therapy and did not allow him to participate in training. But Aqua and Terra felt bad so they secretly did some lessons and learned Ven is insanely fast and a brilliant strategist but also goes to the point of nearly breaking his body. He's completely disconnected from pain warning him of his limit, learned to fight even when his stamina and energy are empty and he's ready to fall over. He fights like he has to make the other bleed and bruise first before he's down for the count.

Finding out Ven has no idea what a birthday is it even his own (Eraqus informs them he's roughly 15), never had a roof over his head, or a warm bath, never had his wounds fully tended to, and seems foreign to the idea of praise is heartbreaking. So much of the year is trying to help Ven realize he's safe and will not be harmed while he's with them.

When the game starts and he's 16 physically Ven has recovered by emotionally? Still not all there but he's definitely better just more subdued and mild mannered. Unless his temper gets pushed in the heat of battle he can't stop his explosive anger.

Seeing Xehanort after a year is traumatizing for Ven so he's actually not allowed to witness the test. When his friends leave Ven fearing abandonment goes after Terra not wanting the first taste of kindness to go away.

Ven learns the world's aren't as bad as he originally thought and he doesn't have to live his life as a weapon and in fear. When he goes him that all goes out the window when he's staring down his master holding his keyblade with the intent to kill him and he panics and freezes waiting for the finishing blow.

The ending is the same where Ven sadly accepts his fate and is ready to finish off vanitas and himself so Xehanorts plans never come to fruition he wishes he could've had more time with them. When Roxas houses his heart he's probably a lot more emotional due to the familiar feeling of being in constant battles against heartless in other worlds. Some memories of Xehanorts "training" come to him in dreams and he wakes up in a cold sweat terrified but the feelings and memories fade quickly. He's confused and doesn't understand nor does he understand why being around Xemnas makes him feel so uneasy and afraid (or Xigbar), Axel and Marluxia feel the most calming but he doesn't know why.

Basically Ventus being severely abused by Xehanort instead of being with Eraqus except the year between 15-16 and he's just severely emotionally traumatized but 10x stronger and faster due to the training.

Anon you sure do know how to emotionally wound me. nothing but bangers and bangers. Love it when you come in here and say "hey wouldn't it be fucked up if [x]?" and then immediately elaborate because. yeah. it WOULD be fucked up if [x] you are so right. You should start signing these off with like. an emoji or something so I can catalog these easier.

Xehanort doesn't have Vanitas to kick around so he just settles with regular Ven instead. Many Such Cases.

[brighttears]

Tender

Joel miller x reader

No physical description

Summary: You and Joel met on the road a few months ago and chose to stick together. On your way, you look through a house and find nothing more than a threat, but Joel takes care of it. You take care of the body with a kind gesture that impresses Joel. When you set up camp for the night, he asks you a favor, and you oblige, finally letting yourself move a little closer. With you in his arms, he admits something.

Word count: 4.2k

Warnings: violence, death, vivid description of a dead body, talk of death, talk of sex, all you do is kiss

A/n: revived from the drafts with very little editing once again! i've been reading this book i really like and trying to experiment with that writing style lately but this is back to how tf i write. teehee

—

You walk in the middle of the road despite the sidewalk, having unlearned that social rule, because you don’t walk down residential streets much anymore and there’s no cars to worry about anyways. You’ve been walking through his suburb for hours now, making your way through this town to get to the next. Walking for days, weeks, you only following him, having met him at the right time, in the right place, and under the right circumstances to let you come along, though there hasn’t been enough trouble so far for you to be able to actually prove your worth. You wonder what it actually is about you that made him want to keep you around, but it doesn’t matter much. All you know is now, you and him are a team.

“Alright,” Joel sighs out, slowing his steps, “let’s clear one of these houses, see what we can find, take a little break.”

“Sounds good to me.” You reply, aching feet thanking his decision. 

You both stop in front of the next house, a two story, olive green gothic. 

“A big house like this looks promising.” You say to him, and he gives you a halfhearted nod, only glancing at you and instead looking over the front of the house. You hope the worry he’s at least trying to hide is not a precursor for what's inside. For once, you would really like to see some relief on his face.

You’ve only been running together for a few months, but you work well enough for a look between you to tell you all you need. It takes a minute to clear the large house, but all there is to see is dusty furniture, nothing useful left. 

Joel is behind you as you ease open the last door, creaking open to concrete steps to a basement. You look at him before placing your feet slowly down the steps, bent posture to keep your eyes level with your gun, scanning the new room. You come into a wide space with two open doorways, the floor and walls all grimy concrete, rusty metal pipes lined in a corner and stretching over the ceiling. There’s almost nothing down here, just a few rusty shelves with miscellaneous, useless crap. In the corner, however, are a couple tied trash bags, both half full, a few cans of vegetables and beans, visibly expired, which wouldn’t be worrying if there was not also a rolled up sleeping bag with them, dirty but not dusty. 

Someone is here. Maybe someone stupid, someone who brings too much shit with them and doesn’t know what to eat. But someone to worry about all the same. 

Joel cocks his head into the room to your left and then to the room he stands in front of, holding his rifle up and ready, telling you you go that way, I’ll go this way. You nod, turning with your own gun raised to enter the next room. It’s small and all there is is a washer, dryer and filthy utility sink. You twist around to check behind the door, all clear. 

Then, you hear a quick “Hey,” from a voice you don’t recognize, the cocking of a gun, a hit, an oof, then metal skidding on the concrete floor. You dash into the main room and stop in the open doorway of the next room to see Joel, back to you, struggling with someone else you can’t see. There’s a small handgun off to the side that must have been what you heard thrown from the stranger's hand. You watch, gun in hand, too much scuffling for a clean shot, but Joel appears to be handling it fine. He headbutts the stranger and there’s a gasp and a garbled yell, and then Joel forces him to the ground, his rifle somewhere between him. Based on the screaming, choked and squeezed, it must be on his throat. The person's legs kick and scuff wildly between Joel’s as he attempts to breathe and scream. They slow, go wild for another moment, then, still. 

Joel stays on top of him for a moment, making sure, his shoulders heaving with his breaths. He struggles to his feet, frame hanging for a moment before he straightens. He turns around slowly, catching his breath, and his eyes meet yours like he wasn’t expecting to. He pauses, glancing between you and the ground.

“You ok?” You ask. 

“Yeah.” He pauses, “You weren’t s’pposed to see that.”

“I’ve seen worse.”

Still catching his breath, he responds, “Have you?” 

“Of course I have.”

Joel stares at the ground, then shakes his head. “I still… don’t want you t’ have to watch… that.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“Well, I will anyways.”

“You’re gonna give yourself an aneurysm if you keep worrying about everything.”

“I don’t worry about everythin’. I worry about you.”

You try not to let it show how deeply his last words twist in your guts, making your heart warm, your brain bleed, coming from him. There’s no room for this, the way he’s been making you feel, starting the second you saw him. 

“Well, still…” you look down, fidgeting with your gun absentmindedly before reholstering it.

“Doe’n’ matter. Let’s go.”

He heads for the door, curving his path around you, but you stay planted, looking at he body on the ground before you. 

“You’re just gonna leave this mess behind?”

Joel pauses in the doorway behind you, “What’s the point of cleaning it up?”

“I dunno.” You step towards the body, examining it head to toe. Eyes open wide, still fearful over a badly broken nose, steaming blood into his open mouth. Around his head is a growing red halo. His throat is nearly crushed. His arms are splayed straight out, one of his legs bent up, stuck from where it fell as he tried to kick his way out of Joel’s hold. The other is laid straight out, worn sneaker’s toe wrapped in silver duct tape. He’s skinny. Young. 

You curse the mushiness in you that refuses to leave. You don’t dig graves anymore, but you still can’t stand to just leave someone. People that have survived this long, regardless of how they’ve managed to do it, have earned at least some dignity in death. Too much thinking of your own death, resenting all the ways you might go before it’s even come, probably plays a part in this being instilled in you. 

You come around the body to link your hands under the armpits, dragging it to a wall, then coming back around to set him up against it. 

“Why’re you doin’ that?”

You take his pack off of his back and toss it over to Joel without looking. Then you rest the boy's head against the wall so that he’s looking straight forward, and pull his eyelids shut. You pat him down and find a fat revolver on his hip, too big for his size, fully loaded, and stuff in the back of your pants. He also has a dagger with a leather sheath made for something bigger, but it’s good enough, so you tuck in on your hip. You stand, not letting yourself pause on the body, and walk past Joel. 

He looks to be born after 2003, but not long. Based on his looks, he probably had his parents with him for a while. Maybe biological, maybe not. People that thought they were protecting him, but never taught him to survive alone. That allowed him to not have much muscle on him. That kept him too slow, too easily caught off guard, too scared. Maybe he ran away. Maybe they died.

Whatever his story was, it’s over. 

“Find anything good in there?” You ask, referring to the boy's pack.

“Nothin’ worth takin’.”

“Ok. Then let’s go.”

—

That was the last thing said for close to an hour after you left, walking back through the dregs of a neighborhood. 

“That was kind’f a, nice thing you did back there.” Joel breaks the silence as you walk past the large houses with a short forest overlooking a creek on the other side of the street. A nice neighborhood—formerly nice neighborhood. 

“You think so?” You respond, not used to a comment on it. 

“Yeah, I mean… I’ve never seen… someone do somethin’ like that before.”

“Well, get used to it. I do it a lot.”

His silence tells you that he knows not to ask further about it. You like that about him, that he doesn’t push. 

“You uh… you kill a lot of people?”

He’ll grant you some reticence, but you can’t blame him for some opposition. After a scene like that, further questions are fair. 

“Yeah. I mean… you have to. It’s like eating meat.”

“I like that analogy.” He gives you a slight smile. 

“It works, doesn’t it?” You match his smile. It’s strange how you can smile at something so macabre, but he did, so you do. 

The exchange feels like a leveling of the playing field, with all that back there. You think you’ve come to an understanding on what you can and can’t see, that he understands that shielding you from anything is a lost effort. He won’t scare you, you won’t be scarred, no more than you already are. There’s other things to worry about. Safety. But there, in the back of each other's mind, you know will be a sorry, sorry about the world we have to live in. 

You wonder what he was like before. From what you’ve seen, you guess he was probably a lot sweeter. It’s not hard to see that he’s got a front that he puts on. The shroud has fallen some, though. You bet he was a dad. But you won’t ask. No one asks about before. It’s an unspoken rule. 

“It’s too dark to keep walkin’.” Joel speaks up, changing the subject. “Let’s set up somewhere. Get some shut eye.”

You nod, then look at the houses and sigh. You stop and look at Joel, “I don’t feel like sweeping another house.”

“Me neither.” He admits. “The woods, then.”

You nod again and you turn into the trees. They’re a bit depper than you’d thought they were, and you sit down a few feet from the somewhat steep drop off to the creek.

“I’ll take first watch.” You say once you’ve settled. 

“No, t’s alright. You get some sleep.”

“You get some sleep. I can’t yet. Just let me take first watch.”

He looks at you, almost guiltily, then looks at the ground. In the bright moonlight through the trees, it’s still on his face, in his brow, his relaxed lips. You’re not sure what it’s from. Maybe from earlier still. Maybe because he really does want to get some sleep. Maybe because he still doesn’t quite trust you enough yet to not kill him while he does. You hope not; that’s just about the last thing you’d ever want to do

“I’ll stay up a while longer. Can’t sleep yet either.” He says. 

You decide not to ask. 

“Alright.”

All you do is sit for a while, a comfortable silence falling over you with the soft white of the moon. It’s peaceful. The creek trickles, nightlife chirping and humming like a lullaby. 

Joel shifts his legs, putting on straight out and using the knee of the other bent up to rest his arm. 

“So… what you did back there.”

“Yeah?”

“Why’d you do it?” He asks again. His face is soft, he doesn’t look at you with any judgment or scorn or mockery, just pure curiosity, and that’s what gets you to answer. 

You look at the dirt, cold and hard as concrete as you answer. “I guess… because that’s what I want when I die.” He says nothing, offering you to continue. “I just feel like… it takes a lot to live for a while. And I think that deserves some respect.”

“Not everyone out here deserves respect.”

You glance up at him, more diffident when you respond, “Yeah, I know… maybe respect’s the wrong word. Recognition, I guess. It’s not like I’m burying everyone that dies, I just… it takes a lot to get this far. No matter how you did it. Survival is survival. It’s just what I would want someone to do for me. Not that someone will, but…” it occurs to you that if Joel sees you die, maybe he’ll offer that to you, now that he knows. “I don’t know…”

“Well,” you hear him shift again, “I’ve never seen anythin’ like it, but… I respect it.”

You glance up at him, modesty keeping your eyes away from his. “Thank you.”

The quiet then is so peaceful that you don’t want to interrupt it. It’s a nice night, a cool breeze rustling through the trees, brushing your face like a kiss. You close your eyes to it. 

“You tired?” You hear Joel. You keep your eyes shut for another moment before letting the quiet go and looking back at him. 

“No. Just enjoying that breeze.” You offer a small smile. His lips tug up, and then you watch him close his eyes, resting his head back on the bark of the tree. 

“Feels like a kiss, doesn’t it?”

Joel opens his eyes again, looking at you with an unreadable expression. “Yeah. Like a kiss.”

There’s that spark again, straight from your brain to your heart, like an extra pump of blood that bumps a beat into your ribcage. You want to look at the ground or hide your gaze in the trees, but you can’t. You feel caught. You hope he can’t see it in your eyes, his locked on them. 

This man, rough and rugged, soft and sweet. Strong. Stable. Set. Here.

You want him to hold you. You’ve felt that for a while, but you push it down every time. Deep, where it’s safe, wanting it to be unreachable, squashed out, but it won’t leave. It barks like a dog tired of its chain, hungry and lonely and cold outside. Wanting to come home. Wanting to be warm. Safe. 

With his gentle eyes still holding yours, Joel whispers, “Do me a favor.”

Throat stuck, you reply, quieter than you intended, “Hm?” 

“C’mere.”

You flounder in the extra blood in your heart, pumping past your intellect, drowning you and your shield, your armor, you drown, and shift closer. You drown, and come into his arms. Your lips part, and you breathe. 

He’s warm… tender. His arms rest heavy around your shoulder and over your stomach. Your eyes close automatically, and there is that kissing breeze. Your body relaxes in his arms, softer than the dirt you’ve only ever rested on, and your head sinks against him, your cheek on his chest. It moves with his deep breath, and then his chin comes to rest on the top of your head. 

Fully submerged in the water, you submit and take a deep breath of it and reach your arm under his to tug it closer over your body. He places his hand on your other bicep, stroking his thumb over it. Your mind feels fuzzy like fur, this alien feeling petting over your entire body. 

Like a stray, hungry dog, you want more. You shift further up against him, basically crawling into his lap. 

Joel, protective, tough, caring, kind, homely. Safe. 

“Joel.”

“What is it, sweetheart?” He whispers, words coming over you like the breeze. 

You shift up, your guard fully burnt down by the heat of his heart, and look at his face above you. 

Joel. Resilient, passionate, winsome, close. A fallen star here in the dirt. Winged feather’s dark, but wings just the same. And here he is, holding you, those eyes on yours, and you’re caught, metal hook in your lip tugging them to his. 

You forgot how to kiss. But you know how to want. How to need. How to drink. How to taste. How to savor. And so does he. 

He cradles the back of your head, holding you to him, his taste is sweet and heady, like flowers after rain, like pollen, like life, blossoming into your mouth as he slips in his tongue. Everything falls away. All you feel is his warmth, all you feel is him, him, him. He pulls you closer, arms around your back as if dipping you in a dance, and you let your body fall limp in his arms save for your arms around him, stroking your thumb over the veins in his neck pumping real blood, and it makes you feel human. Not survivors, not leftovers, real people, kissing like people do. Joel makes you feel real. Seen, felt, cared about, and so warm in his embrace, so safe. 

Gently, he lays you down, keeping his hand on the back of your head to shield you from the cold hard ground, and he smooths his other hand around your waist as he leans over you, resting his leg in between your as if to entangle you, as if he’d need to, as if you’d leave, as if you’d want to be nothing other than close to him. A moan comes out of you, your brow furrowing up in sheer desperation for him, and you loop a finger in his belt loop to pull him farther over you. His body is heavy over yours, spreading deep relaxation through you under it. You entwine your fingers in his hair with your other easing around his waist under his jacket, exposed skin from his shirt pulling up teasing your fingertips. The word more flowers in your mind, any other thought absent, brushed away by his body and hands and lips. 

He breaks the kiss suddenly to speak, you watch his eyes wandering your face as he does,  “We can’t do this here, too open, it’d be too dangerous. We can uh, clear one of those houses, tomorrow, maybe,”

“What for?” you question, distracted by his lingering taste and a little breathless.

“I mean, uh, well, I wanna, um… alright, I’m gonna be a little crass here, but I wanna fuck you.”

You nearly snort a chuckle, biting your lip to recover and returning in almost a whisper, as if only to breath into his parted lips, “Well I want you to fuck me, too.”

He nearly moans just at your response, meeting your lips again and then pulling back away, “We better stop… I gotta hold myself back already, jesus.” He whispers, stroking his finger over the side of your face. You close your eyes as he touches you, imagining you were somewhere else in time. You wish you met him before all this. You wish you didn’t have to worry about it. Only be with each other. Relaxing in some bed with soft sheets and all the time in the world. 

“Ok,” You breathe out eventually, opening your eyes. He strolls his gaze back up to meet them, whispering “Alright,” and moves slowly to kiss your forehead. You’re a goner, you know it now, you’re his, absolutely, irremediably. He presses another gentle kiss to your lips, and you keep your eyes closed. You keep them that way as he slowly brings you back up, letting him mold your body into his, still in his lap. A sigh falls out of you, letting your head weigh against him as he holds you close. 

Something in you makes you think that this will hurt. Something will happen, and you’ll be separated, and he’ll only be a memory. Yes, he’ll break your heart, whether he leaves on his own or leaves in death, or maybe you will first. Right now, you can’t think of yourself leaving in any other way than your life ending. Either way, one of your hearts will be broken. That’s nothing more than a fact of life, now. Yes, this will hurt later. But not now. Now, is gentle, caring, sweet, unnatural, a dream, like a drug, like you’re tripping out of your mind, thinking you’re in heaven but you’re just in your bed, but right now you’re in the dirt, being held by a man the likes of which you’ve never met. Not even before. Because before, even the most broken were never this sweet, because this man, Joel, Joel, your Joel, is far more broken than any of them, more damaged than they could ever conceive of being, and his scarred rough skin is warm like the belly of a dog with this solid gentleness that makes you feel safe. Safe, surrounded by dark woods with things never not leering, whether they have some sort of human consciousness or not.  

“Have you ever been in love?” Joel suddenly asks, that soft tone that brings you ever deeper into the bed of his chest. 

“I’m… I’m not sure.” You whisper back. “Have you?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

“What does it feel like?”

Joel is slow to reply, but then, softly, he says, “Like this.”

[aro-geo-turtle]

OH MY GOD I HAD NO IDEA IT WAS DROPPING TODAY I THOUGHT IT WASNT COMING FOR ANOTHER WEEK AT LEAST

SCREW YOU SLEEP SCHEDULE ITS MALEVOLENT PART 41 TIME

Omg I’m so scared I’m so fucking scared

Arthur screaming at Kayne, what a beginning

Divorce time hehehe…ow

John baby 😭😭😭😭 all is forgiven on my front!!! I love you! Ahhhhhhh I think he’s finally airing out a bunch of stuff that’s been building up inside for a while. Owwwww

I wonder if projecting again is going to be as easy as they’re assuming it’s going to be. It was kinda a heat of battle thing. Either way, the physical toll on Arthur is a good cost to balance it out story wise

This is why John and Arthur work so well together, they fight but in the process they get all their feelings out there and communicated. They don’t let secrets and resentments fester without confronting them

And then they pack their shit up and work together, even when still angry. John’s voice when he tells Arthur that it’s ok 😭 because describing surroundings, looking for shelter and directing Arthur on how to get there is familiar territory, he knows how to do that and do it well so it’s all going to be ok now 😭

Jfbdjdb Arthur reaching for a light switch. Yeah this is going to take some adjustment

Aaaaand a monster already, yay! …wait a second. Jfbjdbdbfbdbdbb omg. An owl!! It’s the bathroom mirror all over again

John is finally able to openly talk about his time in the dark world 🥺

But also Arthur telling him he gets its a hard topic and he doesn’t have to when he’s not ready 🥺 and what we were all thinking, that he would have forgiven John for the deal

PET OWL PET OWL. Come on they deserve it! And I did not expect Arthur to be a huge owl nerd lol that’s so unexpected and wonderful

Welcome Alexander the Owl to the party! I’m so happy about this.

Spooky claustrophobic crack already, huh? Wonderful. S4 was a reprieve from the caves and it couldn’t possibly last any longer. And of course it looks like a mouth. Why not.

Ok writing down this broach description cause it’ll probably be important or metaphorical later: two gazelles, the baby escapes while the parent is eaten by a lion, angry snake in a tree in the background. Weird. A snake in a tree immediately makes me think garden of eden symbolism…

Please don’t enter the spooky crack guys.

No you’re going to fall off the ladder you guys fall down every hole and break every staircase/ladder you go on yep yep that’s exactly what I meant.

Omg letters. They’re going to find Oscar’s letter oh gosh I’m going to cry noooo Oscar’s letter was ruined????

They didn’t lose the gun for once??? Damn. And this is going to be far more advanced weapons tech than this era, this could be super helpful!

Wait Oscar’s letter??? It’s ok??? And they remember him???

Into the crack we go! Damn they’re both getting poetic now

These two spend far too much time in caves for a claustrophobe and a nyctophobe

Flesh! Wonderful! Is this thing actually a mouth?!??

Mmmmmmm ahhhhh what is happening????? This is very freaky! Oh no oh no was that an egg sac???? Ahhhh nope nope nope nope the sounds are not making this better! My only consolation is that it isn’t spiders, I was very scared about that for a sec!

Two paths is diverge in a yellow wood evil flesh cave…

John does seem to have gotten a lot better about his fear of the dark, I guess he’s just had to deal with it enough and been in enough situations where the darkness is actually helpful to get better.

Trapped in a cave with skeletons. Oh not only that, it’s a dungeon! Oh! Oh no! Can we help this guy???

Aaaand that’s where we leave off. Oof. Imma need to process this one. If I can stop laughing about Arthur being an owl nerd lol