#so they just each have a cloak variation ^_^

[cathartic-tomfoolery]

HALF THE VOICE DESIGNS!! Not completely happy with all of them, (*COUGH*stubborn and cold*COUGH*) but whatever! I'll probably change alot of them in the future tho..idk

[dilly-dahlia]

when i’m trying to use a more plausible color scheme for everyone in my MCD rewrite (since it’s going to be set in a more underdeveloped time period, a lot of colors are going to be expensive/hard to find) and can’t decide what colors to give certain people 😭

im obviously gonna keep some of the original colors in the beginning (like Lord Burt wearing red because of its significance as a powerful color), but keep everyone’s else’s mostly plain. for example Nana won’t be an explosion of pink (although it will remain her favorite color), Aphmau won’t be wearing purple as often (the most common variation of the color was tyrian purple which took a very extensive amount of labor to make even one gram of the pigment. that, as well as the color being reserved for royalty), and Laurance won’t have as many green articles of clothing in the section of my rewrite portraying season two (the emerald green pigment was made from arsenic, which made it not only extremely toxic to produce but to wear as well as the skin would absorb the poison)

(i’m still debating about Dante and Garroth with their blue tones because it was a more common color amongst the poor people and was made with cheap, low quality dye, but Louis IX and Henry VIII started wearing it with other nobles and it became a color of high standing so…)

now this is also where I also come to a standstill because of these colors and what they used to represent. each Divine Warrior will have a color associated with them, which is where part of their symbolism will come from. however, I’m stuck on what color to give Irene

there’s a very brief clip somewhere I can’t remember when it appeared, but Irene was wearing a black two piece that seemed to be torn. I imagine this being something like her “first” outfit in the world so i’m not too worried about that one, but I’m more concerned about the one she wears when she’s portrayed

we see Irene wearing two cloaks from what I remember (my memory is garbage and I have yet to reach that far in anything). one of her cloaks was royal blue and the other is a lilac purple. the lilac purple would be a more difficult hue to achieve in the time period i’m reaching for, so either way i’m going to make the purple into a deeper shade.

i’m having such a war in my head about which color to choose for her, though. because both colors could signify who she is and i’m honestly debating just having different people give her different colors but I don’t know

on one hand, tyrian purple was a color reserved for royalty. using it could be used to show the high regard in which people in Ru’aun placed her. it could be used to signify their desire to have Irene rule as queen over the region before she diminished the monarchy and developed the Lord system instead. however, this color was made from a tiring process that required extensive amount of labor for barely anything to show the effort, and I feel as though the way to obtain the color doesn’t represent Irene the Matron

on the other hand, I feel as though a deeper blue pigment would be a better match. blue was original worn by peasants but the steady popularity it gained with nobility made it a more expensive and luxurious color for people that could afford it, as I previously said. this color I feel would fit better with her character to show that Irene came from humble beginnings and was put on a pedestal after her efforts for peace and becoming Lord of Scaleswind (which would be equal to blue becoming a color of nobility). the only problem with the blue is that the dye used by the peasants was low quality made from the woad plant that (from what i’ve seen) was dyed much lighter compared to the royal blue i’m talking about. i don’t know, maybe she got an upgrade at some point…

(can you tell i love the history behind colors)

(also if anyone has any other impactful information concerning colors please let me know i also actually love learning about it)

(and greatest apologies guys this is basically a yap post it has very little significance to anything)

[sordidmusings]

Halloween in One Piece

Was blabbing at @schoute about Halloween in the OP Universe since she's doing some Halloween sketches for funsies! I'm working a little bit on a tiny One Piece haunted house AU thing (also for funsies) but this got me thinking of what would Halloween be like in the One Piece universe?

And I think it would be the most possible fun - different sections of the seas have their different traditions and takes on the thin veil holiday. Some traditions vary island to island. A lot of it depends on how much movement/intermingling there is between the locations so each of the four seas has an overarching set of traditions with variation based on island but the Grand Line is WILDLY different from place to place

Kids argue over which island to visit to get the best candy, young adults argue over which place has the craziest celebrations, and even full fledged adults try to argue which place's festivals are best. Those same kids arguing for candy also gripe about how lucky pirates and marines are to be able to hop down the shoreline or head to the lands with the biggest celebrations

Also love the idea that you may end up getting more than you bargained for or taken for a wild ride if you don't check the celebrations of the land you end up on during Halloween. Imagine a place with something similar to The Mari Lwyd, but for Halloween instead of Yuletide. You've settled at a new island and are all set to welcome some trick or treaters just like you loved at your old island. There's a knock at the door and you run over, bowl of candy in hand. The cloaked person with the horse skull is taller than you expected but maybe on this island it's normal for adults to trick or treat too, you're not one to judge. But then they start spouting riddles at you. You try to answer but they keep coming. You're accosted for quite some time, not knowing that giving them some liquor will send them away. (This happens to be a favored tradition of Shanks and he often tries to be in the area so he gets to be the dude who hassles people til liquor happens)

Also the rumors kids would have about the mythical goods and traditions on the Grand Line!!!!! "I hear there's a whole island where the dead come back for Halloween to steal the living back with them!" "That's nothing - I heard about a crazy giant lady with an island made completely out of candy, but if you fo there she'll just use it to fatten you up and eat you instead!" "No way that's real, you're a liar!!" "Nuh-UH my uncle's in the marines and he swears it's true!"

And since Schoute asked about costumes-

I bet it depends on the island/sea!! Some plaes are big into costumes and look at you funny without them while others only specific people wear them or maybe it's just masks or paint or veils. Some places are more like Carnival in Italy or have city wide masquerade, some are like gamelan parades or Surva (thank you @click-and-flash-pest-captures for telling me about the latter 🤍) to scare away evil spirits so only people performing would be in full costume. Some are like the US costume tradition where you dress up as whatever you want - there's trends of characters and vibes of costume (long live the unhinged slutty costumes 🙏🏻) but it doesn't necessarily have to be scary. Or maybe within the area of the seas that are like that, some islands its the scarier the better and you better not set a single foot on that island if you're not ready to have the piss scared outta you. Whole thing is basically one haunted house and used as a test of courage. Rumors always spread of what you win if you make it past all the scares and traps to the island's center, but they also say no one's ever actually made it.

Ok but also the brothels of port towns that there DEFINITELY are (you cannot convince me otherwise, there's too much money to be made doing that in this world) going HAM for Halloween to entice customers. More pious lands using that fact to prove that the holiday is for degenerates.

Also on that note - despite the Celestial Dragons and their ilk being the richest they'd have the WORST Halloweens cuz they wouldnt understand actual fun if it bit them in the ass. Who needs a city's worth of candy bars over the joy of dressing up and goofing off with your friends or taking your kids out or anything else you could imagine. Their Halloween is cold and sterile and materialistic. Boo to them - they wouldn't be able to handle even a single mischief night 😤

OML I would pay all the money to just have an episode of ASL participating in mischief knight or or or young Shanks and Buggy (who get caught by Rayleigh and brought to Roger, who only encourages them and teaches them better pranks and tricks. Little did they know that was Rayleigh's intention all along). Also with mischief night, none of that pumpkin smashing shit - our boys are better than that 👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻 (maybe not some of the other ones tho. lookin at you, Kid)

Tentative tags: @gingernut1314 @writingmysanity @hey-august @haveatthee83 @feral-artistry @mytanuki-kun @discordantwritings

[esther-dot]

i'm a sansa stan first and foremost, and i tried to ship s@nsan so hard lmaooo but when they start saying shit like "sansa has wet dreams about the hound" and "sansa actually likes older men", argh, i just can't. do. that. i know george said something about playing with it in the books, but i also think that he wanted to raise a few questions with the relationship, one of them being "who protects sansa from her protector?". like, there's TRAUMA in there. it's funny that they accuse jonsas of using sansa as a self-insert bc i don't know if you ever read a s@nsan fic or saw the fanarts, but they REALLY wanna bang that man 😭

(about this ask)

Nothing in the fandom horrifies me as much as Sansan. I’ve had nice Sansans come into my inbox, so I do distinguish between my feelings about the ship and the shippers, but I hate the reinterpretation of the Hound because it minimizes what he did/tried to do to Sansa. Instead of the later scenes where Sansa thinks of him being about her processing the trauma of his assault, suddenly, they become a gross villain whitewashing, victim-blamey, “actually, she wanted it.”

I once even highlighted that whole "who will protect us from the guards" idea you mention because I think it was meant to emphasize what a travesty the Hound’s assault was:

(link)

This isn’t a romance, this is a pattern. The Hound saves her than tries to rape her, Tyrion is kind to her then agrees to marry her, a child, a prisoner of his family, and LF rescues her but then starts to sexually molest her. All the same, in each of these instances, Sansa is grateful, she thinks kindly of them, and I think that says a lot about Sansa that you completely miss if you romanticize it and pretend that the Hound is someone, something to her, that he isn’t. I also talk about the whole cloak thing in that post too because I think the more contextualized reading is the one we’re meant to adopt.

When I did take a look at the meta, I was so creeped out by the nature of it and the art. Although, I want to give credit where it’s due. Apparently they were some of the first people to start taking Sansa seriously and created the reading of Sansa becoming a political factor, so they did change the fandom’s perception of Sansa in a good way. But imo their love of the Hound causes an imbalance in how they read their scenes. The point isn't that the Hound wouldn't have hurt Sansa, the point was that he very well might have but Sansa's actions stopped him which ties into a much bigger idea and important aspect of Sansa's story:

Even after the Hound assaults Sansa, later, she thinks of how terrifying the fire was, as in, even then, she is able to empathize with him, the man who held a knife to her throat and threatened to kill her. It’s laughable to suggest a man who mocked her relentlessly for who she was is capable of the same consideration. In fact, it is in a state of terror that the Hound attempts to rape Sansa and his fans use that to excuse his actions, and yet, while he is assaulting her, Sansa sings of mercy, gently touches his cheek. It’s almost like the very obvious interpretation, that the way to create a better world is Sansa’s method— not his— is what Martin expected people to understand, and his surprise people have turned it into something else altogether is genuine. (link)

As for Martin admitting he "played" with it, here's a clip. It's very short, and he's expressing surprise that his female readers like villains of which the Hound is one, and I think you can tell by his facial expression that the idea of the Hound and Sansa as a couple, is absolutely not where he ever intended to take things, not what he meant when he said he played with it. There are countless old monster movies with the monster being fascinated with a young girl or beautiful woman which humanizes him/shows a soft side. That's similar to Beauty and the Beast, the girl is what allows the monster to become human again, but in these variations, it isn't a romance. You can play with/reference tropes and ideas without it actually being a direct reiteration of the original story.

Anyway, filter and block and curate your fandom experience! 😅

[everythingblackblack]

Akako and Kaito relationship headcanons? Platonic and romantic if you can.

Please take this bunch of Kaito x Akako romance headcanons. 1. Kaito is the one doing the cooking in their relationship, he doesn't believe Akako would poison him, but he wouldn't risk it either. 2. When they sleep and take naps together, Aoko goes to look for them because they would just spend the whole day sleeping.

Kaito would be the first to wake up, he would look at Akako, smile and go back to sleep.

Akako would be the last to fall asleep, she stays awake to watch him sleep and make sure he doesn't have nightmares, she uses her magic to manipulate them and make him have nice dreams. 3. One time KID was being cornered by Snake and his boys, his hang glider was broken, he thought it would be the end, then a soft voice called him and said "Do you need a ride?" and extended her hand towards him. It was Phantom Lady riding a broom, the worry vanished when he saw her, he could only smile and say "If it's not an inconvenience for you, beautiful lady."

Okay, I can't help but think of Akako taking on the role of Phantom Lady and helping Kaito with his heists.

She definitely uses her simpler, less dangerous spells to support him.

4. Also, both sometimes sit on Akako's broom and look at the night sky, Kaito usually carries a blanket or uses KID's cloak to share with Akako and keep her from being cold. 5. When Kaito is sick or injured, Akako covers for him during his robberies as KID, making sure no one suspects him. 6. They both use romantic nicknames for each other, but not the typical "my love, my honey", he calls her his "precious and charming witch" or "the woman who enchanted his heart", Akako calls him "My sun, my moon, my light in the darkness". 7. Kaito always suffers when Akako catches a cold, every time he sneezes he casts random spells, some are silly like his hair turning green, others are more annoying, like being turned into a mouse and almost being eaten by the neighborhood cats, however, he will never leave his sweet witch alone. 8. Kaito learns magic from Akako, she explains to him everything she knows about magical jewels and about dangerous creatures that might appear in his path.

Kaito learns simple spells, and even uses them in his performances!

Kaito asks Akako if there is a variation of the "appearing roses" trick but with real magic, Akako says yes and shows him how to do it, when Kaito masters it, a flower appears for Akako and says "I know you like real magic, so I will only use this magic for you." 9. Akako is very protective of Kaito, she will use her magic to defend him from nosy detectives playing pranks on him.

One time, poor Hakuba had his desk filled with frogs.

Shinichi started losing things, he assumed it was because he was distracted, a witch actually got mad at him for kicking a ball at her boyfriend.

"How dare you ruin her pretty face?!" 10. Akako and Kaito always walk with their arms linked, this started because they started dating and Kaito was embarrassed to hold Akako's hand, but when he noticed that several boys were approaching her because they assumed they were friends, he began to offer her his arm so they could walk together. 11. They dig up graves together, Kaito isn't sure why Akako likes burying things in the graveyard or digging up corpses so much, but he doesn't ask, assuming it's witch stuff.

"You know, when you said we were going on a date, this wasn't the first thing I thought of." Kaito continues digging as he asks, confusion can be heard in his voice.

"This is just as fun as watching a horror movie." Akako mentions it with amusement and charm, as if going to dig up corpses is an acceptable equivalent of going to the movies.

"You make me question how crazy I am for being in love with you." 12. They take their birds out for a walk together, and unexpectedly Akako's crows get along quite well with Kaito's pigeons.

Kaito calls Akako the mother of his pigeons, and Akako calls him the father of her crows.

Akako and Kaito send each other romantic notes with their birds. 13. For Kaito's birthday, Akako used a spell so Kaito could talk to his father who was clearly very dead.

Kaito called her "the best girlfriend ever" and Akako didn't tell him that she almost brought him back (as a zombie), which she thought was a little disrespectful. 14. When Kaito destroyed Pandora, he collected some fragments and had a ring made with which he asked Akako to marry him.

Pandora is a symbol of eternity, and of his personal suffering, I find it romantic that he gave a part of that to Akako.

15. One of the scenarios I often think about is these two having 1 child, because I can't stop thinking about how paranormal that would be. Kaito trying to get his son down from the roof, or telling his guests things like "Careful! My son hasn't learned about gravity yet!" or just the kid turning his head like a character from a horror movie.

[tangledbea]

Got one for ya! If Tangled was made at a later date - where the CGI was more progressed and less expensive - if you could what would you - or what do you think Disney - would do wardobe wise to visually tell the story? What would be the story beats for each character you would feel would require an outfit change for story telling purposes? Hopefully this is a fun question for you - I've always thought about it since there is SO much amazing concept art.

Frankly, I think Eugene would stick to his one outfit until the end, and get an upgrade in the epilogue, just like he does in the movie. He doesn't have a home in which to store clothes, and carrying around extraneous garb would be a hindrance to a thief.

Rapunzel would get a new dress in town, though, perhaps directly after her hair gets braided. Then, it's like a total transformation. Also, I think, with the knowledge that she'd be getting a glow-up, she'd start out in something more peasant-y (and possibly green, since her promotional outfit would still be the purple one, or a variation on it). There are multiple concept art dresses I would pull for that one. Then, she'd also get her princess attire in the epilogue, though I think it wouldn't necessarily be so similar to her standard outfit/wedding dress. (Fun Fact: her pink princess dress and her wedding dress are nearly identical because originally, she and Eugene were going to get married in the epilogue, so they already had that dress design programmed and just needed to change the colors.) Since they now have the tech/budget for wildly different clothes, I think they'd use that as a flex.

Ooh, though perhaps Eugene would also get something new in town as a sort of disguise! That way, it mirrors the story beat of his world view changing as he falls in love, and then "I See the Light" would be all the more poignant with the two of them in their nice new clothes, holding hands, surrounded by the lanterns!

Gothel, on the other hand, wouldn't change styles at all, but her prologue outfit would be different colors. And she sort of gets an outfit change in the movie, in that she does wear her cloak when she goes out and takes it off when she gets home.

That's really all the costume change she needs. Her "costume change" is really that she visibly changes age.

The King and Queen would wear different clothes in the prologue and epilogue. Hell, they'd wear something different at the lantern festival than they do when Rapunzel returns to them. I mean, for goodness sake, they're the king and queen. Don't try to tell me they have one outfit apiece.

[xticklemeemox]

The Love You Want: III, Part Fifteen

Word count: 20,059

I had PLANS for the aquarium date i swear they’re just… poorly executed. I struggled SO hard with this damn date even though there were a certain few things I absolutely had to include. This feels like i’ve handed y’all almost 20k words of trash. This chapter did not want to be written and I feel so bad it’s taken this long, and for it to end up like… really shitty. really really shitty. Everyone say thank you sleep token paris show with LP for being the reason I got my ass in gear to finish it (BLONDE SHORT HAIR III OH MY SLEEP) (also insomniac on twt for being so encouraging and kind even though I know this chapter is shit) there may be minor errors in hwo things are timelined in this one cause i moved a scene further up into the chapter, i really tried to make sure i fixed everything so, sorry in advance

Ao3

Masterlist

Previous Part 

Next Part

____ opens his eyes to the sound of waves crashing on a shore at his back, sand giving way beneath his bare feet. The moonless sky above him is dark, an endless expanse of deep grey rain clouds. He looks around, confused, blonde hair being blown around gently in a breeze that doesn't smell of anything despite the expectation of seasalt.

He had just laid down to try and sleep, hadn't he? Desperate to escape the sounds of raucous laughter from the living room, the feeling of bruises on his hips and beer on his tongue from harsh, demanding kisses.

There is flickering light in the distance, and ____ finds himself walking with purpose towards it. He notices that the light is not that of a bonfire, but of small candles as he grows closer. In this circle of candles lies a man, a long cloak covering most of his form. With each flicker of the flames surrounding him, his prone form flickers, too. One moment, he appears as though he has antlers branching off of his head, making grooves in the sand. The antlers themselves have white lillies wreathed around the base, dark silver chains with pieces of decorative iron shapes, resembling a four pointed star, hanging between. There are white bandages wrapped around his covered calves, criss crossing over each other loosely. A mask sits upon his face, pearly white with a large red sigil that drips down over the cut outs of six lightly squinted eyes, as though the mask is smiling. Jutting down into some variation of fleur-de-lis points past the open mouth and creeping up along the jaw and nose is detailed red, swirling flowery filigree. Splatters of red lead up towards the temples, reminding ____ of blood.

In the next moment, he is just a man, skin as black as coal with veins of gold on the parts of his arms visible through bone white bandages. Attached to his ring finger on his left hand, are three red threads, one tied to each joint. The one closest to the nail is faint, the end of the thread leading off a couple of inches before it dissipates into nothingness. Unlike that thread, the other two are strong, tangible, with no loose threads. The mask under the hood changes too, losing the bloody filigree, the smooth texture, seeming more skull-like in material, with more grooves.

"Hello?" He calls, stopping at the edge of the circle.

The man does not stir, but with the state of his body, ____ doesn't think he even could. Still as the dead, the sight begs the question of whether or not the man was alive at all. ____ finds his answer quickly, eyes drawn to the beating heart laying in the strange mans outstretched hand, curled up on his side as though he was cradling it. A trail of blood and viscera overflows from the golden offering plate under their hand, leading from the heart to the gaping wound in the man's chest, a golden bladed knife stewn not far from the body. Ribs are splintered and pulled apart, a grisly sight that leaves ____ feeling vaguely ill, unable to tear his eyes from the empty cavity of the man's chest. Of the black sludge dripping out and colliding with red blood, but never mixing.

With difficulty, ____ tears his eyes from the bloody mess, and back to the heart, somehow less gory.

It is missing chunks, only a quarter of it left, and yet it still beats, a steady thumpthumpthump that pounds in ____'s ears. Sharp claws dig into the tender flesh of the right atrium, no kindness in the grey knuckled grip. The breeze picks up, tousling both of their hair, sand finding a home in the crevices of their clothes.

____ finds himself sitting, kneeling at the edge of the circle. Something in him begs to move closer, to pull the stranger into his arms, to comfort. He fears breaking the circle, something clearly sacred, but his soul yearns to touch. Waves crash on a distant shore, and neither he nor the man move.

Six eyes blink open, a set at a time, pupiless, crimson irises glowing from within the pitch black darkness of the eyes of the mask. They're captivating, beautiful-

Suddenly, ____ knows who this is, the memory hitting him like a lightning strike. Though the appearance is different, ____'s soul knows.

The man does not speak, does not move, only watches with tired, sad eyes as though looking right through ____. His eyes wander listlessly, searchingly, lips forming around a word that ____ cannot hear, but thinks he may know regardless. Plush, black painted lips seem to part around the word 'four,' over and over as if in question, eyes still searching for something.

With time that seems to stretch along infinitely, ____ feels something tickling the back of his mind. A name comes to the forefront, falling off his tongue gently, a mere breath leaving him in concern.

"Vessel?"

Crimson eyes meet the ocean blue of ____'s, snapping to focus as though Vessel knew where he was all along. There is panic, there, and fear. So much fear.

Wind roars overhead, the already cloudy sky going darker as they go from rainy grey to stormcloud black. Water laps at ____'s feet, where before the ocean has been distant.

"You shouldn't be here." Vessel's voice is hushed, choked with emotion, red blood dribbling over the side of his mouth.

In an instant, ____ realizes this is not a nightmare, but some strange mix of a memory like the times before this, and a dream.

Vessel sits up slowly, the veil of magic clinging to the top of his head beginning to slip. Antlers flicker in and out of existence with the weakening flame of the candles, the wind testing their resilience. An animal pelt on the back of his right shoulder trickles sand. On his left shoulder, a three tiered pauldron sits, white, with the same fur as the pelt between each tier. Chunks of golden corral sit at the top, and the same intricate design on his mask also sits on the rim of each tier, gold detail mirroring the mask as well. The pauldron itself is held in place by a strap across Vessel's chest.

Hands cradle the bloody heart close to Vessel's chest, golden tears slipping out from under the ever shifting mask.

"Vessel, what is this-?" ____ starts, alarmed, as salty seawater begins to rise over his ankles.

"Are you hurt?! Fuck, stupid question, I can see you're hurt-" He exclaims, frantic, reaching out to pull Vessel from the ground. "Please, let me help you! We need to move, the water's-!"

The other man is still kneeling in the sand, clutching his own heart with nails digging into the beating flesh. Water has made it's way to his waist, licking at ____'s own knees.

____'s hands hit an invisible barrier, lined around the circle of candles, unable to reach Vessel. His head is bowed, squeezing the life out of the heart in his hands. Horrified, ____ begs him to stop, tears desperate to slip over, to fall. He watches in terror as the hearts beating grows weaker and weaker, fluttering like a dying bird. Vessel is killing himself in front of him, and ____ is unable to stop him, to hold him, to help.

"No one was supposed to know." Vessel laments, barely able to be heard over the crashing waves growing ever closer. "They will not love me if they know my heart is no longer my own."

Vessel stands, coming up to his full height that towers over ____. His form entirely shifts to something completely inhuman, something almost like living shadow beginning to waft off his pitch black skin. Golden tears splash into the water lapping at ____'s waist as Vessel moves through the water towards him, eyes glowing a crimson red behind his mask, like the strange sigil sitting in the hollow of his throat. The antlers atop his head, jutting out through slits in the hood of his cloak, are extravagant and sharply pointed, the silver chains and lillies softening the intimidating sight into something more elegant. White hair peeks out from the dark void of his hood, like silver moonlight. An image of a scythe, made of white bones and an intricately carved ribcage complete with a blackened heart, is strapped to Vessel's back, rippling on the water's surface. ____ looks back up, expecting to see the scythe on Vessel's back, but only finds empty air. Chancing a glance back down into the ocean, the scythe remains on the rippling image of the water's surface alone.

In the middle of his chest sits a large golden scar, uneven and littered with slash marks where skin had been cut through and carelessly pulled aside to make way for hands to extract the organ within. It travels down the length of Vessel's sternum, uneven and gruesome, a clearly agonizing injury.

Candlelight flickers at their feet, unnaturally lit even with the water submerging them, Vessel stopping at the invisible barrier between them. Careful hands offer up the heart, held carelessly between loosening fingers. Divots are left in the beating flesh as claws release their grip. Distant, crimson eyes search ____'s face, catching on the fresh bruise over his cheekbone.

"Are you in pain like I am?"

Ocean blue eyes meet pupilless blood red as the devastated whisper washes over ____. A split second later, waves crash over their heads, water filling ____'s lungs-

____ wakes up, shooting up in bed to the sound of the same loud laughter he fell asleep to.

Coughing, seawater spills out of his mouth, salt stinging his nose and eyes before the feeling eventually fades like a dream. When his lungs are clear, he rubs his face with both hands, struggling to come to terms with what he's witnessed. He knows he has seen that man before, a couple of times at least. Why... why in this dream could he not remember him until a glimpse at his six eyes had brought the memories forth? The beating heart and golden tears, the antlers, six crimson eyes... he couldn't possibly be human. Is ____ dreaming of a God? Is he being visited by a divine entity, forced to watch as someone once human suffers? ____ doesn't understand, no matter how his brain twists and turns over what he's witnessed.

"____! Get your ass out here and get us some more fucking beer!"

____ stands, wincing as the movement pulls on the bruised skin of his hips. Bracing himself, a hand hesitantly reaching for the doorknob, ____ takes in a deep, deep breath to steady the racing of his heart.

It pounds in his chest, just as the bloodied mess of- What was his name?

The thought slips away like water under a bridge. What was ____ even thinking about? It must have been a strange dream, for his mind to still be so muddled after waking up. He startles at the sound of another shout of his name, irritation blatant and terrifying. Hurried now, ____ leaves his room with a wince, fearing the harsh berating he is sure to come for taking too long to do as told.

II is up and starting the day earlier than the other two vessels for once, but isn't entirely surprised by it. It still takes a lot of energy for III to keep up their glamor for so long, and Vessel had a hard day yesterday. He takes a moment to sit in the rock hard hotel bed and admire Vessel and III, Vessel curled around III's mostly covered form. Tender caresses are bestowed upon their skin, over the curve of Vessel's cheek, down the slope of III's nose, through each of their hair. Every touch is reverent, worshipping. II is sure he has no need of a God, not when he has these two.

Dark bags under Vessel's human eyes pull a frown onto II's face, dried tears having left glistening tracks. Was Vessel crying last night while they slept? II had hoped Ves would wake them up if he needed anything, but knows the other man likely still needs time to warm up to that. He's come so far as it is. II is so, so proud of him for the progress he's made.

Sleep's presence, felt faintly, lingers at the edges of the room, a silent observer. II isn't sure if the God is even fully here with them, or if its only a piece of Him able to follow them around. II doesn't really care either way, chunks of his initial love for the God slowly being torn off with every action Sleep has taken that has hurt those II loves.

Glancing over at Nick to find him still deeply asleep, II starts getting ready after covering III's unglamored form back up with the bedsheets. He knew Vessel would be excited about the aquarium, glad he had the foresight to look into the city the festival was going to be in. An ad had caught his eye, and after making sure it wasn't a scam, II looked into it further. Looking over the exhibits offered, II knew he needed to take Vessel. Absolutely needed to. III had agreed when II mentioned his idea, eager to see Vessel's reaction. The mere thought of how excited Vessel had looked when II had brought it up, exhausted as he was, was fuel enough to keep II's soul burning bright for decades.

Gathering up all the stuff they would need, II takes it out to the car. It was mostly just spare clothes, since they didn't unpack any of their equipment. II comes back into their room as quiet as he can. III is sitting up in bed, rubbing sleep from their eyes with black stained hands, hair a baby blue mess around their head. "Hey honey, sleep alright?" II greets, gaze soft with love.

"Mm. Good."

"That's good, sweetheart. You should put your glamor back up, if you can." II requests quietly, glancing over at a sleeping Nick as he leans over the bed to smooth a strand of hair behind their ear.

"Mm." III hums again, carefully getting out of bed so they don't disturb Vessel, who is still sleeping, too.

"Wanna shower?" III mumbles, stretching while magic shimmers very faintly over their form, reapplying their glamor.

"Together?" II muses, eyebrows raised and a small smile playing at his lips.

"It's not like I haven't seen everything before, Doll." III smirks, but they're so sleepy still that it comes across as more of a smile.

"Sweetheart, we showered last night. Don't you remember?"

III frowns, thinking. "Oh. No, I didn't remember. Was exhausted."

"We can shower together some other time." II laughs, so, so fondly, reaching out to pull III into a kiss with a gentle hand at their nape.

When they part, II says, "You should start getting ready soon. I would like to leave before noon if we can."

"Can I... get dressed up?" III asks, hesitant.

II levels a confused but soft look up at him, "Of course you can. I was expecting you and Vessel to be dressed up. It's our first proper date away from home, after all."

"You won't mind if I wear makeup?" Less hesitant but still unsure, III tries to come across as nonchalant, but II knows them better by now.

"If you wanted to look as if you've just stepped off the red carpet for the Met Gala, I wouldn't stop you. Wear whatever you want, be it makeup or clothes."

III smiles, a gentle thing that is opposite to how they pull II forward with arms around his shoulders, kissing him roughly and adoringly.

They have found themselves struggling lately, with the weight of their past, bad memories that linger because that is the way Sleep made them. III has settled in entirely with being a vessel, and even though that was a quick thing at the beginning, eager for acceptance and love, he is only now beginning to have problems. It's frustrating for everything to have been going so well, and his own mind seems to have other ideas. As Vessel starts slowly healing, III seems to be reverting. II, as well, if the stint of smoking is anything to go by. III really hopes it's a one time thing and that II's bad habit won't make a return.

III had thought- had hoped... he wanted to move beyond his past life. That was why Sleep had taken most of their memories, wasn't it? But it's haunting all three of them, even after rebirth. Maybe Sleep should have taken everything, left them as nothing more than blank slate's.

II's lips on his makes III feel a little like everything is going to be okay, no matter what. It's a familiar feeling, when II is near, when II smiles up at III so prettily, with that self-assured little glint in his eyes.

When III pulls away, II is noticeably breathless, panting. It makes III's smile stretch into a grin, "Can I do your eyeliner?"

"Mine?" II mumbles, dazed, eyeing III's lips hungrily, "Uh, sure. Yeah. No wing though, please."

III pouts, but agrees without a fuss, pulling II by the hand towards the small bathroom. "Are we going to be wearing our masks?"

"We don't need to since we have our uh, y'know-" II lifts up his necklace for emphasis, "Vessel would probably like to wear his but... we could get him one of those surgical face masks?"

"Oh! Good idea! He'll feel so much better with that instead of his mask. We'll all blend into the crowd better, too. Speaking of Ves, should we wake him up?"

"No." II decides, keeping his voice low, "We'll let him sleep a little longer. He deserves it, having taken the brunt of the ritual magic yesterday. If he sleeps past eleven though, I'll need to wake him up."

"That really scared me." III says, almost meek, the admission lightening a bit of weight on their shoulders as they begin to pull out their makeup kit from their duffel bag.

"It scared me, too. It was nothing like our worship in practice or at the altar." II closes his eyes as III directs, content to let III work.

Between careful strokes with an eyeliner pencil and a brush to smoke it out, II peeks an eye open to watch III dig around in their makeup bag, the picture of concentration. III truly is a beautiful man, II thinks, a blush slowly spreading from his cheeks downwards.

"See something you like, pretty?" III comments offhandedly, not looking away from their search.

"Always." II smiles, "You're so beautiful. Inside and out."

"You flatter me." III says, brushing off II's words with a shy smile.

II sits, stunned for a moment. III thinks that II is only flattering him? Perhaps this is taking a page from Vessel's book, but II would become the air so that he could be the breeze, gentle enough to rustle III's hair in the light of day. III is always so beautiful in the sun.

"I'm admiring you." II corrects, gentle hands reaching out to stop III in his tracks for just a moment. "I do not do flattery. I mean what I say. If I could, I would show you how you look from my eyes. The sun seems to follow you, a light in a dark room. You're gorgeous, and I wish you could see that."

III blushes, a pretty red spreading across their face like wildfire. They cover their face with their hands, trying to hide away from the praise. III feels unusually shy, a little off kilter, when he says, "I love you. You mean the world to me."

"I love you, too, sweetheart. Now, am I done, or do you intend to put mascara on me as well?"

"Well, since you offered..." III grins, and the weighted bond feels a little lighter, like the dark cloud that had been hanging over III has finally begun to recede if only slightly.

III's mood seems improved, after that. The bond is content between them, broken only by the fuzzy feeling of Vessel sleeping. By the time III is done with II's makeup and moving on to his own, Nick is waking up. II doesn't bother watching the other man get ready for the day, only scooting to the side of the counter when Nick comes out from the small room with the shower and toilet, to fix his messy bed hair into something presentable in the large mirror. III is finishing up with their eyeliner as Nick goes back towards the main area of the room.

"I'll be right back. Gonna grab a pack from the car." Nick comments without any intention of receiving an answer.

The door slams shut behind him, and while II and III's faces both twist up into annoyance, Vessel wakes up choking on a sob. Smothering the bond out of instinct, Vessel both takes peace in the near silence of the bond going quieter, and hates the way II and III go distant. The sound of the door slamming has his mind reeling, caught between his dream and reality, unable to process what is going on around him. It takes but a moment for his mind to move from the fear of potential pain from hands that used to hurt him and on to what his dream had entailed. He feels somehow stuck in his past and present and his dream all at once. Vessel doesn't know what's going on in his own mind, he can't focus, he needs to focus-

The terror on Four's face, set into the worry lines by his mouth and the crinkles by his eyes comes to the forefront of Vessel's mind. He thinks that for just a brief moment, just a fraction of a second, he may have been able to see Four's face in its entirety before waves crashed over their heads. His magic had been so strong, swirling within him and around him, churning the ocean water, leaking out of every pore as exhaustion weighed his body down, Vessel isn't entirely sure what was going on in his dream before or after Four's arrival. He knows one thing though, Four knows.

No one was supposed to know.

And now, two people know what Vessel has tried so hard to keep hidden.

The dream starts slipping away. Something in Vessel knows if he lets it, he will lose Four with it. He grasps ahold of the memory of his dream, holding tight to it as it blurs in his mind. Vessel doesn't want to forget. It doesn't matter that Four knows his secret, Vessel doesn't want to forget.

The force tearing his dream away from him loosens its clawed grip before disappearing entirely, and everything comes back into clarity.

That dream is his, Four is his, and nothing will keep him from it.

The possesiveness scares him. He has always been so selfish, holding too tightly to everything that was his knowing that nothing lasts forever.

He coughs, trying to rid his lungs of water that isn't truly suffocating him, curling into himself under the coarse hotel sheets. Tears are beginning to make a wet spot on the pillow as II and III make their way to him hastily. It had been only a few seconds since he'd woken, but Vessel felt as though it had been a lifetime. He is so tired.

II reaches out, intending to comfort. Where the action had been welcome, before, Vessel slowly less and less expecting of a hit, now he reels back, scrambling to the other side of the bed, legs tangling in the sheets. He doesn't know if he was expecting to be hurt, or if he was afraid of his secret getting out. He thinks, perhaps, its both. He coughs again, sure that saltwater will come up with it, but there is nothing but saliva splattering on his hands.

"Ves, honey, how can I help you?" II tries carefully, handing over a pack of tissues.

Vessel only barely manages to get himself to reach out and take the pack, hesitant of II's hands like he had been in the very beginning. It breaks II's heart. When there is no response, III asks a similar question, hovering behind II with a worried expression. It's clear they want to ask more questions, but III shows restraint.

The hotel room door opens, Nick stepping through while shrugging his jacket on. He takes in the scene, a concerned, curious expression pasting itself on his face.

"Nightmare disrupt your beauty rest, princess?" Nick poses the question lightly, a joking smile pulling gently at his lips as he takes in Vessel's tears with this look in his eyes that begets a sense of satisfaction.

Vessel's expression shutters, like a light has gone out behind his eyes, face falling into humiliation and upset. Cold fury blazes in II's veins at the sight of Vessel's eyes going dead. A far too familiar sight, reminiscent of when II had first arrived as a vessel. So much time and effort and love has been put in to helping Vessel heal enough to bring that spark back to his eyes... to bring him to life...

"Leave it, Nick. He has a difficult enough time sleeping as it is. I know you're only joking, but now is not the time. And don't slam the fucking door next time." II turns quickly, almost spitting in his anger, trying hard to not be too biting in tone despite the way he bristles at the joke.

A strange expression twists onto Nick's face, something trapped between a sneer and a tight smile. Vessel shrinks into himself, the expresion oddly familiar, even if he has no face in his mind to truly compare it to.

"My bad. Not the time." Nick parrots, guilt seeping into his smile, "I'll be back. Going for a smoke."

The door clicks shut behind Nick, more conscious of the sound now, II watching him pull out a pack of cigarettes from his jacket pocket as he goes. Something in II longs for the deathstick between his fingers, the smoke burning his lungs. He turns back to Vessel, shaking his head lightly to rid himself of the thought. His hands shake with his want.

It takes a moment for Vessel's voice to work, already strained vocal chords locking up in his fear. Tentatively, he lets the bond bleed back into focus, guilty over the concern the other two or feeling, but ultimately unable to force his own fear and anxiety to the side despite his best efforts.

"Don't touch. Please." Vessel hates to ask this of them, wanting the exact opposite of his request, the words thick on his tongue.

"Bad day, Sugar?" III asks, sitting gingerly on the edge of the bed, body poised to get up quickly in case Vessel deems him too near.

II sits beside him, hands carefully laid flat on his lap, though his fingers drum gently against his leg. Somehow, the sight of II still drumming, even now, brings a little bit of amusement to Vessel, knowing the other man always had a beat on his mind. Tapping it out soothes II's own anxieties, shows when he's feeling content, happy, sad. The familiarity leaves Vessel wanting to hold II's hands, to offer up his own skin for II to tap against.... but those hands could also discover Vessel's lack of heartbeat.

"Mhm. Don't- Want it to be." Vessel tries to wipe his tears away, but they won't stop falling. "I want... I want to be able to-"

Fear leaves him shaking, thoughts of the others finding out about his lack of heart racing through his mind on a loop that he fears will never end. Vessel wants to be held, wants to curl up in II or III's lap, whichever of the two would allow him the comfort, but now more than ever he is scared of wandering hands. Hands that would not intentionally betray him, he knows, but... Vessel is afraid.

"I... I... my rule. Please, my rule... you'll follow it?" Vessel is desperate, so desperate for affection, for their love.

Even if he doesn't deserve it. Even if he knows it is only fleeting. One day, they'll realize he isn't worth anything.

Softly, reaching a hand out slowly in offering, III says, "Always. Your comfort matters to us more than anything, Sugar."

Vessel's fingers are cold as death when he reaches out to touch just the tips of them to III's hand, a faint tremble wracking his frame.

"Here, sweetheart. Maybe it will help with the cold." II says, standing to retrieve Vessel's hoodie for him.

Vessel doesn't have the heart (ha) to tell him it won't. He takes the hoodie anyway, grateful for the kind thought.

Vessel slips it on, and covers his head with the hood, contemplating whether he should pull the sleeves over his hands or not. Ultimately, he decides against it, crawling from under the covers and into III's lap. They welcome him with open arms, stroking a gentle thumb over Vessel's cheek when the other rests his head on III's thigh. "Better?" III asks, thanking II in Vessel's stead quietly.

The only response he receives from Vessel is a timid nod while he cinches up the hood of his hoodie tightly. III's arms comes to rest over Vessel's shoulder, hand hanging limply onto the bed. Their hands do no stray, do not wander where Vessel has asked them not to. He is thankful that they're so strangely willing to listen to him.

III continues stroking over Vessel's cheek, hand warm against Vessel's cool skin. III doesn't care that tears smear against his thumb, not when Vessel is allowing the touch.

"Would you like to speak about your nightmare, Ves? You don't- Ves, honey you don't have to!"

Before II has even finished his sentence, the bond is flooding with fear. Shaking his head profusely, Vessel curls into himself, hands clutched tightly over his chest. "Ves, love, please don't hide from us. I'm not going to force you to tell us anything." II tries, letting a sigh of relief spill when Vessel slowly lets a bit of the bond bleed back into focus.

The distance between them had been frightening, no matter how close they were physically. That distance Sleep had forced between them during their set the day before had been frightening, too, bit it was out of all of their control. Sometimes, II wonders if the bonds are just strings, an easy way for the God to puppeteer them at His whim. Or chains, perhaps. They are bound to him, after all. Sleep could take away His gift at any time, if the God saw fit, II is sure.

"Don't shut us out, please. Take all the time you need to calm down. We'll be here." III leans down to press a kiss onto Vessel's hood, their hand never losing the tenderness.

Vessel is so grateful to them. He needs them to know that, and so he tells them in the easiest way he knows how, by sending it down the bond. The warm affection he receives makes him cry harder, letting their love for him chase away his fearful thoughts, for now.

The terror has lessened with the others comfort, his tears abating eventually. Vessel is left tired, as if he had never slept at all. He doesn't want to go back to the way things were in the beginning, when he was afraid to touch and be touched. He wants things to remain as they are, he wants to trust that they won't hurt him without nightmares and plain old fear getting in his way. Vessel wants to believe they won't leave, if they find out what he is lacking. He doesn't, but he wants to. He wants so many selfish things...

"We're going home." II announces, moving to stand, "I'll call Nick back-"

"I still want to go on our date." Vessel says, voice hoarse, his eyes peeking out from under the cinched hood of his hoodie.

"You do?" II asks, a mix of concerned and surprised, eyebrows raising up to his hairline.

Vessel looks like a mess, beautiful even now, but a mess nonetheless. Exhaustion weighs heavy on his shoulders, purplish eyebags under his eyes and a frown trying to pull at one corner of his lips.

"Yes. Is... is that okay? Can we still go?" Vessel goes quieter, II only able to hear him due to the more advanced hearing they all have.

"Vessel, I only said we were going home out of concern for you. I didn't think you were feeling up to it." Frowning, II tries not to tap his fingers against his thigh anxiously.

"He says he wants to go, II. I think we should listen to him." III says, glancing between the two of them with slightly wide eyes.

II takes a moment to stare into Vessel's eyes, feeling fond when Vessel manages to keep the eye contact for a few seconds.

"You're sure, sweetheart?" II asks, blue eyes as soft as his words.

"I'm sure." Vessel states firmly, nodding his head.

"Alright, only because you said you want to. But if at any point you want to leave, we will, no questions asked."

Vessel smiles lopsidedly. Its hidden behind his hoodie, but his eyes crinkling at the edges is telling enough for II and III. "Mhm! Thank you..."

"You don't have to thank me, sweetheart." II remarks, leaning down to press a kiss on the visible sliver of Vessel's face, right over an eyelid.

"I want to, though. You didn't have to do this..."

II hmphs in amusement, dimple appearing with his smile, "Do what, Ves? Set up a date for my two beautiful boyfriends so I can see them all dressed up and hopefully, happy? It's no trouble and I'm more than glad to do this."

Vessel turns his head to try and hide, embarrassed, but it doesn't work very well. Remnants of tears are still drying on his cheeks as a comfortable silence seems to settle over them. III breaks in with a carefully controlled exclamation, "Oh, that reminds me, Ves, can I do your makeup!?"

Nervousness ripples at the edges of the bond as Vessel contemplates his answer, removing his hood. He takes a close look up at III, then over at II. They're both wearing makeup, he realizes with a start, face flushing at how ethereal they look. Mascara has made both II and III's eyes pop, the eyeliner bringing out the pretty blue of their eyes. Their respective piercings only add to the look, III's large, sharp wing suiting them well.

"I don't mind doing it myself. I used to wear a bit of makeup a long time ago." Vessel offers, not wanting to trouble III with it.

"You can do it yourself if you want to!" III reassures, shyly adding on, "I did want to do it for you though. If you don't want me touching you to apply it, I'd understand."

"No, I... You can do it. I want you to, if you want to."

With ease, II lifts Vessel up enough to put his head on II's lap instead, III immediately hopping up to go get their makeup bag. Excitement bounces along the bond, causing Vessel's nervous smile to widen into something more positive, more loving.

"Is it alright if I straddle you, Ves? I want a good angle to do your eyeliner." III asks when they return, waving a pillow in one hand while the other holds their makeup bag, "I kind of wanted to... uh-"

III fumbles, a little red in the face suddenly, "I would like to be close to you that way, while I do your makeup. I've thought about it... a lot more than I would like to admit. If that's too much for you right now, though, I understand."

Vessel's brain seems to stop operating all together, all at once. The thought of III atop him, straddling him, so close... their hair would fall to frame their face, pretty blue eyes staring down at Vessel... he wants that. The fact that III had thought about the scenario often...

Then he thinks of his nightmare, and the interest that had been growing is muddled immediately.

"If you want to, I don't mind." Vessel agrees, clearly nervous by the prospect of having III atop him but sitting up to move to the middle of the bed anyway.

II remains where he is, gentle gaze flicking between III and Vessel fondly. Vessel is almost apprehensive in his movements. He's undecided on whether to be nervous or eager.

Vessel takes the pillow as its offered, clutching it over his chest tightly as III crawls onto the bed. Carefully, III lowers themselves over Vessel's waist, thighs on either side of his hips. The long skirt he's wearing pools around them, fabric scrunching where their bodies meet. The sight leaves Vessel wanting... but-

His dream with Four is lingering heavily at the forefront of his mind, causing anxiety no matter how hard he tries to rid himself of it. Is he not allowed to have a moment of peace where he isn't afraid of his secrets becoming known?

"Mind if I hold your jaw? It would be easier for me. If not, that's okay, hun." III asks, trying his hardest not to let his own excitement overshadow Vessel's known insecurities and triggers.

"Go ahead. I... I trust you." Vessel responds, smiling into the kiss III leans down to smother him with.

Vessel tries to ignore the underlying arousal as III pulls away, but stays leaned over him to begin applying a bit of black eyeshadow, his hand so gentle where it's cupping his jaw. He doesn't want sex right now, but if the others want it, he will. He won't mind. They're always so gentle, it won't hurt. He trusts they won't hurt him, even if he wouldn't mind if they did. Vessel will take anything they offer, be it pain or affection.

Shaking his head lightly, Vessel tries to rid himself of the thought. II and III do not use him. They don't. They've- They make sure he feels good too. It isn't only take, they give as much as they get. As Vessel's mind wanders down that trail of thought, he wonders if they are simply kinder in their use of him. He doesn't mind the thought.

He is glad when II speaks, pulling Vessel's thoughts from beginning to spiral into anxiety over how his mind wars with itself over his past and present.

"No funny business. We've got places to be today. Wait until we get home." II orders, leaving no room for argument.

"Of course. I would never cause problems." III says, grinning widely under the scrutinizing, dry stare II tosses at them.

"You and I are his biggest problems." Vessel jokes, trying to appear as if he isn't closely watching for the others' reactions, as if he isn't more nervous to make a mistake than he has been in ages.

"He loves us though! Don't you, Doll? You'd be so bored without us to keep you on your toes." III agrees, so excited about the joke Vessel had attempted that they're nearly vibrating in place.

III squirms, trying to turn to see whatever expression II is making. The friction is delicious, Vessel squeezing the pillow to try and rid himself of the tension slowly building up his body. III is so beautiful above him, hair left loose except for a long braid behind one ear.

"I'd be absolutely miserable without you." II grins, and while its a wide thing showcasing human teeth, there's a soft, adoring edge to it, and Vessel is absolutely enamored by the view he's receiving.

III continues working, concentration furrowing his brow. Vessel closes his eyes when asked, opens them when asked, trusting III not to make him into some sort of clown. The right

III is heavy atop him, a welcome weight as Vessel's deep blush is met fondly. III's hands are steady as he draws a long, sharp wing, hot breath fanning over Vessel's face.

"Gonna make you prettier, beautiful. People are going to fall at your feet begging for a glance from your pretty eyes."

Vessel's turns more red, unable to escape or hide, unable to move for fear of messing up III's carefully applied work. His next words are mumbled, carefully enunciated so his face moves as little as possible, "Your praise is not helping."

"Oh, I can tell." III smirks, pausing to kiss the tip of Vessel's nose.

Large hands settle on III's hips when they shift to get a certain angle right. Vessel lets out a breathy little sound, caught in his throat from where he tries to stop it from escaping. Just to hear more, III grinds down again, receiving the same reaction only slightly more whiny. Vessel stifles the anxiety bubbling under the surface of his skin, desperate to please the others. If he's good, they won't leave him. Besides, it does feel good. It always feels good, if it's them.

"Boys." II's reprimand is sharp, causing both of them to freeze in place.

There's a pout on III's plush lips, a gentle hand moving to caress Vessel's cheek at the fear beginning to fester in the bond. Vessel swipes the fear away quickly, trying to keep the others from feeling anything negative from him. If III wants sex, Vessel will give it to him.

"No funny business." III recalls, voice mocking as he tries to emulate the timber of II's own voice.

"Good boy. I don't think we should be letting Ves do anything strenuous. He must be tired, remember?"

Vessel feels immediate relief, trying not to hide it but also feeling as if he should hide that specific emotion from them. He's been utterly exhausted since the ritual, minor aches still present in his chest. III's weight has strained his ribs, but Vessel has kept that well away from the bond. Has kept it from his own awareness intentionally. Seeing III like this above him is well worth the bits of aching pain that sometimes strikes through a rib or two when III shifts their weight.

"Ves, you should have told me to stop." III levels guilty eyes back on Vessel, who stares back just as guilty, both for differing reasons.

"Can't- I can't." Vessel admits, the words like ash on his tongue, forced out like pulling teeth. "You are not them and yet... I can't."

III looks crestfallen, tears beading at the corners of their eyes. Any bits of happiness that had been in their bonds have all been snuffed out. He sits up, beginning to pull his hand away and Vessel whines, desperately reaching his own hand up to hold III's hand on his cheek.

Vessel's ruined everything.

He wants to cry, to dig a blade into his skin anywhere he can reach to punish himself for fucking things up. He shouldn't have said anything, Vessel should have kept his mouth shut and let them do whatever they wanted to him despite his discomfort with the idea of sex right now. To think he hasn't even told them that he still hurts.

"My apologies." He mumbles, hesitantly reaching out to take III's now unoccupied hands. "I did not mean to make you cry."

III is still warm and heavy above him, both of them half-hard. III lifts one of Vessel's hands up to kiss his knuckles delicately, reverently. Each one is worshipped before III moves on to Vessel's fingertips.

Spreading his fingers out, Vessel dares to reach a little further up and splay his hand across III's cheek. III's sigh, whether of sadness or contentment, sends shivers down Vessel's spine as it spills over his cold skin.

"Its okay, Ves." III murmurs in response, II shuffling closer, his knee grazing against III's thigh.

"I know we've said this before, but you can say no. Neither of us will be upset with you for not wanting sex. It's not a requirement in our relationship, just a bonus, okay?" III needs to stop being so gentle with Vessel, he loves and loathes it.

In lieu of answering, eager to move past this, Vessel turns his head and bites onto III's hand, moving it closer for his teeth to reach. Human teeth do not leave more than faint red marks on III's flesh, but he receives the reaction he wanted anyway. III's smiles, smaller than Vessel had hoped for.

"We'll get through to you on it eventually, but I'll accept your attempts at ending that particular line of conversation, for now." II huffs, not quite amused, not quite annoyed.

Vessel is a little apprehensive, releasing III's palm from between his teeth. Is II upset with him?

"Bite me next, sweetheart?" II asks, taking joy in the way Vessel's nervous expression shifts into something brighter, a spark coming back to his eyes.

"Where?" He whispers, the hand cupping III's cheek falling to rest against a thigh, holding onto the other man as if he'll disappear if Vessel doesn't keep him within reach.

Offering up his arm, biceps on full display due to the tank top II is wearing, II points at the meat of his bicep, almost on the underside, "How about right here, once III is finished with you?"

II then grins mischeviously, a smile Vessel feels he picked up from III, "I'll take a kiss right now, though, if you're up to it."

Vessel sits up as best as he can, one hand making grabby motions without care for how his shoulder twinges in protest. III starts to get off of him, but the hand on his thigh splays out and grips, meaning to keep III in place. Vessel nips gently at II's lower lip, relishing in the warm hand II slips into his hair. The kiss is slow and languid, II taking his time tasting Vessel just the same as Vessel himself is doing. There is no rush, no frenzy of passion, only worship through colliding lips.

"My turn, my turn!" III exclaims childishly, taking great pleasure in the mockingly aggrieved look II sends their way as he and Vessel reluctantly part.

Vessel's little grin is contagious, II stealing it with one last peck. II turns his head, reaching out to pull III into a kiss before the other can process what's happening. II is more rough with III, but no less loving, tongue swiping over III's lower lip in search of entrance into their mouth.

Vessel watches, fascinated, at how differently II handles him and III while never losing that adoring tenderness. He flexes his hand, still holding III's thigh, and slowly trails it down to rest easily on their knee. III is still straddling them, just as Vessel wanted, remaining close just as Vessel wanted. Though clothes limit their touch, he relishes in the warmth seeping through to his skin.

Vessel wants to hold them, wrap his arms around them, be so close that they all meld into one being. Instead, he watches their dance of tongues and yearns for something he cannot give himself or them.

II gently pulls III's head back by his hair, forcing them to part. "Enough now, pretty. Give Ves a kiss and then we'll finish up. It's almost time for us to leave."

III lets out a sound between a whine and a sigh, pretty blue eyes falling to meet Vessel's own. II doesn't release their hair, and III glances down at Vessel in confusion.

"So you don't get ahead of yourself, Three, I'll be keeping my hand right here. I won't pull hard enought to hurt at any point. Is that alright?" II asks, always seeking to keep them comfortable.

"Mm. That's fine, Doll." III nods, not minding how the action tugs at his scalp.

Slowly, II pushes III down until he and Vessel are nearly face to face, noses a hairs breadth apart. Then, II makes III wait, and in doing so, makes Vessel wait. For a moment, no one says or does anything, the tension slowly building between all three of them. Finally, II pushes III's head forward and he eagerly takes Vessel's lips with their own. Their hand finds Vessel's, clasping their fingers together. Ever eager, III immediately tries to devour Vessel, all hot tongue and claiming lips.

Before III can get really into it, II is pulling them back by the hair, ordering, "Take your time with him. Savor what Ves is gifting us."

Whining, III nods, desperate to put his mouth back on Vessel's. Hungry blue eyes take in the human dilation of Vessel's pupils, the faint flush spreading to the tips of his rounded ears. Dark hair is messy, curling at the edges from sleep, with still wet lashes from when he had been crying earlier.

"Please, sir, I'll be good. I'll be so good, just- let me taste him-" III shivers, not missing the way arousal suddenly surges through the shared bond.

The hand in III's hair tightens its grip marginally, and then II is releasing him entirely.

It surprises III enough that he doesn't move an inch for a few long seconds, but he gets over it quickly, slotting their lips back with Vessel's as though it's the last time he'll be given the chance.

III is slower this time, more careful, a languid swipe of his tongue against Vessel's bottom lip, a gentle nip to pull on bitten, chapped flesh. Kissing Vessel can be a little challenging with the others' penchant for grinning widely or smiling sweetly into them, but III wouldn't have it any other way. It's such an endearing thing to do and III loves him so much...

"Enough now." II orders, breathing labored as he pulls III away from Vessel, "If we don't stop now, I won't be letting Three out of the bed for a long time yet."

"That was fucking hot. I'm so turned on right now." III mumbles, eyes wide and dazed as their hand squeezes Vessel's own.

"I may have allowed you to get yourself off but I told you no funny business and you didn't listen." II mocks, smugly licking his lips to gather the faint taste of his lovers, "And you even dragged poor Ves into it. I know he's irresistible but I told you no."

"Aw, that's no fair." III pouts, perfectly aware that he disobeyed an order. "If you were in my position, you'd be struggling, too."

"Now you know that's not true, my love. I have impeccable restraint." II hasn't lost even an ounce of that smugness, knocking his shoulder into III's arm gently.

"Didn't show a lot of restraint when we finally had Ves moanin' for us." III smiles again, widely with teeth, baring them in challenge.

II looks away deliberately, a blush spreading from his cheeks down his neck. III's grin grows impossibly wider, victorious.

"Finish up here, Three. No kisses for two days." II states, leaning over to give Vessel a quick peck on the lips before getting off the bed entirely.

III gasps, one hand splayed over their chest. For a moment, Vessel thinks III is seriously upset, but the pleased little glimmer of emotion in the bond shows otherwise. Vessel doesn't understand it, but III seems to enjoy the punishments given.

So he works up the courage to ask.

Once II has wandered off to change clothes, Vessel brings it up while III fixes a smudged bit of under eye makeup on Vessel.

"Why do you not mind the punishments you receive? He does not hurt you, but I still don't- understand?" Vessel hopes he worded it alright, trying to keep himself from tilting his head naturally to the side with his confusion.

III's smile turns muted, small, dull. It doesn't suit him, it makes their face dim, like the light of the sun has gone out. Vessel hates that he put it there by asking such a stupid question-

"I trust him." III responds quietly, gently dabbing the tip of the eyeliner brush at the inner corner of one of Vessel's eyes.

It's a struggle to keep from flinching away with every touch, but Vessel manages. He stares resolutely at the beauty mark beside III's eye instead of attempting to hold eye contact with III while they work.

"Two has always made everything very clear to me. He has never hurt me, always listened to what I've said. I do not feel ignored or like my wants don't matter. The punishments I receive are small, mildy annoying things at worst, and at best, simple tasks or minor things withheld. II... he makes me feel safe, and loved, and I trust him with my body and needs."

"I don't remember the whole experience well, but I used to not be allowed to eat dinner if I made a mistake or was too loud back at the adoption home I was placed in. I preferred being forced to be absolutely silent over not being able to eat. "

Vessel's face twists into a pained grimace, devastated over the life III must have led before Sleep. III's face twists into further concentration, struggling to remember. The memories are neither good nor bad, a grey area that makes them easier to recall with single minded focus, with enough effort.

"The only dom I ever had was nice at first, but strict. A lot like II, perhaps, not as fun. Didn't love me like he does, either, but I wasn't in it for the romance, with him. He was more inclined to refusing basic needs when I was too bratty, always thought I talked too much, too. Reminded me the most of my childhood compared to any other flings I had."

Vessel plots murder in his mind, protective, possessive rage fizzling under his skin. III soothes it with a gentle pat against Vessel's cheek, the tender touch smoothing out the rough edges into something more manageable. Vessel has time and a means of killing that asshole off, if III will allow it. "No murder. I vaguely remember he got his shit together after a different brat kicked his ass for trying to pull the same shit."

Vessel visibly wilts, but agrees quietly.

"I appreciate the intent though, my love."

III continues, brushing a bit of highlighter over Vessel's cheekbones even if it potentially won't be seen, "I think I was in a lot of online forums before Sleep? I have vague recollections of talking to other queer people and figuring out labels I never would have learned on my own in my shitty, backwards town. The elderly woman at the thrift store was the first person to accept me, for me, after I figured out who I was and wanted to be. It's.... it's hard to remember much of my time with her because it was some of my happiest moments and Sleep took so much from me."

"I know I just continued to ramble after answering your question, I'm sorry. If you want me to be quiet, I will."

"No. I want to hear you, the sound of your voice, your laugh... your moans. I want to hear all of it for as long as you'll allow me the pleasure." Vessel says, no more than a whisper.

III leans back, a blush flaming across his face, closing his makeup bag and taking in his work. Sharp, black eyeliner juts out from Vessel's eyes, the style matching his eye shape. Inner corner points are mostly even, and mascara used to further darken Vessel's already dark eyelashes.

"You look so fucking ethereal, Sugar. Thank you for letting me do your makeup. Wanna kiss you so bad." III juts their lower lip out, continuing to pout as they had earlier.

Its an endearing expression, with his wide, pretty blue eyes and his beauty marks. "You reckon he'll extend the time for no kissing or not let me cum for a week?"

"I'd keep quiet if I were you, sweetheart, you're giving me ideas." II sings from the other side of the room, slipping a black tank top on, having been listening the whole time.

III laughs, leaning down to nuzzle his nose into Vessel's cheek in place of a kiss before climbing off him. Vessel misses the weight immediately, even if his sore ribs immediately feel relief. Vessel follows III up, discarding the pillow to the side and reaching out to take III's hand. "You didn't deserve anything that happened to you." Vessel states, feeling a little strange for reiterating what they seem to tell Vessel himself so often.

"That's why I left the adoption home when I was of age and why I dumped that piece of shit dom I had. I realized how much of a dickwad he really was, and left him. I didn't deserve any of it, even if sometimes, somewhere in my heart where faint memories linger, I feel like I did."

Vessel longs for his mask, in that moment. To hide behind the solid material, to keep III from seeing how some twisted sense of realization seems to physically slam into Vessel, stealing his unneeded breath.

"Ves?" III asks softly, cupping his jaw with a tenderness Vessel doesn't deserve.

Or... does he? Does he deserve to have good things, does he deserve the other vessels? Did he deserve everything that led him to Sleep?

Did he?

In this moment, about to go on a date with his lovers who mean more than the world to him, Vessel doesn't want to think about it... but-

"I'm fine, Three. I'm going to get dressed, thank you for doing my makeup. You look beautiful." Vessel says while stepping away from the hand on his cheek, and though he means it, its a clear attempt at exiting the conversation.

III watches as Vessel goes to dig around in his duffel bag, sharing a weighted glance with II. The other man shakes his head, a small smile pulling at his lips. III understands. They'll leave it be, for now. Someday, Vessel will realize he didn't deserve a fucking thing that has happened to him, Before Sleep, or After. It is not an easy realization for someone who has been hurt so severely.

They all finish getting ready quickly. Vessel finishes tucking in his billowing black shirt into the waistband of his skinny jeans, and while he does so, he takes note of what the other two are wearing. III's long skirt, loose with ruffles at the hem, is a pastel blue to match their hair. A black shirt with bell-like sleeves, one of Vessel's, is hanging off their less broad frame, with black socks and their sneakers. II has on a form fitting tank top, tucked into a pair of black cargo pants. His silver necklace is the only accessory other than his piercings, unlike III who has a choker around their neck to offset their own piercings. III takes a few minutes to braid bits of Vessel's hair, and then up into his usual half up, half down style. The braids match III's, a detail that doesn't escape Vessel's notice. It makes him surprisingly happy to see that they match.

Just as Vessel thinks they're going to leave, II stops them at the door. "Forget something, pretty?" II croons, very slowly caging Vessel against the door.

He makes sure to give Vessel ample time to move aside or ask him to stop. Vessel grows nervous at the attention, at the position, biting his lip even as he eyes up the thick bicep's caging him in.

"Oh~ We almost forgot II's request!" III smirks, leaning his elbow flat on II's head.

It ruins the sensual approach II was going for, and II glares lightly up at them.

"Oh, don't look at me like that, Doll. You were making him nervous! Coming at him with those delicious muscles on full display."

II glances back at Vessel, intending to see for himself. He finds Vessel staring at his biceps, eyes wide. There are hints of arousal in the bond from all three of them, though II knows Vessel likely doesn't want to do anything about it.

"Gonna bite me, sweetheart?" II says, leaning in closer, smile turning playful as III lifts their weight from his head. "I do so love your teeth on me."

Vessel's taller frame slowly moves closer, leaning down into II's personal space. Nervously, he places his mouth over the curve of a muscle, grazing his teeth along the skin. II shudders, leaning closer, his hair tickling Vessel's jaw and ear. The height difference is clear, like this, II so small beneath him even though the shorter man is the one caging him in.

It... does something to Vessel, to see II like this.

He opens his mouth, and sinks his teeth in to the meat of II's bicep. II moans, a shiver wracking through his whole body.

For a brief moment, Vessel has the strangest thought of reversing their positions. It's banished before it can fully form. Vessel would never dare. II wouldn't want it, and Vessel would never dare.

"Christ on a bike." III mumbles, finding themselves weak in the knees.

II chokes out a laugh, startled. "Where in the fuck did you hear that- Shit."

As II is speaking, Vessel releases his arm from between his teeth and moves up towards his shoulder, biting in deeper there. Not hard enough to break skin, but the indents will last a few minutes at least. Perhaps it will bruise, and Vessel can look at it longingly until it fades, can revel in guilty satisfaction at what II has allowed (asked) him to do.

Vessel pulls away, fearing for his secrets safety, realizing just how close he and II have become. Boldly, he presses a kiss onto II's forefead, face heating with a blush at the desire filled look in II's eyes.

There's something else, too. Surprise, adoration. Vessel had just kissed him first, after all. Even if it was only on the forehead. II could count on half a hand the amount of times that has happened, and basks in how happy it makes him.

II lets Vessel loose from the cage of his arms, rubbing a hand over his face with a disgruntled huff, "Okay, we need to go. I won't be able to stand a minute more of you both looking this pretty while we have some semblance of privacy."

Vessel can feel his face grow warmer, pale skin going pink as a lopsided smile tries to make an appearance. Without any more preamble, Vessel reaches back and twists the doorknob to their hotel room. II lets him escape without a fuss, running reverent fingers over the stinging bite marks then following behind III after making sure he has his wallet and room key.

Nick is leaning against Vessel's car when they leave the hotel, nearly to the butt end of his cigarette. He offers one to II as he shoves off the car, but II politely declines.

III makes note of the longing in the bond with distaste, trying to keep II from feeling it. They really hope II keeps to his promise.

"Well, aren't you a fancy bunch. Sure I can't tag along?" Nick's voice is warm, kind, smiling around his cigarette even as he eyes the bruising bite stark against the pale skin of II's bicep.

Vessel stiffens, moving to hide a bit behind III to avoid Nick even seeing him, or him from seeing Nick. He really doesn't want Nick to go with them.

"Maybe some other time, I'm sorry. If this weren't a date, I'd be all for you coming along." II apologizes, smile bordering on kind, and Vessel isn't surprised that the emotions the others feel towards Nick are genuine.

They're friends with him, somewhat, it's only Vessel who has a problem.

"It's almost noon, Two." III points out, and II is quick to give their farewells.

Nick says something about maybe going off to explore, or maybe just sticking around the hotel room but Vessel doesn't care to listen keenly, eager to leave the other man behind. Hiding in the car, Vessel fiddles with his phone as the others give farewell pleasantries. The message from Terzo stares back at him, left on Read.

As he's thinking over a reply, II and III get in the car. III immediately starts fiddling with the radio, digging through Vessel's cd collection. The Poison by Bullet For My Valentine is III's pick, and Vessel finds it in himself to smile a little wider at the choice, turning his attention back down to his phone.

How did Terzo know? How? Did Omega find out and tell him? Did they tell II and III? No. No, they couldn't have. There is no way that the others would still be here with him, treating him so kindly, loving him, if they knew he had no heart.

Vessel deletes the message from Terzo about his heart, electing to answer the first part.

(Terzo Emeritus)

Vessel: Thank you, and Omega, for helping me yesterday. I appreciate the kindness you have shown. It was a pleasure meeting you, and if I have any questions, I will ask as you have offered.

Pleased with his formal writing, Vessel sends the message and sets his phone down when II begins to drive. He doesn't mind being in the backseat as much, now that Nick isn't with them. III keeps engaging him in conversation, not minding when Vessel answers quietly, or merely nods or shakes his head to show he's listening.

The bond is buzzing with Vessel's excitement, the anxiety warring with the positive emotion for control. It leaves Vessel feeling a little ill by the time they park, seeking out one of the others hands for comfort. The aquarium is a large building, grey in color with spots of ocean-themed murals along the more expansive sections.

II pulls him closer as III takes Vessel's other hand, paying for the tickets. Inside is a throng of people all gathered around the gift shop and some of the smaller exhibits and directory signs. II hands over a black surgical face mask from one of his many pockets, and when III asks when he found the time to ask for one of those, II shrugs, waving his hand vaguely in the direction of the ticketbooth. Vessel slips it on, making sure his earrings and hair aren't caught beneath the strings, and immediately feels more secure. He'd felt exposed without his mask, and this has helped.

All three of them take a moment to briefly look around, and then Vessel gasps softly, pulling the other two forward toward one of the directory signs. He lifts II's hand up with his own to point out one of the exhibits.

"A jellyfish exhibit!" He exclaims, blue eyes gray in the lighting, like a sea overshadowed by a gathering storm.

"Do you want to head there first, then?" II smiles, taking in how lively Vessel is already, and they've only just arrived.

"Can we?" Vessel turns wide, bright eyes onto II, grinning beneath his face mask.

Though his smile itself is hidden from them, it still crinkles the edges of Vessel's human eyes. He looks absolutely ethereal with his sharp black eyeliner with the bit of blue glitter II has put at the inner corners to highlight the little wings there, too. His hair is pulled back into its usual style, now with two little braids in front of his pierced ears. Framing pieces of hair had been left out, and he's utterly adorable. II and III are absolutely enamored.

The jellyfish exhibit is a large room, with a wall of glass on one side. Behind the glass are yellow-orange jellyfish, sea nettles if Vessel remembers correctly. They're large, floating about inside their huge tank. Smaller tanks are strewn about the room, with different types of jellyfish in each. Vessel knows some jellyfish eat other species of themselves, so it makes sense. Murals take up the expanse of the other walls, of jellyfish in the ocean and silly cartoon sea creatures. In the middle of the room sits a floor to ceiling cylinder of water filled with moon jellies, all leisurely swimming as people ogle them and their beauty.

Vessel opens his mouth to gush about the moon jellies as he drags II and III closer by the hand, but shuts it as he seems to wilt. He knows they don't mind too much if he rambles, but... the fear that they will grow annoyed with him remains ever present.

"Hey Ves, what kind of jellyfish is this?" III asks, grinning when Vessel visibly perks up.

As Vessel moves to speak, II mouths, "Good job."

"They're moon jellies! They can make themselves about half their size if there isn't enough food around, and will grow back to regular size when more food is available! They're primarily preyed upon by sea turtles-!"

II and III listen fondly as Vessel continues to ramble out facts about jellyfish, not just the moon jellies. He drifts over to the sea nettles, explaining how depending on their home region, can be minorly or severely dangerous based on someone's sensitivity to their sting. 

Eventually, they finish in the jellyfish exhibit room after no small amount of time. Vessel had gone on and on about each type in all of their respective tanks, enjoying himself to an extent the other vessels aren't sure they've ever seen. It makes them feel so... in love. And proud. Proud of how far he's come.

"Hey, Two, Ves, want a picture?" III asks, holding up their phone as they're all just looking up at the glass wall separating them from the jellyfish, right before they leave. 

"Up for a picture, sweetheart?" II looks up to Vessel, and when he receives a quiet affirmation, II pulls them over to a less crowded spot while III follows, readying his phone camera.

Vessel stands awkwardly, not sure what to do, as II moves them both into position, facing each other.

"Okay, in three, two, one-!"

II reaches up on his toes, pulling Vessel's face mask down and kissing him, cupping his jaw on either side so gently it brings tears to Vessel's eyes. II fixes Vessel's mask after he pulls away, settling back down onto his feet properly.

III comes over to show them the picture, pouting about not getting a candid photo of kiss too. II grumbles in good fun, leaning over to kindly ask a young goth couple to take a photo of them. 

Breaking the rule he'd set, II kisses III the same way, the girlfriends taking the photo hooting and hollering. 

"One more photo." II calls, pulling Vessel to their sides, "Alright, now pose."

Knowing he must look a fool, Vessel simply smiles, doing a little peace sign. III strikes some full body pose from II's other side, while II merely leans his head on Vessel's arm, hands clasped together. The girls give III his phone back, commenting on how cute they all are and then walking off, hand in hand. III shows them the photo and then sends all of them to the group chat. Vessel sets the one with II as his lock screen, and after a bit more tapping, the group one as his homescreen. After that, they move on through the penguin enclosure, where Vessel tries not to frown too harshly. Downtrodden, he asks to go to a different area pretty quickly.

Vessel had been excited, at first. He still is, to an extent. Happy that II and III brought him, had thought of him to such an extent, but...

He can't help but think back to how listless the penguins had looked, in their boring enclosure with nothing to look at but gray walls and ice, and the relentless calls and noises from humans staring at them through the glass separating them. Vessel may not know what it's like to have a home (he won't admit the truth to himself. He can't- He's afraid-), but he can sympathize with the pain of being taken from it. The only place Vessel had felt at home in, Before, was down in the ocean, sinking with the weight of stones in his pockets as his lungs screamed for air and his body fought his heart to swim back to the surface. He'd worn his heaviest clothes and boots, knowing it would only help him achieve his goal. Fish had swam by, a small coral reef leaving scrapes and cuts when he'd hit it after finally sinking deep enough. The light of the moon had been bright, then, and utterly beautiful. His body still struggled, but his heart, his mind, had finally, finally felt peace.

They move on to the shark exhibit at III's insistence, trying to lighten the suddenly somber mood that has befallen Vessel. The First perks up, having a love of sharks, but the sight of one of the grey reef sharks swimming with a bit of difficulty alongside some seabass, ruined III's good intentions.

"What's wrong sweetheart, why are you sad?" II questions, pulling Vessel in close, arms brushing against each other.

"They were all taken from their homes. All the creatures we saw today." Vessel frowns, eyes a little misty, "The sign says that this shark was hurt so they brought it here for recovery, but... the scar looks like it was from something man-made. We did this to it, took it from its home after we hurt it."

"We didn't do this to it, honey. I know someone else did, and I despise that we as a species are so prone to cruelty, but they're trying to heal it, here. Look, this other sign says they'll release it once it's healthy enough. It'll go back home soon enough."

Nodding, Vessel squeezes II's hand, seeking comfort without wanting to ask for it. "Next time we'll go to a sanctuary!" III breaks right out with it, desperate to bring some semblance of that joy back to the bond.

"There might be one near home." II adds, nodding, "They treat their animals better, usually, and are more likely to actually release them when they're healed up."

"You would do that for me?" Vessel whispers, surprised like the first time, like every time they show him an ounce of consideration.

"I would do anything for you." II replies firmly, pressing a soft, adoring kiss to Vessel's temple.

Vessel doesn't realize the truth in that statement. II isn't sure he ever will, but that's alright.

"If you decided one day that the sun was too bright or something, I'd find a way to take it out of the sky." III chimes in, completely serious.

Vessel gapes, "That would have severe environmental effects-"

"It's the sentiment, Sugar. If you asked me to do something impossible, I'd find a way, no matter what, for you. Because you mean that much to me, to us." III grins so widely their cheeks surely must hurt from the strain.

Vessel grins, eyes wet, nodding in lieu of a verbal answer. He's overwhelmed by the love they're showing him, by that tender emotion flowing so gently down the bond.

"Can we head to the giftshop next? We passed it on the way in and there was something I wanted to check out." III says, bouncing on the balls of their feet.

There's an excited gleam in his eyes, uncontainable.

"Shouldn't we wait until we're about to leave?" II counters, a little confused.

"There's a plushie I want to get Ves and I really want to get it now before all of these little kids buy out their entire stock." III says, entirely serious, then brings out the wide eyes and simpering expression to beg, "Please?"

"Oh, fine. We'll backtrack if its fine with Ves." II rolls his eyes good naturedly, turning to look up at Vessel for his decision.

Vessel nods, not really minding either way. He's content to follow the others around, even though they have been following him around. Rubbing an eye, Vessel struggles to stifle his yawn. He's still utterly exhausted from yesterday, the ache in his ribs growing worse as the day wears on. "Do you want to take a break first, honey?" II asks, ever the caretaker.

"No. I'm fine, promise."

II acquiesces, and they continue on. They make their way back to the front area of the aquarium, holding hands the entire way. Any rude look receives a fierce glare from II, the shortest of them shooting daggers into any bigoted asshole that wants to be shitty. They're holding hands, not fucking on the aquarium floor. The giftshop is larger than some of the exhibit rooms, dedicated to many different kinds of merch, ranging from t-shirts, to mugs and keychains, to plushies and child-friendly scientific kits or home aquariums.

"Do you have a preference for a plushie, Ves? You don't have to pick the one I have in mind." III says, suddenly nervous, picking at his nail polish.

"Pick whatever you want. My plague doctor was a gift from II. It is... nice, to be thought of. To have a gift chosen for me."

III lights up, the sun returned to his eyes, bounding off with a promise to return thrown over their shoulder. II stays close, keeping a tight hold of Vessel's hand as he leads him through the store. Vessel tries to keep track of III, anxious for him to be so far away. Rows of plushies are lined up against a back wall, the opposite direction of III who is currently staring down a child who wants one of the plushies somewhere up front. Vessel watches as II scans over the rows with a discerning eye, taking great care in reaching out and feeling the materials of each plushie to see how the texture feels between his fingers.

"Here, Ves, how about this one?" II says, finally, picking out a jellyfish plushie.

It's about the length of Vessel's arm, white in color with two black dots for eyes and a line for a smiley face. Hanging from off of its bottom is the jellyfish arms, a mix of white ribbon and a scrunchy pastel blue material that springs back up when Vessel tentatively stretches out one of the tentacles. It makes him smile, amusement zinging down the bond.

"I take that as a yes, then." II says, longing to hug Vessel or kiss him senseless.

"Guys! Guys! I beat this kid in rock paper scissors, four to five, and got the last one!" III exclaims loudly, excitedly bouncing up beside them with a decently sized shark in hand, triumphant.

Vessel barely flinches, feeling much better than when he woke up. He turns his attention to the shark. It's... comical in expression. With big, beady black eyes, a grey and white body, its mouth is what sets it apart from a typical shark plushie. Its mouth is a half moon shape, lined with sewn in pointed, but blunt, teeth. Its a very round shape, with a floppy dorsal fin, and one of the pectoral fins is misshapen. The caudal fin looks to be about the right shape, but no less floppy than the dorsal.

"It's a little... off looking." III's smile turns sheepish, "But it was the last one and I wasn't about to lose rock, paper, scissors to a ten year old that I challenged."

"You challenged a ten year old to rock, paper, scissors?" II raises an eyebrow, amused.

"And almost lost?" Vessel whispers, taking the shark from III.

"I'll have you know I won in the end, and that's what matters. Besides, that's not the point here. The point is that I got the plushie I wanted to get Vessel! Even if its misshapen." III pouts, tucking a stray strand of hair behind their ear.

"Such a pouty boy today." II gets up on his tiptoes to whisper in Vessel's ear, smile fond but cheeky.

It sends shivers down Vessel's spine, warm breath hot against his cool skin.

"I like the shark." Vessel decides, as III moves to ruffle II's hair out of spite.

"What are you going to name them?"

"Name them?" Vessel tilts his head, puzzled.

"Yeah! You should name them! It's like breathing new life into them, like when we chose our names." III drops their voice down to a little louder than a whisper.

Oh.

Vessel thinks he understands.

"Think on it, Ves. You don't have to name them right now, or today. Whatever you think of will be a good choice because they're yours now." II says, reaching up to cup Vessel's cheek over the face mask.

Nodding, Vessel follows the others towards the front of the shop to pay, struggling to ignore the crying child throwing a tantrum over wanting too many items for the family to pay for. The noise is loud, almost overwhelming, and it causes Vessel's anxiety to spike.

He holds the plushies close, seeking comfort in them while they wait in line to pay. As he's looking around, rubbing a thumb over III's knuckles, something catches his eye on a stand nearby. Vessel glances up at III who is messing around on their phone, and II who is watching him already. II makes a shooing motion, taking the plushies from Vessel, and slowly, he drags III with him to look at what caught his attention.

It's a projector that puts moving underwater images on a wall. Deliberating, but guilty, Vessel weighs his options. He knows the others would just tell him to get it, simply because he wants it. And he does want it. They don't destroy his things either, so it likely won't get broken that way.

He turns to III, holding up the box with one hand wordlessly.

"That's going to look so fucking cool in your room, pretty."

Vessel grins, kissing III's knuckles through his face mask as they go back to where II has moved a bit further up in line. "I'll help you set that up at home if you need me to, Ves. It'll look really nice with your blackout curtains to block out light."

Vessel presses up close to II, keeping hold of III's hand. The line moves slow, but not overtly so. The harried cashier is tired but kind, struggling to man the cash register by himself. II pays, uncaring of the price, though Vessel blanches at the absurdity of it. III reassures him that money doesn't matter today, and Vessel really does try his best to not think of it. 

As they find the nearby directory, Vessel is lost in thought. He thinks he has names picked out, but will the others approve?

"Um, how about Mr. Nibbles? For my shark, and Jello for my jellyfish?" Vessel asks, gently putting Mr. Nibbles in the bag with his new projector. 

He makes sure to pat his head goodbye before II takes the bag from him.

"Those are great names!" III exclaims, II agreeing, more subdued, but no less enthusiastic.

Vessel lights up at II's approval, holding a hand out in hopes II will take it.

He does, clasping their fingers together and bringing their hands up to kiss Vessel's ringed knuckles. Vessel blushes up to his ears, a pretty flush to his cheeks that hasn't seemed to leave the entire time they've been on their date. He really is so happy to be here, despite noticing some less than savory things about the place. Hiding his face in the plush fabric of Jello's cap, Vessel attempts to force the blush from his cheeks. 

"Two, Two, he can't keep getting away with this. He's so cute." There are honest to Sleep tears in Three's eyes as they tug at a beltloop on II's pants.

"And I'm not even allowed to kiss him." III moans out in utter agony, dramatically holding their head in their hands.

"You can kiss him all you want in a couple days, brat. Now, how about we check out the bioluminescent fish exhibits?"

"Can we go back to see the sharks again? I... saw something for a touch pool." Vessel asks, quiet and expecting rejection, quickly trying to correct himself, "We don't have to. We already went so-"

"That's fine. I wanted to take a look at the touch pools too. I chose the aquarium with you in mind, we can do whatever you want to do." II assures, eyes going between the directory and up at Vessel tenderly.

"Alright. If you're sure." Vessel's smile is weak, uncertain, but II takes comfort in the hints of excitement still in the bond.

II takes the lead again, holding Vessel's hand while he holds III's. They might look a little silly: Three grown men linking hands at an aquarium, armed with bags of merchandise. II doesn't spare a single fuck for fools who think they're acting immature or being too public in their affections.

The shark exhibit room is busier than the last time they were there, II's shorter frame helping him navigate through the throngs of people and pulling the other two with him. The touch pool area is thankfully less crowded, with only a few families and their children around.  All three of them lean over into the touch pool area, II setting down their stuff by their feet. III immediately seeks out a cow nose ray, petting over it's brown back gently. II finds a starfish close to the wall of the touch pool, fascinated by how textured their spines feel as another cow nose ray drifts close. 

Vessel is a little more hesitant, gradually sinking his hand down into the water. There's a bamboo shark nearby, tentatively swimming closer. It brushes up against the back of Vessel's hand curiously, then swims away. It comes back quickly enough, nibbling at Vessel's fingers gently, making him laugh quietly. Vessel thinks this is the best part of the day so far, unable to contain the elation flowing smoothly through his veins, thick like honey.

A child splashes the water, her parents pulling her back with exasperated reprimands, familiar on their tongues, as the manta rays scatter. Vessel loses track of time as he pets the sea creatures, gently picking up a starfish to look over before setting it back down. II and III eventually drift away to look over a wayfinding sign, pointing out exhibits they could look at next. They talk back and forth, debating over which of the few are left to go to since they've visited most of the exhibits  already. Vessel stays nearby, seated now on the concrete lip as one arm remains in the water, the other holding Jello. Gentle fingers brush over a bamboo shark pup, eyes wide in wonder as the beautiful creature keeps circling back around for Vessel to pet again. II keeps a careful eye on Vessel, afraid to lose sight him in the growing crowd.

Slowly, more and more of the pups come up to Vessel's hand as he struggles to pet them all and hold his plushie still, a wide smile pulling at his lips. III takes a quick photo before turning back to the conversation they're having with II, undecided on the aviary or the seahorse exhibits.

Around Vessel, children of all ages pet the epaulette sharks and manta rays, laughter and conversations between families quickly becoming overwhelming. It's beginning to make his skin crawl, every little noise causing him to flinch or grimace. Looking around, Vessel stands, shaking his hand off then wiping it on his pants. His sleeve is let back down as he looks around, hoping to find somewhere a little quieter that won't be too far from the others. There are more people around II and III, parents with their unruly children looking over the wayfinder sign, too, and Vessel doesn't feel like going near all of those people. The others would hold his hand if he asked but all of the noise and people would cancel out the comfort.

Another glance around and a sign catches Vessel's eye, as well as the deep blue tunnel under it. It's a water tunnel that apparently leads off to a large room of similar purpose. Already Vessel can see schools of fish swimming past the glass in front of a lone couple in the tunnel, and intrigued, Vessel makes to move that direction before pausing, looking back towards his lovers unsurely.

He adjusts his grip on his plushie, holding Jello closer, running gentle fingers up and down the length of one of her scrunchy blue arms, taking comfort in the action. A child starts screaming, high-pitched and grating, throwing a tantrum over something or other, and Vessel flinches, hunching into himself. He takes a glance at II and III again, finding them thoroughly distracted. 

Vessel stands, and heads in the direction of the water tunnels. He'll only go a few feet in, linger at its entrance so he's within sight. And he does, Vessel stays near the opening, crouched at the glass separating him from kelp and little fish swimming about in their schools. Vessel stands, moving a bit further in to get a better look at some of the larger fish, human eyes struggling in the lighting. 

Vessel is entranced. Beautiful blue waters surround him on all sides, fish of various types swimming in their own respective schools. A hammerhead shark swims leisurely by, Vessel losing sight of it as it goes behind a large structure meant to resemble a corral reef. The lights in the room are meant to look like the audience is underwater, and blue eyes absorb everything around him he can as he slowly spins in a circle.

His soul had died it's true death the day Vessel tried to drown himself in the ocean. He knew a piece of him stayed down under those deep, dark waters. Here, surrounded by fish and stalks of seaweed, the distinct sound of being underwater playing through the speakers, Vessel feels like he finally came home.

He holds his new plushies close, standing smack dab in the middle of the room. No one is around, only him and the blissful calm of the sea as company. He gets a bit lost in it, unaware of the passing of time as he watches the fish swim by.

Unbeknownst to him, Vessel's bond goes distant, fading into the void like his mind.

The peace is shattered by the sound of his name, a desperate call. Vessel blinks, dazed, as his mind is forced to focus.

"Vessel!" The shout reaches Vessel's ears again, and he realizes II is calling for him.

His phone rings incessantly in his pocket, and he reaches to answer it urgently. As he does so, he notices multiple missed calls. How hadn't he heard them?

"Three?" Vessel inquires, a little confused as his head tries to focus on the present.

"Vessel, where are you?!" III's voice over the phone is frantic, laced heavily with emotion as though they are on the verge of tears.

That thought leads Vessel to realizing his face is wet, and there is a tugging on the bond every second or so, trying to get his attention. He pulls taut on it, a means of leading the others to him.

"I followed the signs for um, an underwater room? I'm not sure. It was through some ocean tunnels." Vessel tries to explain, but his voice is frail, as weak as he suddenly feels.

Slipping off his face mask, Vessel tries to wipe away his tears. His hand comes away glistening, wet with the tears he didn't even know he was crying.

"Okay. Okay, II and I are on our way. Stay there, okay, Sugar? Stay there. We'll be right there." III's voice sounds wrecked, and his words feel more to reassure himself than Vessel.

Vessel doesn't need reassuring. He's fine. He is.

He makes his way to the glass separating him from the tranquil waters, placing a hand on the glass, listening to III whisper loudly to II on the other end of the line.

Staring into the glass this close, vision filled with beautiful blue water and little guppies pecking at his fingers through the glass, Vessel feels himself slipping away again. It's quiet here, the only sound are the waves through speakers, static interrupting the peaceful sound every once in a while. 

Vessel wants to go home.

Yet, that place, sinking under the depths, isn't really his home anymore, is it? He's found a new one, he just can't admit it to himself. Fear stays his hand. 

Two pairs of footsteps running towards him fall on deaf ears, his phone hanging loosely at his side in a limp hand. His arms itch, the sensation faint, like the strange feeling of more tears slipping down his cheeks. Free to glide over his skin, salty wet splashes against his shirt, but Vessel doesn't notice. 

"Vessel!" He barely manages to hear II and III, their voices intertwined, only realizing they've finally met up with him when II collides into his back in a hug.

Vessel flails, caught between turning around and pulling away entirely. He settles on turning around, keeping his plushie between them. It doesn't feel like enough, it never does, but Vessel desires what he knows he shouldn't, so he allows them closer than he should. 

"I look away for two seconds and you're gone! You scared the shit out of us, Ves! Please, please don't wander off again." Tears bead at the corners of II's eyes as he pleads with Vessel, wishing for the stuffed animal to be gone, just so he could be close enough to hear Vessel's heartbeat, to know the other man was alive.

The wetness smudges the eyeliner that had remained intact all day, but II still looks beautiful. He always looks beautiful.

Vessel is slowly nodding his agreement without a thought, squeezing II's hand comfortingly, "I didn't mean to worry you,. I'm sorry."

"I know you didn't mean to, honey." II sniffles, uncharacteristically vulnerable.

"Why did you wander off?" III asks, voice small, clutching at Vessel's sleeve like a scared child.

III looks scared, too, wide, wet eyes scanning Vessel for any injuries. "There were so many kids screaming, and everything got really loud. I... I couldn't handle it so I went off to the ocean tunnel area. I only meant to stay at it's entrance, I swear, so I wouldn't lose either of you, but I got distracted by all of the fish and continued." Vessel explains, guilty.

II finds it in himself to laugh, "Of course you got distracted. You at an aquarium must be like a kid in a candy shop. Do you... know why you started to disassociate?"

Vessel's lips pinch beneath his face mask, averting his eyes. "No. Must be because I got overwhelmed."

II knew this would be coming any time now. Vessel hasn't been out around this many people in the entire time II has known him. He knew the other would get overwhelmed eventually, and should have kept a closer eye on him.

Any vulnerability is gone quick enough, snuffed out in replacement of a smile and drying eyes, "Alright, Ves, that makes sense. Do you want to do anything else? There are a few more-"

Vessel wants to go home. He wants to go back to the manor, where he lives with II and III, and he wants to be home with them.

"Can we go back to the manor?" Vessel interrupts, guilty eyes struggling to meet II's.

Vessel turns his head so that his cheek presses onto III's head, taking comfort in the way the curls muddle his line of sight. III still hasn't let him go, still clutching at Vessel's arm like a limpet now, refusing to let any distance come between them. If Vessel focuses, he may be able to feel III's heartbeat in his bicep where the other man has Vessel's arm in a vice grip. 

"Of course we can, Ves. I'll be right back." II says, soft eyes full of understanding.

II turns to go back to the wayfinder to grab their things, hand beginning to slip from Vessel's. He clutches onto it like III is currently doing to him, fearful of any distance between them. "I don't... please- Can we stay close?"

"I'm not going that far, sweetheart. Just to grab our things."

"Too far." Vessel mumbles, selfishly, and II's expression softens further.

II let's Vessel hold onto his hand, all three of them shuffling back through the tunnels towards their collection of bags. It's a miracle all of them are still there, and then Vessel notices the thicker than normal shadows underneath the plastic bags. Vessel still feels guilty that they'd bought him anything, even though II was adamant it was fine, they weren't wanting for money thanks to Sleep, and Vessel had decided for himself that he wanted something. 

"Can we get a drink or something before we go? I would feel better, personally." III asks, feeling guilty for asking.

"Is that fine with you Ves?" II asks, and Vessel nods, replying, "Do they have anything sweet?'

Even if he didn't need sustenance, something sweet did sound nice. As soon as they find themselves surrounded by people, Vessel's hands kick up a faint tremble. II blessedly tries to keep them away from the thick of it, carrying their bags in one hand while keeping hold of Vessel's with the other. 

II finds a secluded spot for Vessel to calm down in, setting their stuff down beside a small fountain. Small tremors wrack his otherwise still form as Vessel's mind settles from being out of the overwhelming situation, holding Jello close while rubbing his thumb and forefinger down the scrunchy material of her arms. 

"I'm going to the restroom and to get us drinks! I'll be right back, promise!" III exclaims, nervously fidgeting with their nail polish, picking at the chipping paint.

"Be careful." II implores while he digs around in his wallet for their credit card, seeming as reluctant to let III go off on their own as III himself is.

"Will do." III grins, easy despite his own anxieties.

"Three." Vessel mutters when III turns to leave, "Sleep will erase anyone who harms you if I ask. Do not be afraid to protect yourself."

"I'll come back to you, Sugar. I'll bring you something sweet, and maybe something more bitter for Two." III leans down to kiss Vessel's forehead, pulling away from the finger he didn't realize was locked around a belt loop.

They glance over at II, a nod meeting his questioning look. The kiss was allowed then. III was hoping it was. II isn't strict on the rules when distressing situations occur, knowing allowing them the small comforts helps. II isn't cruel. III turns, and walks away, long legs carrying him from his lovers quickly. II waits until III is out of sight, both he and Vessel watching them go before II hands Vessel Mr. Nibbles, swimming in his love for the other man as Vessel cuddles into the misshapen shark. Already, away from the crowds and overall noise of the aquarium, Vessel's bond is lighter. The static of overstimulation is beginning to taper. II wants to ask Vessel what happened in the ocean tunnels. That look in his eyes scared him, something like death seeping from his blue eyes into crystal tears.

Now, Vessel is looking at him over his new shark stuffed animal with loving eyes, clear contemplation in the bond. Would II get angry with him? Would he think the nickname was too old-fashioned?

II lets him ruminate in peace, content to keep watch for III's return as Vessel calms down. II tugs on the bond on occasion, relief buzzing through him whenever III returns the gesture.

Vessel does his best not to even think the nickname, despite how much he longs to refer to them as such in his head. He yearns for so many things, and fears allowing himself the luxury of having any of them. He is ruled by his fear, but... II and III have helped him overcome so much already...

"Today was fun, thank you, beloved."

II freezes in place, and Vessel does, too.

"I-I apologize, it just slipped out!" Vessel tries to fix his mistake, even if he said the nickname with purpose, holding his plushies tighter to himself as though their soft forms will protect him. "I won't say it ag- oof!"

II launches himself at Vessel, startling him so badly he loses balance, almost toppling over the ledge and into the fountain behind him. II continues, smile wide, picking Vessel up by the waist and twirling him around. It makes Vessel dizzy, and he's caught between yelping and loosing an undignified giggle. The sound he makes comes out as more of a squeak instead, and II laughs, pressing a kiss into Vessel's stomach. Vessel almost drops his plushies in surprise, easily ignoring the way his ribs ache in protest at the movement. II doesn't miss the flash of Vessel's pain, hold gentling but not placing him back down. Vessel's weight is barely felt due to II's strength, the chains on his pants digging into II's skin. He doesn't want to let go, wants to hold on to Vessel forever. 

"Sorry, sweetheart. Got ahead of myself. Are you okay? I can put you down."

Vessel hums a disagreement, relishing in II's arms around him. He shouldn't be able to feel Vessel's lack of heartbeat. Hopefully. He can't see II's head over his new stuffed animals, but Vessel can still feel his love, feel his happiness, and that's enough. He sends back his own, and it is like they're floating in it, just them two in a vast ocean of tender affection.

"Would you say it again, sweetheart?"

"Beloved." Vessel murmurs, too lowly for II to hear him.

"Again."

"Beloved." Vessel repeats himself a little louder this time, though not above a whisper.

"Again? Please?"

"Beloved."

Now that he's said it properly, at a normal volume, II finally sets him down only to immediately smother him in a world ending kiss, pulling Vessel's facemask down to do so. One hand holds Vessel's nape, pulling him down to meet II's lips while the shorter man stands on his tip toes, the other cupping Vessel's cheek. He is careful not to put too much strain on Vessel's ribs, but Vessel himself is not as careful, once again ignoring the ache and leaning down further so II doesn't have to strain himself.

Gentle 'I love you's' are murmured into the chapped skin of Vessel's lips as II kisses him again, and again, less frenzied than the first, softer, slower.

Finding the restroom is easy enough, III passing by a man who sneers at them distastefully when they politely squeeze by. Taking a piss is a boring affair, as it always is, though III is glad to be the only one in the restroom. Lost in thought about how absolutely gorgeous his boyfriends look today, and still a little frazzled from losing Vessel, III doesn't pay any mind to the next man who comes in the bathroom, takes one look at him, and promptly leaves as III is washing their hands.

A tiny voice croons in awe, something about his hair being pretty and having so many red threads on his fingers, and III freezes in place, turning their head to look at the restroom entrance. Empty, just like the stalls behind him. 

He turns in a circle, looking around. The restroom is completely empty, except for a spider on the wall, hanging out on an intricately spun web in one corner of a small window. The tiny voice speaks again in amused disbelief, and again III understands perfectly. It isn't English, or any other human language, but III's mind translates it with ease. It says something about there being no way a human had heard her speak. The spider shuffles, moving slightly closer. Eight eyes blink slowly, once, twice, before there's a chittering exclamation of realization.

III finds himself pointing at it, mouth hanging open. It's tiny head tilts, before one equally as tiny, spindly arm lifts to point back.

Slowly, the point turns into a mimicry of a wave, and III feels their heart constrict painfully. He waves back cheerfully, trying to keep himself contained so he doesn't scare the little creature.

"You're so cute. What's your name?" III sticks his hand out, and tentatively, the spider climbs on.

It's a small thing, no bigger than III's thumbnail, perhaps a jumping spider? With two large eyes in front with a smaller pair beside each of those, and another set, one eye on either side of its head, and fuzzy little hairs all over the brown body.

"What is a name, Vessel of a God?" She asks in a confused chitter, and III is fairly certain it's a she.

"It is what you are called. My name is Three. It's what my boyfriends call me, and the name I chose when I started my new life." Though surprised, III brushes past the spider knowing their inhuman status.

"You can choose your own name?" III's mind supplies when the spider speaks again.

"Yeah, you can! Or I can name you. It's your choice." III responds, exiting the restroom.

They move off to the side, reaching to fiddle with their phone screen so they don't draw too much attention for talking to their hand.

"You would grant me a name, kind Vessel of a God?" Big, big eyes stare up at III and he knows he won't survive those eyes.

They remind him far too much of Vessel.

III has only known this little spider for a total of five minutes but he'd kill for her.

"Yes, yes, I will! If you want me to! How about Kiwi? Cause you're fuzzy and about the same color."

When Kiwi repeats her name, it is not in any form of human speech, but it translates just the same. She sounds a little awed, and looks so adorable III wants to squeal like a schoolgirl.

"Can I take you home with me? The restroom doesn't seem like a safe place for you to live. I don't want to take you from your home though, if you'd prefer to stay."

"Will I have a place to spin my webs? Food to eat?"

III is nodding rapidly as they agree, "Yeah! I'll make sure of it! You'll need to stay in my room most of the time though. One of my boyfriends is afraid of spiders. He's been working on it but still freaks out when he see's one. It's not your fault though, or his. He's making an effort to get over the fear for my sake." III gushes, pure adoration shining in his eyes as he lifts Kiwi up and let's her hide in his hair.

It tickles a little as she moves around, "Just stay hidden in my hair for now! I'm so excited! You're such an adorable new friend!"

"Your mate, he will not hurt me?"

III's eyebrows raise in surprise, "Mate? Well, I suppose that's an accurate term. No, II won't hurt you. He's more likely to run away or freeze in place. Vessel won't hurt you either, he's too gentle hearted."

"I will take your word for it, friend."

III could cry. This is the sixteenth greatest honor he's ever been gifted. A spider has just reciprocated their friendship. He can't wait to tell II and Ves, even if they know II will be a bit... scared, to put it lightly, at the mere mention of a spider. Maybe he'll wait until they're leaving the aquarium.

He would just have to keep Kiwi in his room, to keep II from seeing her and passing out on his floor or something.

Getting drinks is easy, aside from the long line. II tugs sporadically on the bond in question, anxious for their return, and it leaves a smile permanently etched onto his cheeks long after he orders. There is relief, too, as Vessel's end of the bond loses it's harsh, overstimulated edge. Tugging back is second nature, and each time he is met with II's relief and a heavy dose of love down the bond.

III returns to II holding Vessel in the air by his waist, absolute elation flooding the bond like the waves of an ocean. II has a wide smile on his face, Vessel much the same, and III wishes he could take photo's with his eyes.

"And you said no PDA when I wanted to give you kisses on stage!" III calls, grinning widely, drink holder in hand.

Vessel blushes up to his ears as II puts him down, pulling away and fixing his facemask. He remains close to II's side, holding his new plushies still. He's so fucking cute, III feels he will burst at the seams with his love. 

"I told you I have to concentrate. Besides that, we're as away from other people as we're going to get and you didn't hear what he just called me. You'd want to kiss him senseless, too."

"What did he call you?" III asks II, curious blue eyes sliding to try and catch Vessel's evasive gaze.

Vessel can't bring himself to speak, a conflicting mix of nervous and embarrassed. "Come on, sweetheart, he won't be upset." II gives Vessel a reassuring smile.

III starts handing everyone their drinks, and when Vessel takes his, he speaks in the same fashion he had with II mere moments before, "Thank you, beloved, I appreciate it."

III freezes, wide eyed as a grin twitches onto their face. Then, he doesn't do anything. Just stands there, drink in hand. Vessel would have thought he'd done something wrong if the emotions coming from III's bond weren't complete and utter love and elation.

"I think you've broken him, sweetheart." II's teases lightly and Vessel is struck by a mix of worry and mirth.

"I didn't mean to. I wouldn't have said it if I'd known they'd react this way." Vessel replies, unsure, pulling his plushies closer.

"No!" III practically shouts, and it's so sudden Vessel steps back out of instinct.

III's smile is still bright, the blissed daze he'd fallen into slipping away so he could grasp at some amount of coherency after Vessel short circuited their brain. He steps forward, handing his drink to II who takes it with a small smile, "No, Sugar, I'm so happy with that nickname! I want to hear it everyday for the rest of my life! You're absolutely adorable."

Arms wrap around Vessel's torso, III pressing in so close. The only thing that keeps their chests from meeting is the plushies Vessel still holds. Vessel smells of the ocean, something like the salt on a gentle breeze. It's a scent III has noticed before, but it's stronger here, in this place, where the scent can be given a proper name.

III wants to hug him, pull Vessel close and meld into one. He wants to know why Vessel won't allow them to hug him, why he is so adamant they remain far away from his neck and chest with few exceptions. He wants to ask, to know, but neither he nor II will dare.

Vessel has allowed so much, told them so much already, shared painful secrets. If there is something else he is hiding, there must be good reason. III just hopes it isn't something that will hurt Vessel in the long run, hopes one day Vessel will tell them.

Kiwi chitters in III's ear about how cute his boyfriend is, and III wants nothing more than to shout it from the rooftops because it is the truth and he needs the world to know. Kiwi moves around in III's hair before he can't feel her at all, and internally, III panics, afraid she has fallen. 

"Make sure II doesn't see the little spider." Vessel mumbles, breath cool against III's ear, close enough for III to feel the way his lips brush against the sensitive skin.

When Vessel pulls away, III's face is bright red, pupils dilated as he see's Kiwi hanging off of one of Vessel's braids, thankfully at an angle II can't see. Despite his flustered state, III nods as if nothing is wrong, as if Vessel's pretty voice in his ear didn't send blood straight down to his dick. Reluctant to let him go, but knowing it would only make Vessel uncomfortable to continue holding on to him, III lets their arms fall back to their sides, taking their drink back from II. A sip is taken, and III groans.

"This is the best matcha iced latte I've ever had! Surely I would remember that much. You've got to try this, Ves! I got you the same thing. Oh, and a dark chocolate frappe for Two, I thought you might like it because it isn't super sweet-."

While III distracts II with talk of their respective drinks, Vessel tells the little spider his name, even if he isn't sure it understands him. A gentle hand reaches up to fiddle with one of his braids, Vessel trying to discreetly move the little spider somewhere II won't see it. It's a cute little thing, waving up at him happily. Vessel moves it to the pocket on his loose shirt, letting the spider slip inside. Vessel finally takes a sip of his iced latte, finding it to be a perfect amount of sweet and bitter, mostly sweet. He likes it, and wonders if they could get something similar in the city near the manor.

"This is really good, beloved, thank you." Vessel comments quietly, and is surprised when III steals a kiss.

They taste of matcha, like their drinks.

"Three! You little brat. Make that three days."

"Oh come on, Doll! Show me some mercy, he's just too fucking cu- Hey! Stop- Stop flicking me! I'm not a cat-!"

Vessel laughs, feeling light on his feet despite the tiredness dimming his brainpower. His bond, somehow, feels less weighed down than the others, and he knows he must have scared them badly.

They leave the aquarium in varying states of emotion after finishing some of their drinks. Everyone is a little on edge, the terrifying situation of having lost Vessel lingering like the rot of death, and yet time has passed, the tension fading away bit by bit. Guilt festers in Vessel's empty chest. Regardless, Vessel is still happy, so happy, but heavily bittersweet. He sips at his drink on the way to the car, holding the little spider in his hand, resting curled in his lap once they're on the way back to the hotel. III chats with II in the front seat, animated and full of energy regardless of the long day they've had. Vessel wants nothing more than to take a nap, exhaustion making his bones its home. His mind runs wild, thoughts swirling round and round. 

Today had been good, despite it's rough start and iffy middle. His first ever official date, outside of the manor, that is. He made mistakes, and the others didn't get too upset with him. He remained unhurt, only loved. Truly loved.

How was II to know that Vessel would grow nostalgic for the peace of the ocean, the moon above him, the fish swimming around him without care, and the way his mind and heart finally seemed to settle even as his body struggled for air.

Vessel still doesn't know how he survived that. He made sure the next attempt would be the last, and it had been. Until Sleep came to him, anyway.

Nick is watching television while simultaneously scrolling on his phone when they return to the hotel. He spares them a warm greeting, though he doesn't look up from his phone screen for long enough to really get a glimpse at any of them.

Vessel carefully avoids looking at him, once again nervous to be existing in his presence. If he looks at Nick too long he can feel the other man's hand on his shoulder, brushing against his lower back. It makes him vaguely ill.

They take turns washing their makeup off, III bemoaning losing such a pretty sight. Nick snorts quietly, lip curling. Only Vessel seems to have noticed, as is becoming a familiarity. He seems hyper aware of everything Nick does, something about the other man instilling a quiet, but building, fear in him. It's a recognizable feeling, but... Nick isn't like that. Like them. 

II spares no time for rest, beginning to pack their things without care for the time. He has clearly taken Vessel's request to go back to their manor seriously. The thought of going back soon becomes all he can think about, discreetly handing III the little spider and going to lay down. He curls around a pillow and wonders if his heart still beats while he is aw ay from it. Wonders how Elvira is doing, if Sleep misses him the way Vessel misses the God. 

Vessel wishes he had brought his new plushies inside instead of leaving them in the trunk, fearing losing them on the trip back and the stop they'll have to make at Nick's apartment.

"Going back to sleep already, Vessel?" Nick asks, his presence nearing.

Vessel's eyes shoot open, having not realized he'd closed them. Nick is beginning to sit on the bed, phone in hand as he mindlessly scrolls. Vessel moves to sit up so he can put some distance between him, but one glance from Nick has him stilling.

II and III are bickering loudly by the bathroom over III having lost something. Vessel knows III isn't used to having to keep track of their own things since the house always returns any lost items quickly, and would say as much if Nick weren't around. 

"Must be tiring third-wheeling their date, huh?" Nick snickers quietly, turning warm brown eyes on Vessel. 

Vessel winces, Nick's words like a dagger to the heart even if it is no longer in his chest. 

"You're not much of a socializer, it must've been so boring."

Anxiety begins to fester under Vessel's skin, a hand coming to rest on his ankle. Vessel wants to throw up, carefully hiding his emotions from the bond as III laughs about something or other.

Get off of me. Don't touch where Four had. Don't ruin the memory with your filth. Today had been good, please don't ruin it for me. I have so few good things.

Vessel is begging in his mind for Nick to go away. A thumb begins to caress his ankle, brushing over the tips of fading scars. He flinches away, curling into himself further. Nick grins, standing with a whisper that wraps thorns around Vessel's throat, "Not much of a talker, either. That's probably for the best." 

"Hey, Nick, have you seen Three's checkered socks? He's lost them." II calls, ruffling through III's duffel bag.

"No, I can't say that I have. Give me a sec, I'll help you look." Nick responds, walking away from Vessel's bedside.

The room isn't even big, and yet Vessel feels the space between them widening like a chasm, a welcome distance. 

"Was nice talking to you, Ves. Hope you had fun on your date." Nick's voice never loses its kindness, and Vessel's stomach churns, the itch for a blade building in his fingertips.

He turns onto his other side as he buries himself under the bedcovers, and wishes to go back to the manor where only the three vessels live. Where he doesn't have to see Nick more than a few times a week. Where Vessel feels safe. He promised II, he promised.

I promised, Vessel repeats, digging his blunt, human nails into soft skin and wishes to bleed.

[princesssarisa]

In Cinderella Tales From Around the World, I've now reached the tales from Sweden and Norway.

*In many of these variants, just like in many versions from Great Britain and Ireland and some from Denmark, the Cinderella character is a princess by birth, and her stepmother is a queen. At first it seemed strange to me that a princess should be forced to clean, cook, and pasture animals, when royalty should have servants for those things. But then I remembered Disney's Snow White and how the wicked Queen forces Snow White to work as a scullery maid. In fairy tales, that sort of thing can happen.

*Whether there are two stepsisters or one can vary, though most often there's just one. But in all these versions, the heroine's abusers are a stepmother and stepsisters – neither Sweden nor Norway seems to have variants where she's abused by her biological family.

*In a few Swedish versions, the heroine is known as "Crow-Cloak," because her stepfamily forces her to wear a cloak of crow feathers. But in most others, as in other countries, she has a nickname related to cinders or ashes.

*The heroine's helpers in the Swedish versions come in a wide variety: a pike in a well, an ermine, an old man, a bird, a black ox, a midwife, a mountain troll, or even a magical apple, pear, and plum.

*The theme of the heroine being ordered to sort or prepare peas or grain, and her helper doing it for her, reappears in several versions.

*Almost all Swedish and Norwegian versions have the heroine go to church in her finery, not a ball or festival. Just one Swedish version, Askungen, has a ball instead, and that version seems heavily influenced by Perrault, because so far it's the only other version I've seen with a pumpkin transformed into a coach (along with rats into horses and caterpillars into footmen), and one of the very few where she has to leave by midnight.

*As in the Danish versions, the heroine usually says "Light before! Darkness behind!" to prevent anyone from following her from home to church or vice-versa.

*The theme of the stepsister(s) cutting her/their feet to make the shoe fit, but a bird revealing the trick, is once again constant.

*Several different Norwegian variants are called Kari Woodencloak, or in some English translations, Katie Woodencloak. As her name implies, this Cinderella figure does her dirty work wearing a dress made from boards of wood.

**The most famous of these versions, the one collected by Peter Christen Asbjørnsen and Jørgen Moe, is another variation on the "abused stepdaughter runs away with her magical bull" theme. Kari is a princess whose wicked queen stepmother tries to starve her, but the bull magically feeds her each day, until the stepmother finds out and plans to kill the bull, so they flee. The bull is forced to fight three trolls, which leaves him gravely wounded, and he implores Kari to kill him, then lay his skin under a stone. Sadly she obeys, and from then on whenever she knocks on that stone, her wishes are granted. The story then, of course, becomes a Donkeyskin/All-Kinds-of-Fur variant as she becomes a scullery maid at the castle of the prince, who treats her scornfully, only to fall in love with her when she comes to church dressed in magical finery.

***There are Swedish variants almost identical to this one too. Although they don't include the wooden dress, and in one of them, the bull is replaced by a white bear.

**There are other, simpler Kari Woodencloak tales too, though. One is like Cinderella meets Puss in Boots: Kari is a peasant girl who inherits only a pet cat when her parents die, so she and the cat set out to seek their fortune, she becomes a castle scullery maid, and the cat becomes her helper, hunting animals and selling them to the king, then using the money to buy finery for Kari. Others are standard Cinderella tales where Kari doesn't leave home, but simply slaves for her stepmother; in one of these, she gets her finery from a mysterious hill where disembodied voices speak, and another is like a simplified version of Asbjørnsen and Moe's, where the stepmother kills Kari's bull and Kari then gets her finery from his grave.

*There are many other Norwegian variants too. The heroine's various helpers in these versions include her mother's spirit, a bird, several birds, a mysterious old woman from inside a hill, or a fairy who appears from inside a lime tree and calls herself "the lime tree queen." (In virtually all the Scandinavian versions that include a magical tree, it's a lime tree, just like it's usually a hazel tree in Germany.)

*In some Norwegian versions, the stepmother is a sorceress who magically imprisons the father and forces him to marry her against his will at the beginning.

*At least two Norwegian versions continue after the heroine's marriage; her stepsister throws her into the sea and takes her place, but she comes back in the form of a duck, and her husband eventually breaks the spell.

Next stops: Finland, Estonia, and Russia.

@adarkrainbow, @ariel-seagull-wings, @themousefromfantasyland

[gepm251-blog]

hey pookers its meeeeee :3

what kind of clothing/attire would you say the gods are wearing in ur au???

OHHHHHHH, ISN'T THAT A QUESTION!

Gods are born in very different time periods from each other, also they have varying degrees of contact with mortals!

It depends also on the territory they currently reside in and the one they were born into!

About our main characters:

-Pac as lived a long time in the mortal world and is VERY in contact with it, so he usually wears a tipe of thick leggings that also cover his feet and are reinforced in strategic points (it's made of a fabric of his own invention and very sturdy), shirts or cropped chitons on top and a blue cloak that is golden in the inside. There are variations of this ofc

-Fit is a practical guy, but also someone who has an idea in his mind on how a god should dress and tries to follow it: brown chiton with green details, that's it. If he's wearing armour, he has sleeves and coverage for his legs that he just puts on and closes with strings, so that the metal doesn't make direct contact if it's very hot; if it's cold he just puts a tunic and wrappings under it and calls it a day

-Tubbo puts on some pretty fabrics, keeps them together with pins and a belt and considers himself dressed. His attire is completed by utility belts and other bullshit things that do not fit the initial vibe at all. He also has a lot of crowns that were gifted to him at several points in his life, but he only wears them in special occasions

(also, hi hi hi hi hi!)

[mrhaitch]

Mr. Haitch, i’m interested in your opinion of Harry Potter. Specifically, characters that have complex or deeper stories like Dumbledore.

There’s a lot to be said for wizarding society, but much to analyze about the perceived “good” characters in the series. A big theme is good vs evil but like many things it’s never cut and dry.

Dumbledore: Personally, apart from Voldemort’s need to eradicate muggles, the worst person in that series is Dumbledore. Every time I say that others are like “but he’s a good guy” and I’m like, Is he? Because he’s all about the greater good allegedly but children are in the crossfire. I feel like a good man with that much power would step in much more directly when his 6th year student is adopted into a cult, instead of sending a double agent that’s still in love with someone he knew in school to keep an eye on him and help out.

Harry had to, in Snape’s words, be raised like a pig for slaughter, but there’s so many ways he could have been guided and helped throughout and it really grinds my gears. I feel like a hands off approach isn’t the way to go when one of your students is a walking horcrux. 

Dumbledore is a selfish man who even continued his interest in the deathly hallows past James Potter’s death (invisibility cloak) despite an argument over them causing the death of his sister. He has done good things, great things, even. But he is not good in my opinion.

I have a lot of things to expound on about that, the story itself and about the author unfortunately, but I’ll leave it here before you get a novel from me.

- 🌻

P.S. you and your wife are very lovely people to converse with and ask philosophical questions, and I thoroughly enjoy the further conversations that come from that. Breaking down literature with you both is so fun. Thank you for joining us on tumblr dot com to share more with us. 💗

Dumbledore's a complicated one, certainly, and his worldview - as glimpsed through his actions - is ruthless, much like you said. I wouldn't necessarily call him selfish as the majority of his decisions are what you'd expect from someone who takes the 'long view'. Everything he does is calculated to achieve an ultimate end he refuses to share with anyone else. If he's guilty of any sin, I'd be tempted to say pride or arrogance, more specifically. His failure to include even the people in his innermost circle in his thinking speaks to that - not necessarily because he doesn't trust them, but because he judges them incapable of doing what is necessary. You could argue he did all of this with his eyes open, and suffered a great deal of personal crises - just privately - but we've only got the text to work from and the rest supposition.

Harry as a 'pig for slaughter' sparked something, actually, because what we're dealing with here is a variation on Ursula Le Guin's Those Who Walk Away from Omelas. Summarised briefly:

Omelas is a utopia, for each and every person that lives there. No hunger, no poverty, no discrimination, no injustice. Every day is a feast and a festival, the city filled with boundless joy and music and frivolity and love. However - when each citizen comes of age they learn the truth of the city. The city can only thrive as it does because one child is subjected to the highest level of suffering. They were born, raised, and live alone, in filth and squalor, never knowing human kindness, touch, safety, or security. A child living totally alone and never knowing love.

Each citizen must then make a choice: to return to their lives and accept the child as a necessary sacrifice, or to leave for parts unknown, never to return. [My own summary, from memory]

Harry is that one child in Omelas, subjected to intentional deprivation to mould him into the kind of person he needs to be to save the world. This is done intentionally, by someone who has thought things through. They know what they're doing, the harm involved, and do it anyway. It's a sacrifice of one to save many.

Philosophically speaking, we're talking about the ethical calculus of Utilitarianism (greatest good for the greatest number), where almost any action can be justified if it results in a net good for the world.

What we're left with at the end are our values and how the balancing of the scales affects our gut and our hearts. Either the suffering of the minority to benefit the majority is a terrible but necessary thing, or that suffering leaves the outcome tainted and points to a sickness at the heart of those who knowingly benefit from it, or engineered the situation itself.

“Omelas already exists: no need to build it or choose it. We already live here – in the narrow, foul, dark prison we let our ignorance, fear, and hatred build for us and keep us in, here in the splendid, beautiful city of life. . . .” - Ursula Le Guin

Speaking candidly: I'm in the latter category. Dumbledore is a terrible, awful person, who used the most brutal and cruel methods possible to achieve his ends. He's dishonest, duplicitous, and his actions are borne of a calculating arrogance. But, within the logic of the story itself, he's also necessary. We can never know if there was an alternative because we're never showed one. Frankly - I doubt Dumbledore gives a shit what anyone thinks, and would've done it again, the same way, a thousand times if he thought it necessary.

[I'm working on a slightly longer thing about Harry Potter - because someone made the mistake of asking for my thoughts a few days back. It'll largely focus on words of power, how language shapes social reality, and M Nourbese Philip whose work I heavily recommend. I'll finish it, some day]

[bellatrixobsessed1]

Meteor Shower (Last Part)

“Hi-i-iiii every one and welcome to our tour bus!” Diamond sings with a wave to our camera. “Say hi everyone!” 

They all give a cheerful little greeting.

“Kya?” Diamond says, “we couldn’t hear you, Kya! Let the fans hear your beautiful voice!”

And with a blush and a small laugh she mutters a second hello.

“Isn’t she just precious!” Diamond slings her arm over Kyanite’s shoulder and the other over Goldstone’s. “Come on everyone, get in the shot.” And she turns the camcorder to face them. They all wave. “Aren’t we all just so cute!” She squeals. 

“We have our first show tonight!” Ruby declares for the camera. “Like our first ever!”

“The real deal!” Adds Topaz. 

“Chalcedony is super nervous. Kyanite said that she isn’t but I think that she is, so be nice to her. Be nice to both of them!” 

Kyanite takes a seat between Chalcedony and Diamond. Topaz pours them all a drink, sparkling water with a pump of that syrup that makes the water taste fruity. Tonight’s choice is plum and passionfruit. 

“See you on stage everyone!” Diamond closes. Ruby gives a little cheer and a few claps that are shared by Topaz and Goldstone and then Diamond and eventually Kyanite. Chalcedony gives her brightest smile and her peppiest wave. 

And then they are on the stage, under the spotlights and sparkling like the stars and gemstones that they are in dresses and jewelry in their signature colors. Their outfits are semi-uniformed but cut at different lengths with variations to the sleeve shapes and necklines. Diamond’s dress comes with a plunging v shaped neckline that shows off much more than Kyanite would ever dare. And yet Kyanite is showy in her own way. Her dress has one long and billowing sleeve while her right arm and shoulder are completely bare. It is a short dress, the type that displays those long legs that she has become quite known for. She has also become known for having hair just as remarkably long and elegant. Currently in is worn loose and decorated with crystal hair clips and a spray of silver and blue glitter. She is the only one in the group that does not wear heels. She cannot dance in them. But the knee length boots suit her just fine. Kyanite likes boots. 

She runs up to join Chalcedony who takes her hand and they give each other a little twirl to match the one that Topaz and Goldstone share on the other end of the stage. Front and center, Diamond and Ruby have their own more complex moves to work through. 

 Eventually Ruby slips back and Diamond alone is front and center and she will be for much of the show. But Kyanite will have her moment too; a solo song. The kind that she had never been allowed at the academy. 

Her solo is a clever intermission of sorts. The rest of them will leave the stage for an outfit change and she will sing a slower song accompanied by a piano. She can only play the one song on it but she is glad to be able to play it at all. And when the final note rings out she will go back stage for her own outfit change while the others emerge in cloaks that will be shed when all six of them are rejoined. And they will perform a dance number while the crew helps dress her and restyle her hair. 

Tonight it doesn’t cross her mind to be offended that they had chosen to keep her out of the dance number. Nor to be partly thankful that they had done so in a way that wouldn’t leave people asking why she isn’t allowed to do the harder dances. Tonight she is simply thankful that she doesn’t have to fret over tripping during her very first show. 

Eventually she will learn to dance properly. 

Eventually they will let her be on stage for the harder dances.

She never does. And they never do.

Her stomach flutters wildly as soon as Chalcedony slips behind the curtain with a smile and a thumbs up.  Kyanite makes her way to the piano; a beautiful glass thing that drinks in the stage lights like ice under Christmas tree lights. She closes her eyes and inhales deeply as her fingers press down on the keys. 

She has played this song enough now for her to not need to look at the keys. But she will, if only to not have to stare at the audience until her apprehension leaves. She sings quietly, probably more so than her manager would like her to but the crowd can still hear her and that is what matters. 

She becomes known for that too; singing softly during her solos but projecting very well throughout the rest of the show. 

She looks up. Chances a glance at the crowd. 

They are silent, so very quiet. Holding their breaths, a stark contrast to the lively energy from before. And a stark contrast to the energy that will come back after Ruby shouts, “are we ready to pick it up a little!?” But for now they look upon her.

Captivated. 

Maybe even moved.

And finally, it melts away; the dread and the reluctance. 

She ends her solo with her eyes closed and a dip of her head. And they clap for her. They love her. They appreciate her. 

She smiles at the piano keys. 

And when the lights cut she makes her way behind stage.

Diamond meets her at the curtain and squeezes her into a hug. “You did amazing, Kya.” She squeals. 

When she emerges it is in a long flowing dress with fluttering white lace that looks blue beneath the spotlights. The venue explodes with cheers and applause. And it does so again when they deliver their last notes and strike their final poses. 

It is the end of a show but the start of something amazing, something unforgettable that will change her forever. 

Finally she has friends and she will cherish them forever.

.oOo.

The Trix wouldn’t be the Trix if they didn’t leave everyone with something to talk about by the end of their show. 

She, on her own, gives them at least three things. 

Not that they hadn’t given the fans something to talk about from the very start when they opened with a blast of lightning, a swirling of shadows, and a gust of frosty wind. This show is a showcasing of their magical abilities as much as their musical abilities. Each song is a ritual, a manifestation for luck, longevity, vitality, talent, security, and sensuality—Darcy’s sneaky little way of wishing Icy and Bloom well. 

Their opening song, Stormy’s loving nod to campy horror movies begins with one such flash of lightning and a quote from the campiest of her favorite movies. And from there the 808’s kick in and Stormy beats on the drum head with a ferocity to overtake the thunder that comes in the wake of her lightning. They are drenched by the end of the show which suits Darcy just fine when she sets her bass aside to mimic clawing her way up from a freshly dug grave. Icy supposes that the ridiculously redundant drum machine is useful for when they need to set real instruments aside for some more complex theatrics. Stormy had used those more than Darcy. Mostly Darcy needed an extended synth and drum lead in before picking up her base and beginning one of their oldest tracks. Icy’s performance doesn’t require much of that. Just her guitar, her voice, and a moderate snowfall to obscure the stage as she works through another older track. A deathrock track about absinthe and sex. 

Overall this show is a scatter of eras and genres. Something chaotic in that they have chosen to disregard their setlist almost entirely. Chaotic in that they take moments to discuss which songs they’d like to sing next. 

Their ‘final’ song comes quicker than Icy had realized it would. It has been a while since she has lost track of time on stage. With only one song left before their encore, it is time to give the press something to latch onto. The first of three things. 

For the first time since they had begun the tour, the Winx girls come back out onto the stage. Bloom comes to stand next to Icy. And for the first time during the tour both their witch and fairy fanbase seem to be equally enthusiastic at the same moment. Bloom takes Icy by the waist and pulls her in closer. 

“Looks like the Trix have a trick for all of you.” Bloom declares. Coaxing a mix of groans and laughs.

“Looks like someone is about to get taken backstage again.” Icy grumbles. “I haven’t brought you up here to defile our show with dreadful puns.”

“So what you’re saying is that if I make another pun you’re going to punish me?”

Icy scoops her up, carries her over to one of the prop coffins, puts her inside, and closes the lid. “Now that we have taken care of that problem we can begin our final song. A new track that we have made to wrap this tour up.” 

“It is a preview of what is to come.” Darcy adds. “A bridge between the light and the dark. The witchy and the cringy…or whatever adjective you use for faerie content.” 

“We’re going to make so many people mad!” Stormy balls her fists and gives them an enthusiastic little shake. The witch is practically vibrating. 

And with that they begin their newest song. A piece that everyone is either going to adore or resent. Perhaps both at once. Their sound is a bizarre concoction of tinkling bells and pop beats clashing with guitar riffs and dark lyrical themes. 

Surprisingly Bloom doesn’t leave her coffin, opting instead to sing, muffled and absurdly, from within it until Icy lifts her out once more. A mistake, really—the fairy clings to her neck and she has to finish the song with a fairy in her arms and the inability to tell her to quit the shenanigans. 

At the song’s end she returns Bloom to the coffin and perches herself upon another. Stormy takes them through their false farewells and they share a bow with the faeries. 

And then they are backstage listening to the claps and calls for them to return. For the chanting of their band name and the stomping of feet. 

“That was incredible!” Stella gushes. 

“Honestly I couldn’t ask for a more satisfying ending.” Darcy states. 

“It isn’t over yet.” Icy grips her elbow and inhales through her nose.

“You’re going to do great. It will be the best tour finale that the Trix has ever had.” Bloom assures. 

It will certainly be the most memorable. 

The first of their three encore songs progresses and ends like any other. And the second begins as extraordinary as it will end. It is a daring way to do an encore; to do a brand new song with more guest vocals instead of an old favorite but it is a perfect lead in for the third and final shock of the night. 

The three of them sing in unison for the song’s intro. An intro with its own choreography a simple dance that is more akin to a ritual dance than anything, something more suited for a beltane fire than a stage. But it serves them well. And then they fall silent. 

Silent until Darcy finds herself working with a keyboard programed to sound like an organ. Silent until Stormy comes in with her drum beats. 

At the center of the stage Icy comes to meet Chalcedony, dressed in a white cloak to contrast the witch’s own black one. For a moment the instruments cut and Chalcedony pulls her hood back.  

And then lyrics tumbles from her Chalcedony’s throat like the falling of petals and the rustling of leaves against a gravestone in the sunshine. Her springtime is accompanied by Icy’s frozen lake song for a time before the song takes another sharp turn. Before Icy tries something that she never has before; following Chalcedony’s soft and sweet lilt, Icy goes for something more grating. Something so utterly devoid of its usual slick and smooth nature. Something that so starkly contrasts everything that she has ever done. 

Really they are the only type of vocals that can convey the song’s message while masking it entirely by rendering the lyrics indecipherable.  

Eventually the lyrics will show up in their album booklet. But until then, only privy ears will know that this song is about an industry that ravages people beyond recognition. She ends breathing heavily, with her throat faintly aching. 

This song, she decides, won’t be performed often. 

It was never meant to be. 

In fact, it very well may have been meant to be only sung once. 

She doesn’t think that she can do it again. 

The third song will be on the new album though. They are taking too many risks tonight to end the show on such a dismal note. And so the Trix and Chalcedony sing a song about crows and their knack for shiny objects. Stormy’s idea with a that psychobilly twist that she had been itching for them to try.

And the witch goes absolutely bonkers. Kicking up her feet and jumping around, doing more dancing than drum work. Icy had anticipated as much and invited Musa to come in and take over the drums so that Stormy could put her energy into singing and flailing. And Darcy could focus on playing her bass and avoiding Stormy’s arms. 

Eventually Icy too puts her guitar to another. With a deep sigh and a, “you better treat this guitar well, Peters!” She passes it to the fairy. “And for the love of darkness, hold it correctly.” 

“Sure thing!” She declares and the song carries on. 

 Kyanite may not be able to dance but Icy can. And maybe that is because Icy makes her own rules, follows the direction that the music takes her rather than what choreographers rigorously instruct her to do. Maybe that is because Icy dances to music in the way that music is meant to be danced to; without restraint and structure. With minimal elegance and no rigidity. If any fan asks her to do this dance again, she can say for certain that she is unable. She never dances the exact same way more than once. She doesn’t even remember which moves she had made and in which order nor with what timing. She doesn’t think that she is supposed to.

Chalcedony sings her final lyric and Icy follows. Her voice tapers off into the void and she lets her body drop, her knees hit the floor and her head falls back. Her hair tumbles free and her chest heaves as the instruments fall into just an echo. 

The spotlight is hot on her face. 

She stares at the ceiling. 

She listens.

And for the thirty seconds it takes the crowd to figure out how they feel, Icy holds her formerly lightly labored breath. 

The venue explodes with claps and cheers and whistles and hollers. All of the sounds that she dreaded that she wouldn’t hear. 

Chalcedony helps her back to her feet and pulls her into a hug, with a pat on the back. “Thanks for letting me sing with you again.” 

“Sure.” Icy replies. 

She returns to the microphone and the Winx girls come back on the stage. She introduces them one by one, a formality more than anything. Darcy gives a shout out to the crew and Stormy gives a shout out to the merch workers and the tour bus driver and also the guy who recommended that she try the spider’s spice spaghetti at that one restaurant that she enjoyed way too much. 

Icy takes her place in front of her microphone. “And for those of you who aren’t familiar I would like to thank a former…friend for providing guest vocals on our soon to be released track.” She gestures to her former bandmate, “Chalcedony.” 

They clap for her. 

Icy had been subtle in her word choice.

They don’t put two and two together for a good while after the show.

Icy is content with that.

Content to let them speak the words that she has left unspoken.

.oOo

The Trix no longer have one particular sound. 

And maybe that is for the best. 

She can be a stickler about genres in a brand new way.

Now that the Trix fall into several of them she can emphasis the importance of distinguishing all of them and their sub-genres and she can do it with the expertise that only a band that dabbles in a little bit of this and a little bit of that can. 

It is uncomfortable and sublime all at once, to settle into her new old life.

A life that is still spent inside a lot of underground hole-in-the-wall bars but with a glass of water or virgin mint juleps instead of absinthe and vodka. 

Now and then she sees Darko and the Wizards. They thrive in the same scenes so their paths are bound to cross now and then. They never speak. 

And maybe that is for the best too. 

He had known her in a portion of her life that she has outgrown. 

She does isn’t sure that he exactly fits into whatever kind of life she has now. She doesn’t think that he has any interest in doing so either. He doesn’t need to forgive her and she doesn’t need to answer Riska when the woman tries to reach out. 

She hasn’t forgotten; “I swear…if I have to run through this routine one more time because of you…”

Riska has.

And maybe that is precisely where her resentment comes from. 

They don’t even realize that she remembers. 

At least she can say that she knows what she had done to make Darko resent her. 

Lucy slips into the barstool next to her. “Did I tell you guys that your whole tour was incredible?” She throws her arms into the air heedless of the full glass in her hand. 

“Only about twice per day since we got back from it.” Darcy rolls her eyes. 

“Okay well here’s number two.”

“Heehee, number two.” Stormy chuckles into her drink.

“Ugg, you’re gross.” Darcy mutters. 

“Here’s your second remind of the week…”

“Third.” Icy corrects. “This is the third time that you’ve informed us that…”

“That was the coolest tour I have ever stalked!”

“At least she’s calling it what it is.” Darcy clanks her glass onto the table. 

“I attended every single show and every single show was different and unique and…” her slur tapers off as she stumbles her way up to the bar counter, propping herself up between Icy and Darcy. If not for familiarity, it would be an uncomfortably close proximity. Icy can smell the liquor on her. “I swear! I was a little worried when I heard that you’d be partnering with that creatueast.” 

“Creatueast?” Darcy rubs her face. She shifts her glasses to pinch the bridge of her nose.

“I think that she was trying to say creature and beast at the same time?” Stormy guesses. 

“I am so not a creatueast.” Bloom repositions herself in Icy’s lap. 

“Debatable.” Icy says. 

“Well I’m glad that it didn’t blow up…!” she throws her hands up again nearly smacking Darcy in face and swatting Icy squarely on the ear. 

“Geez…” Icy grumbles. 

But she knows that the ambiance wouldn’t be the same without Lucy’s drunk antics and overwhelming, slightly agitating enthusiasm. She can’t say that she would change it, if she wanted to she would have told the woman to fuck off ages ago.

“In your faces! Yeah, I’m real glad about that. And look! You guys are at the top of the charts, like most of them!” 

“We know.” Darcy nods.

“The Winx are also there but it’s fine. Whatever. What matters is that witches are finally getting the fame we deserve.” She slaps her hand onto counter, rattling the ice in Icy’s mint julep. “Yeah. We’re finally getting attention and stuff. I’m surprised that your collab sounds so good. I didn’t think that I’d like your new stuff.”

“Good to know.” Icy notes. 

“No! No! Like that’s a good thing…” she trails off. “Not good, wicked. We witches don’t refer to things that are cool as good. Ya know? Yeah, I know that you know…” 

“She gets less and less comprehensible the more she talks.” Icy mutters to Bloom “In a few minutes she’s going to be talking exactly like you.” 

“Hey!” Bloom shouts.

Icy flinches. “Can I have at least one undamaged ear tonight?” 

A rhetorical question.

The answer is no.  

It wouldn’t be a night out without at least some form of vaguely entertaining torment. It certainly beats the type of torment that she had left behind somewhere in Dyamond. Bloom stretches herself out across not just Icy’s lap but Darcy’s as well. The witch of darkness slumps over the bar counter in defeat, burying her face in her arms only to have Stormy jab her and ask if she’s still “feelin’ it tonight.” 

It is comfortable, Icy thinks, this special brand of chaos. 

It helps her settle into whatever type of life that she has now.

Her flip phone vibrates. She opens it and texts Chalcedony that it too loud to take a call but if she fancies a new scene she can join them at the bar. She doesn’t expect anything but a ‘thanks but no thanks, I’ll call you tomorrow.’ 

Sometimes she meets Chalcedony in the cafes that the two of them used to frequent. She no longer listens to that acoustic indie bullshit but she still drinks the same coffee; iced with a rather heavy swirl of whipped cream and caramel syrup—never chocolate. She doesn’t care for chocolate. 

Chalcedony smiles at this. 

It reminds her…

Reminds both of them that she is still her at her core. 

She still has to get used to it; the way people look at her now that most people have connected the dots. The attention she gets from the revelation; from people seeing a face that they have seen before but in a different way.

The sudden resurgence of MeTor’s popularity. 

Chalcedony doesn’t have the heart to tell them that they aren’t getting a MeTor reunion. Maybe it is because she still hopes that Icy will change her mind. She will not; she hasn’t clawed her way out of it just to throw herself back into that abysmal place. A place where she couldn’t stand herself; not the self that she had been born as nor the self that she had created. 

She is mostly comfortable here where she is now. Sitting in a room that smells like nicotine and liquor with a charmingly stupid, beautiful, aggravating, accepting and (sometimes) comical fairy in her lap. Nestled somewhere between Kyanite and Icy. And content with the overlap. 

Lucy throws her arms over her shoulder and Stormy’s and leads them into a drunken rendition of what could be one of their songs but the lyrics are so botched that she can’t quite tell. 

“I’m glad that you’re handling all of these changes so well.” Bloom says.

“Yeah.” Icy replies. “I mean of course I am, I always handle everything with poise and high intellect.” 

“I’m glad that you don’t hate yourself.” 

She is too. 

This whole revelation…

It could have gone so badly. 

It probably would have too if she hadn’t earned herself a real sense of confidence. 

People talk. They talk a lot. Mostly MeTor fans that have a lot of opinions about her ‘disappointing’ new look and attitude. The same attitude that make is so she can’t really be arsed with their opinions anymore. She has her own crowd. And she delights in that she has managed to pull a few MeTor fans out of that annoyingly perky pop scene into the world of dark dance music.

“Do you like yourself?”

“Huh?” 

“Not hating and actually loving yourself aren’t the same thing. Do you love yourself.”

“Sure, Bloom.”

“Why is it that you only talk about how great you are when it’s irrelevant to do so?”

Icy shrugs. “Part of my charm, I guess.” 

Darcy rolls her eyes. 

She thinks that maybe she does though. 

Love herself. 

Icy touches the Kyanite pendant hanging around at her chest. And maybe is fond of Kyanite too.

[wind-rider]

hey :) can i ask for stuff from the mythology you talked about in infodump? or more specific things about how cyrinism is / can be expressed?

OH BOY CAN YOU

I'm going to talk about BOTH and this post is going to be SO long and you can't stop me

MYTHOLOGY

(Theft of the Moon, art by yours truly, 2024)

Overview

I'm just going to talk about the mythology for the POV culture because I cannot possibly go into the other ones without this becoming a whole-ass dissertation. So, just assume that everything that follows is specific to that culture/belief, though variations of it do definitely exist in other cultures in the world (including the variation I spoke about in the infodump channel; as it's not the exact one used in the story, I'll leave it for later).

To begin with, the various figures in the mythos are p much entirely represented by specific animals or general inhuman Creatures! Exactly how many figures there are depends on the specific subset of the religion, as there are regional variations, but the simplest and most widespread of them has only two: Cana and Korr.

At their base, they are the representations of the concept of opposites, in all the forms those take. Respectively, they are Sun and Moon, Day and Night, Light and Dark, Destroyer and Creator, Hunter and Hunted, Death and Life, Fool and Trickster and so on. Their most popular representations are of the Sun and Moon.

Cana, the Sun, is depicted as a canid of some kind; usually a dog, though occasionally a wolf or fox. The Moon, Korr, is naturally depicted as a cat, whether housecat or panther (or other big cat) depends on the teller, era, and locality.

A lot of superstitions revolve around these animals as a result; a dog, especially one with pale fur, was seen as a herald of disaster or drought, while a dark-furred cat was revered as a sign of good fortune. The opposites, ie a dark-furred dog or a pale-furred cat, had different meanings; the former a symbol of either betrayal or resistance, and the latter one of instability and change or triumph over evil. Dogs were unheard of as pets in the region until only a century or two before the modern day, and cats are still far more common.

The concept of light and heat as a harbinger of destruction and ill fortune is generally seen as having arisen from the unforgiving desert and savannah environment that the POV culture arose within. The country within which the story takes place, Havel, has grown more secular in recent decades, but some neighbouring countries that, unlike Havel, have not become as much of a cultural melting pot over time, still retain these beliefs as a significant part of daily life.

Creation Myth

In the beginning, there was only the Renn, or the Empty, a state of non-existence at the beginning and end of the Universe. The Renn was the absence of everything- it was not dark, nor light, it was simultaneously infinitely dense and containing no matter at all. It did, however, have a single imperfection: the point of collapse of the world before it, the tiniest seam in the Nothing that cloaked it. Time didn't yet exist again- the seam simply was, an antithesis to all that didn't exist around it. From the seam spread an Imbalance, and from there, two forms in symmetry, unfolding outwards and bringing with them Existence.

These forms were the original Twins, Cana and Korr, the light and the darkness. Like all things, they existed in opposition- one could not exist without the other, but they actively counteracted each others' existence. Cana's bright burning self forced Korr to protect himself, lest they were both destroyed. From the once-Renn around the, he surrounded himself in soil and stone, and settled there, within the delicate shell of the newborn World. There, in the safety of the dark, he created Life, and bided his time until he might emerge once more.

Night and Day, and the Theft of the Moon

For a long time, the sky was dominated by only Cana. The sun reigned over all, and daytime was eternal, leaving the world a scorched and lifeless place. Cana's shadowy twin, Korr, couldn't stand to emerge from beneath the ground lest he be destroyed by her light.

However, one day, he decided to try and speak with her. He waited until she was resting on the horizon, a rare moment where the heat and light wasn't so strong, and crept up to just beneath the surface, hiding in the shadows of a narrow cave. From there, he told her of all the wonders of life that were trapped below the earth from her heat, and if she could perhaps share the sky with him, they could emerge and she would no longer be alone within it.

Cana refused- she didn't trust her brother's tales, and she was afraid of the cool darkness he described. But Korr didn't relent, and eventually, they came to an agreement- she would hide herself for one minute, and allow her brother alone to emerge and walk the surface for that time, no longer. But Korr was cunning, and as she hid, now blind without her own fire, he snuck through the shadows and snatched a piece of her light.

Furious, she gave chase to burn him back beneath the earth, but despite how his stolen light burnt in his mouth, Korr didn't stop running, and shadow fell over the earth in his wake, becoming night.

Here, the story differs according to the telling. Some say that the moon is that stolen light still held in Korr's teeth, trapped in an eternal chase through the sky. Others say that he tried to hide it, and it burned half of him away, becoming his pale twin Pyrrhus, running as the moon alongside him in the night. Either way, the ending is the same: the siblings continue to chase, and day continues to turn to night, and with just a little less light burning from Cana's paws, life was able to emerge and grow.

Another variant of the story, central within Havel's Church of the Blind Creator, tells that Korr was blinded by his stolen light and swallowed it, causing his descendants, Cyrin, still to burn from the inside. Most Cyrin's tendency to easily overheat, often resulting in harm to themselves, is the reasoning for the latter. This is in contrast to the primary telling of Cyrin's origins, which says that in revenge for Korr's betrayal, Cana cursed/blessed (depending on the teller's opinion) some of his proudest creations, humans, with her fire and strength, and those were the first Cyrin. To some, this painted Cyrin as harbingers of loss and destruction; to others, gifted ones tasked with using Cana's power for good and new creation.

-- -- --

This is getting really long, so I'll make a new post for Cyrinism later and tag you so you see it. Thanks for asking!!! Please feel free to ask any further questions or clarification on anything I've talked about here :]

[krakrac]

hi! day, bling and change for any of your OCs pretty please ^^

day: What does your OC wear on a normal day? Why do they default to those clothes? Do they wear similar things, or do they change it up?

This is universal for almost all of my OCs and people on Kélas in general: most people own a so-called Damsetian tunic (which is the tunic which my OCs wear in most of my drawings) with its high collar. It can be made with various fabrics based on region and it comes in a lot of types for any weather and in different lengths and colors. There are two main variations – with sleeves (short or long) and sleeveless.

A shirt is worn under this tunic, usually linen, but they come in a lot of variations as well, some for warmer, some for colder weather, some as an undergarment and some as a piece of clothing that can be worn on its own.

Coats and especially cloaks are very common and are used either for warmth or against rain and wind.

The most popular hats are winter hats similar to ushankas. Fairly common are also vaguely cowboy looking hats that are widespread mainly in the Amar Steppes.

I haven't thought about pants and shoes much, so there is nothing interesting about them as of now.

Of course each culture has its own additional pieces of clothing (and some have nothing to do with the Damsetian tunic at all, especially the southernmost and northernmost cultures), but the above basically describes what Nyr and Yrsk wear on a daily basis.

I could also yap about uniforms of the Leiki's Knights but I'll probably show it instead some other day because I have the design for those more or less done.

bling: What jewelry does your OC wear? Does it have any meaning?

I'm not a fan of jewelry myself so I literally just forget that it exists which results in only like two OCs wearing jewelry 😭 Hara wears it mainly because it is common in her culture, Rasanian people are basically the backbone of this kind of stuff as huge amount of jewelry in all of Kélas was made in Rasan.

The other OC is Rivalis which is not surprising given she is a queen of the Empire. She actually doesn't really care about it, she dresses up and wears shiny jewelry just because her status more or less requires it and she loves to be the beautiful, stunning and godly ruler to her people.

change: Has your OC ever drastically changed their appearance? Significant haircuts, big tattoos, complete wardrobe swap, etc? Why? How do they feel about the change?

Oh well >:) *rubs hands*

First Yrsk, he had to change wardrobe completely after Yarhaq, his swordplay teacher, took him to Sorka for training. Not only is the culture there completely different, even the land itself is as different from his homeland as it can be. So he wore clothes fit for desert and the scorching sun, which he wasn't the biggest fan of, but the clothing itself he actually liked, especially how it flew in the wind.

Nyr significantly changed clothing once for like a week, against his will and he HATED every second of it. Heartbreaking – poor autistic boy was forced to wear luxurious clothes whose texture drove him crazy 💔💔 I fucking love thinking about this one, I would've never thought that I could psychologically torture my OCs with clothing.

[bigskydreaming]

Sometimes when I'm writing Lilith I have to stop and think about the fact that despite how long her character has been around, she's so rarely used and so wildly and arbitrarily recharacterized each and everytime she is, she doesn't really HAVE an existent long-running characterization. At least not so much as she has half a dozen wildly unrelated character traits haphazardly packed together in a tight enough huddle that they can all fit under her signature cloak and hood.

Not that her hood and cloak are iconic because of any particular narrative or character element, so as to be clear. Lil's pretty much associated with that look for no real reason other than: they gave her a cloak and hood in the 90s', because. Like. It was the 90s'. They kinda just...did stuff like that in the 90s'.

Look, the truth is for as much as a ton of us all throw 'it was the 90s' and 'what do you expect, we're talking about a comic from the 90s' and other variations of 'Man. LOL. Marvel and DC in the 90s, am I right guys?' every which way on any and every social media platform ever, as though like, that really does just sum it all up and yup, we sure did say something with that string of four words we put together there, all by ourselves....

Like, the thing about that is its one of those things you kinda just SAY for lack of any better way to put into words what it is you mean by that, even while knowing full well that there's like, pretty much NO chance that for any given 9 out of 10 other people you come across throwing similar phrases around twitter or tumblr.....like, they're more than likely not going to be picturing anything all THAT close to whatever first pops into YOUR head when you "It was the 90s" about a comic book and leave it at that.

Its really actually very hard to put into words what I'm getting at here, other than to just say....."comics in the 90s" is one of those utterly useless phrases that everyone says and yet doesn't actually mean anything at all because no two people actually mean the same thing when they say that and this is a thing that everyone who says that is very aware of......

But at the exact same time, "comics in the 90s" is one of the most accurate and easily understood and related to phrases that everyone says while knowing they don't actually have any idea what the other person is picturing but that doesn't matter because we still know that somehow, some sense of what we actually DO mean is making it across the great communication divide between brains and our wavelengths are syncing. We both nod. Yeah dude. You get it.

What does dude get? You don't actually know, even though you literally just said that dude got it and you were being SINCERE, you truly meant that you genuinely believed that on some level, in some sense, dude did still in fact get it. Even while at the exact same time you yourself haven't the slightest confidence that if some sci-fi gizmo were to beam down from Star Trek heaven or whatever and make it possible to pluck the precise thoughts and images your "comics in the 90s" conversation with Dude conjured in his mind and then put all that on screen alongside four other options....there was still like, a random one in five chance of you somehow picking the right one out of that lineup, and it honestly would have fuck all to do with any particular specifics that came up in your earlier conversation.

Comics in the 90s. It means absolutely nothing while somehow still communicating certain ideas and impressions and sentiments pretty clearly, but not clearly in the sense that any two people have anywhere close to an actual CLEAR idea of what someone else means, but still somehow clearly enough that like. You nod, appeased because Successful Communication was somehow still achieved even if in no form actually accepted or understood as actual useful or accurate communication.

So just so you know, if the phrase comics in the 90s or a 90s comic book doesn't actually mean anything to you because you werent reading comics then, and you havent read 90s comics at any point since then in a way that keeps books from that decade and that decade only lumped together in some kind of strange, awkward cohabitation space and identifies them all as being part of a shared set that's not really based on overlapping or similar characters or genres or themes or messages or settings or writers or premises or tropes, just.....Vibes. Vibes only....

Well. The one thing I can tell you about comics in the 90s and when people talk about comics from the 90s....is that one thing you're always gonna hear a lot of people say about a lot of different books and different narrative choices made within those books.....is just: Idk, really. It was just the 90s, y'know. They did stuff like that.

You will hear it offered up a lot in a way where context will reasonably lead you to conclude that the above explanation is being put forth as a likely explanation for why a specific character choice or narrative choice or editorial choice was made in a particular comic written at some point in the 90s.

You would be absolutely valid in feeling an urge to check for hidden cameras and for the host of some kind of internet prank show to pop out when you see people nod sagely in response to this proferred explanation as though they accept it as an actual explanation that actually did explain something somehow and that they feel that the initial question was in fact accurately or even adequately answered by this explanation.

Just know that you have not actually entered the Twilight Zone, and also, no one is intentionally trying to gaslight you. A conversation did happen there, an exchange of ideas and impressions was communicated, and as incomprehensible as that might probably seem a lot of the time, unfortunately its unlikely any participant of that conversation will be able to clarify further and actually break down what was communicated and how.

We genuinely, truly don't know, is the thing. When I say: "Lilith Clay's pivotal turning point from her earlier characterizations and depictions pre-90s to the mysteriously cloaked floating cipher figure she's existed as ever since the 90s occurred somewhere in the 90s, and this radical shift in how she was portrayed CAN be pointed out as a being a clear demarkation point between the two vastly different versions of Lilith, and cited as the point in time where this point here, this place in time here, this is when Lilith stopped being associated with the stuff she'd been previously associated with and brought to mind in the forms that she'd previously been illustrated in....."

Like all of that is pretty clear and self-evident enough.

But when I continue on from there to say:

"And I can point you to WHEN the change happened and show clear before and after evidence that proves that this is in fact where the seismic character shift occurred, I can even say if Lilith hadn't been used in the 90s and just gone into comic book Limbo and only brought back at some point after the 90s, there's a strong chance she would not have ever ended up as altered as she was by that decade, and she'd be a lot more visibly and narratively recognizable as the character she'd been pre-90s."

And this leads someone to ask the very understandably relevant followup question: "Okay so WHY did that big a change occur though? What were the reasons given for such a dramatic shift, what was said in the stories and by the characters and the writers to explain or justify why Lilith just one day started showing up to Superhero Meetings in ominous trying super hard to be Spooky and Mysterious Garb also I'm Omen now, call me Omen, Lilith is dead, long live the Omen, but not the creepy little kid from the movie because fuck that kid, I still hate kids, that part hasn't changed..."

This is when the communication breakdown occurs.

Because here is the point where all I can do is shrug and super helpfully inform you that I have absolutely no idea what most of the characters thought about the switch from Original Recipe Lilith to "So Apparently This is Still Lilith, Guys, Any Questions For Her? Seriously? Nobody?"

Like, nobody knows is the thing. No explanation was ever actually given in story. Nobody ever really treated this in story as noteworthy enough TO comment on even though the differences are night and day. Everyone just rolled with it and never stopped and at some point it just....became that thing where we were like oh okay, I see. Cool. Cool cool cool. This is just. New Lilith because Reasons and we're never actually going to get or hear or learn those reasons because like. There were never actually any real reasons and that's why no writers ever felt that these changes needed to be discussed or acknowledged within the pages of the comics either because well. That would imply that there actually WERE Reasons to be found somewhere, thereby insinuating that somebody should probably go and find out who knows what they are so they can share them with the class actually.

And thus, in the end, the literal only explanation I CAN ever offer for anyone who asks why Lilith went from who she was back in the 80s to who she's been ever since the 90s, what was the purpose, the point, did editorial mandate the character be revamped, was there a storyline all of that was originally meant TO lead into that just never happened, etc, etc, etc....

"Nope. Nothing like that. The answer to your question 'what the fuck was up with all the changes to Lilith in the 90s, what was the reason any of it happened in the first place' is as far as I or anyone else I know has ever been able to tell....is just....

"I mean, it was the 90s. Comics in the 90s kinda just.....did stuff like that and that's really the only way to say it. Lilith stopped being Lilith and became New Lilith and I would love to tell you that somewhere, someone has an actual reason for that or can speak to the thought process that put all of those changes into play and say whose idea it was and why they felt it was a good one, but like. Honestly? It was just the 90s. Like, the decade itself, or the anthropomorphized zeitgeist of 90s comics, lol. Its That Dude's fault, They did it. They killed Original Recipe Lilith. She's dead and we got this Other Lilith instead and it wasn't even because one of the many, MANY dramatically continuity-altering Crisis events happened, because this was nowhere near any of that and also that might actually make way too much sense and allow for a satisfactory explanation and there will be NONE of that here!"

But yeah. So that's what happened to Lilith. The 90s happened to her, it did it, like, the whole decade itself, and the absolutely, obnoxiously HILARIOUS part of it all is after all of that, ultimately the simplest way to ever answer the same question in the future would be to again just say "Idk, honestly. It was just the 90s, yknow?" and leave it at that.....

And no matter how little sense it might make if you're not in the iykyk portion of the audience for this part........tbh, most other fans I know who were reading comics in the 90s and have their own particular associations with that decade and its influence on comics, no matter what they are in contrast to my own or how much or how little overlap exists between our impressions...

I can say "The 90s happened," and shrug and for as little as that actually offers in terms of explanation, most 90s comics readers will just blink at that, take it at face value and go "Bummer. We lost some good ones that decade."

And that's the story of the non-answer for Why Is Lilith Like This Now Tho and how its actually just "The 90s did it" and for all that this is a nonsense answer that shouldn't convey anything because it doesn't actually say or explain anything, it still somehow happens to be not just the correct answer but the only answer, and most readers from them can hear that and think yeah that tracks. I get it.

And they do and I hate that because I AM NOT A FAN OF COMMUNICATION THAT DOESN'T ACTUALLY COMMUNICATE OR MAKE ANY SENSE ESPECIALLY IF DESPITE HOW MUCH I HATE THAT I STILL SOMEHOW END UP AGREEING THAT NO BUT IT DOES MAKE SENSE AND COMMUNICATE POINTS WELL. I CANT TELL YOU HOW OR WHY BUT IT DOES STILL WORK.

Booooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo.

Comics in the 90s, you have so much to answer for.

Like I genuinely hate everything about everything I just said in this post so fucking much, you have no idea.

Also I genuinely stand by everything I just said in this post. I know its ridiculous, and brain-breaking and makes no sense and I don't get it and neither should you. There's nothing to get. Its just also that it does make sense and I do get it and I get it if you don't get it but for those of you who do get it, like. Yeah, you get it.

If it helps at all, I can promise you that nobody is more annoyed about all of this than I am. It literally makes me want to fight the 90s. Like, the actual decade. I want to find it in like, idk, some appropriately weird liminal Twilight Space like idk a Denny's at 2 am on February 29th or what the fuck ever and just be like hey, The 90s, literally what the fuck. We need to talk. Why were you like that. Did you even TRY not being like that? Who hurt you?

fanklfhnklahfklahflahklkhflakhflahflafahlf

[bisexualboysbroadcast]

okay, are you ready? here’s my be mine superstar melt:

1. I am unbearably obsessed with the personality “swop” that happened between these two actors. going from fiat our little sunshine brat in dsn to Ashi our regal serious actor in bms and Leo our serious big boy protector in dsn to actual puppy sunshine baby punn in bsm -> getting a swop like that shows me their range as actors but also just different sides to their acting personalities and how well they know each other which is pure magic in romance

2. I’m OBSESSED with the way they met. like yes punn is madly in love with ashi as a fan boy (the little poster kiss really ruined my life), but to have an accidental bump in meet-cute and then (as far as it looks like the plot is heading) to end up working together is a delightful start to their story (cause it alludes to plot directions like “oh fuck I’m in love with you what am I supposed to do with these feelings??” , and “secret relationship eras (my beloved)” and “how can you date him you’re just a student intern and he’s a superstar” and “but I love him. I love him.”. can you tell I’m ready for this?)

3. the sets for this show seem to be out of this world. not just in relation to the period drama ashi (and co) are acting in but also the cafe where punn met his friends, the bar where doctor and superstar met (HAH!), punn’s mom’s cafe, dad’s art studio. all of it is so good. and from what I can see they really seem to be using the lighting and set structure to show personalities which is incredible in and of itself. (e.g. if you notice the lighting and set is pretty light/airy/flowing when punn is the central focus (that shower scene speaks for itself); but quite dark/wood/sort of solid when ashi is the focus)

4. the costumes, oh good god, the costumes! firstly just how beautiful the period drama stuff is ! ashi’s white cloak? and title’s full princely (guard?) suit? IMMACULATE. but also their casual clothes. ashi being so neat, tidy, and elegant always. versus punn who is soft and comfy (that lil grey cardigan did so much for my heart). as far as I can see (and probably because there’s been so many costume changes as a result of ashi’s job), there hasn’t been any colour coding between him and punn (yet?). so not much to say on the blue boy/red boy (/other colour variations) connotations. they may just play this out in style more than colour which is always less obvious but satisfying all the same, but I guess that’s just a waiting game.

5. so so happy with all the touching we’ve had. and I don’t just mean punn and his delusional body pillow cuddling (although that’s so relatable). but also between doctor and superstar (I really need to get to their names lmao) -> their entire scene was iron melting! the thumb swipe across the bottom lip, the finger brushing against the hand, the dancing (holy fuck), and then naturally the sex. SO GOOD. but also yes punn and his little prayer to his ashi poster, punn and his brother pai fighting (ah sibling love), even the touching between the three superstar friends. I like that the intimacy of touching is already being shown in a full range of ways. parents to children, sibling to sibling, friend to friend, love interests, lust. EATING SO GOOD!

anyway, now that I’ve talked y’all’s ears off, I am so happy to have a Monday night (more like Tuesday morning) watch for the next few weeks and I’m beyond excited for wherever this one will take us !!

[peach-the-owl]

Hope im not too late :)

Wondering if you could show the Clay family some love! Maybe a little one got left on their doorstep or their mother passed away from a illness and the clays where nice to take them in!

Hope you are doing well! I know taking a break is something everyone needs now and then! Sending lots of hugs and sweet your way!

Hello Corn! (can I call you Corn, is that alright?) Thank you for the kind words, it means a lot ❤️ And I agree, all the love for the Clay family

I decided that the reader was an elf. Why? Idk, just because I guess

Welcome to the Family

Clay Family & Child!Reader

Set pre-campaign 2

Constance had decided to take an evening stroll to survey the area, the blight hadn’t spread any further yet, which she was very thankful for but why this sudden urge to walk so far was unclear, perhaps the Wildmother may have something to show her. She picks up the sound of muffled cries and hurries to the location, gasping in shock at the lone infant left on the ground, their long, pointed ears easily giving away their heritage. Immediately Constance lifts the child into her arms, noting they weighed next to nothing. The sudden movement has the baby crying harder.

“Shhhh… shhhh… it’s alright little one. I’m not going to hurt you.” She calms the infant, their cries turning into soft whimpers. “There you go dear. Let’s get you home.” Constance makes her back to the temple, careful with her movements as to not disturb the child again. She takes this extra time to look over the baby, aside from the light weight they seemed unscathed by anything, and after holding the child for so long she could feel an almost divine power surging through them. She was now certain the Wildmother brought her this child for a reason, what that reason was is yet to be fully determined but she had high faith in what was to come.

“Mama! Where did you go? You were gone so long!” Clarabelle’s voice pulls the mother from her thoughts. “Whatcha got there?” She tilts her head trying to see what her mother was holding.

“Clarabelle, dear. Could you get your father and siblings for me?” Constance asks. With an eager nod Clarabelle dashes off calling for the rest of the family. Watching her youngest daughter dash away, Constance got to work gathering a few ingredients together to make a sort of formula to feed the child in her arms. Chuckling slightly when the child greedily drank it down and finally opened their eyes, letting her see the bright (e/c) orbs. “Hello little one.” She smiles, now realizing the child still didn’t have a name. She looks at the blanket their wrapped in, a sorta tag with the shops name stitched on one of the corners ‘(Y/n)’s Capes and Cloaks Emporium’ an odd name to be sure, must’ve been a local shop wherever the child came from, though the name had a nice ring to it.

“Clarabelle says you have something to show us?” Cornelius questions as he approaches, their four children not far behind, all of them having some variation of curiosity on their faces.

“Not something, someone.” Constance corrects showing them the baby. “I’d like you all to meet our newest member to the family, (y/n). I expect you four to treat them like you would each other.”

“Does that mean I’m a big sister now!” Clarabelle jumps in place, her parents chuckle at her giddiness.

“It does… would you like to hold them?” Constance asks, Clarabelle nods eagerly. “Alright, but be very careful.” She slowly hands her daughter the little elf.

“Hi! I’m going to be your big sister, and I promise to be the best one there is.” Clarabelle smiles, eyes practically sparkling in awe, (y/n) stares at her with curious doe eyes for a moment before breaking into a small fit of giggles.

“Hey, don’t forget about me too.” Calliope huffs playfully.

“I’m gonna be a better older sister then you.” Clarabelle teases her.

“Are not.”

“Are too.” The two softly glare at each other, Clarabelle sticking her tongue out at her sister, who in turn copies her as they continue this silent rivalry. Soon enough Clarabelle notices (y/n) is no longer in her arms, taking a second to frantically look around until her eyes land on them in her brothers arms.

“No fair Caduceus, I was holding them.” She whines.

“Just making sure you don’t drop them by accident.” He simply says.

“I wasn’t.” She pouts, crossing her arms, Caduceus just gives a small shrug.

“Better safe then sorry.”

“You keep them safe? Please, I’m the protector of the family here.” Colton puffs out his chest proudly.

“Oh? Well, in that case would you like to hold them?” Caduceus raises (y/n) up to be at eye level with Colton. (Y/n) tilts their head to one side before slapping their little hand onto Colton’s snout making him jump back slightly, they proceed to giggle at his reaction, as do the other three. “I think I’m really going to like you.” Caduceus turns (y/n) to face him again, they yawn in response.

“Okay, that’s enough. It’s been a long day for (y/n) and they’ll as much rest as they can.” Constance informs, walking over to take (y/n) from Caduceus.

“But didn’t auntie Corrin once say elves don’t need as much rest as we do?” Calliope asks.

“That may be true when their older, but (y/n)’s still very young and thank the Wildmother I found them when I did, and they’re doing a lot better already. But they’re still not in the best condition, and are going to need to regain a lot of strength before they take part in any activities.” Constance then starts rocking the baby in her arms, easily lulling them to sleep while her other children let out slight disappointed awww’s.

“You kids heard your mother, nothing too exciting and crazy around your new sibling. Now let’s get inside, I’d say it’s getting pretty dark out.” Cornelius wasn’t wrong, they sky had darkened quite significantly in this time. Slowly but surely everyone made their way into the temple to go about their nightly rituals before finally settling down for bed.

Figured I’d keep this one pretty simple, maybe I’ll do more for this future? We’ll see