#and when they're finished she tries to take over doing the dishes too

[dylanconrique]

antsy tim poking around lucy's kitchen while she's cooking cause no one has cooked for him outside of genny who's only specialty is kraft macaroni & cheese and feels weird about sitting around not contributing to anything.

[thepandalion]

I fucking HATE creepy crawlies

[woso-dreamzzz]

Heart IV

Mapi Leon x Ingrid Engen x Child!Reader

Summary: A soft day off

"Well, good morning, sunshine," Ingrid coos as you wander out of your room.

You've got a major case of bedhead, still dressed in your crumpled pyjamas. You lift your arms up for uppies and Ingrid instantly puts you on her hip, turning back to stirring the eggs on the stovetop.

You're still very sleepy so Ingrid takes this moment to give you your medication.

"Open, please."

She drops the pills into your mouth and lets you swallow them down with a sippy cup of juice.

You're very good at taking your medication and it seems to perk you up a little as Ingrid dishes up breakfast.

It's a slow day, the last of the international break.

Ingrid's matches for Norway had finished earlier than other countries so she'd flown home immediately to get the most out of this day off before training started up again tomorrow.

"Would you go and get your Mami for me? I think she's still in bed."

You're helped down from the counter and wander off to Mami and Mama's room.

Mama was right, of course. Mami was still a lump in the middle of the bed, snoozing carelessly against her pillow. Bagheera sits next to her.

You know Mama told you to get Mami up but you spot her phone on charge a little way away and you go to grab it.

Tia Alexia has lots of games on her phone that she lets you play and you wonder if Mami has those games too.

Her phone is locked though so you can't check but you do spot her camera. You can use her camera app without logging in.

Mami and Mama use their camera apps a lot for lots of photos of you and them together. You've never used it on your own though and you're curious.

You swipe onto the app and adjust it so it's showing Mami and Bagheera in frame. There's a ray of sun coming in through the curtains and you want to capture that too.

The shutter sounds when you press the button and Mami jerks awake.

Her movement shocks Bagheera off the bed and she rubs her eyes. Mami looks around in shock before her features soften when she looks at you.

"Good morning, sunshine," She says," Is that my phone?"

"Morning, Mami!" You chirp, climbing up onto the bed with her," I took a picture!"

You can't access it without logging in so Mami unlocks her phone so you can show it to her.

Her mouth is wide open, mid snore, and Bagheera's got her leg sticking upright as she cleans herself. But you've got the sunbeam very clearly on camera so you're very happy.

Mami laughs. "That's a nice picture!"

"I know!" You giggle as she tickles your tummy. "Oh! Mama said it's time for breakfast! She made eggs!"

"Well, we can't leave Mama by herself! Vamos, sunshine!"

Your favourite days are days off. You get to cuddle with Mama and Mami and get lots of kisses because they love you so much.

You eat breakfast on the sofa for once in front of the tv before you migrate to playing with Bagheera on the floor. She's got a bell on a string that you wave at her.

She bats it a few times before grabbing the bell in her mouth and pulling the stick from your hand.

You giggle and Bagheera cocks her head to the side at the sound.

She looks adorable and you pat Mami's leg.

"Hmm? What is it?"

"Can I have your phone please?" You ask and Mami hands it to you.

You swipe onto her camera quickly and take your pictures of Bagheera looking very cute. She gets bored eventually of sitting in the same spot and curls up in her kitty bed and you migrate back up onto the sofa.

Mama adjusts you so you're on her lap and she pulls up your shirt to run her fingers over your Santa Heart scars.

She does that a lot. She checks them twice every day. Usually when you wake up and then at bathtime. She says that it's just so she knows they're healing correctly but they've been healed for a while now and Mami says it's because Mama is a worrier.

You smile at her though and raise the camera up to take a picture of her face.

You laugh at the silly face she pulls so you snap a few more.

"Mami!" You whine when Mami tries to take her phone back.

"I need it, sunshine," She laughs," It's not just a camera, you know."

You think of the camera hanging in Mama and Mami's room. You know you're not allowed to touch it by yourself because it's big and heavy and it's for the pictures when Mami thinks Mama is looking especially beautiful.

You think that you'd like a camera like that so you ask. You asked Santa for a new heart and you got it. You ask Mama for a camera for yourself too.

"Like Mami's, please?"

Mama hums as she thinks about it, carding her fingers through your hair. "That's a little big for you, sunshine. Maybe when you're older."

You deflate. "Oh."

"But we can get you a polaroid," Mama continues," That's good for your age and it means that your pictures immediately get printed out too."

"Really?" You perk up again.

"We'll pick one out together," Mami says, already booting up her laptop." Come here. Let's have a look."

[missmarveledsblog]

CALL ME CUPID (JOEL MILLER X READER)

Summary: when Ellie notices  the longing looks joel  gives  the woman in the canteen who does the same when joel isn't looking  she take it as her sole mission to set them up and even has a helper in her endeavours 

It's a fluff age gap sort of thing. slight angst 

when ellie first caught him staring , she thought it was just a fluke  like he was lost in thought while his eyes stared off into the distance . that was til the woman in his view was getting up to return her dishes, finishing her food his eyes followed her frame  . it happened every time they went to the canteen more and then when tommy held joel's attention this time  , ellie saw the woman in question looking over directly at the older miller before turning away small smile on her face. as the woman finished her meal she and walked out.

" hey tommy who is she " ellie pointed  out the door.

" oh that's y/n, she's works in the community garden , bit old for you ellie " he teased.

" funny asshole , she's  not old like you fucks either right ? " she shot back earning a curious yet confused look back .

"  she's 24 been alone for a while , maria found her on patrol she was cornered by couple of raiders, before maria went to help her out she had them on there asses  ,  i didn't believe her til i went on patrol one day and sure enough girl held her own " he shook his head still  in disbelief even though he'd seen it himself.

"  shit that is so cool " she smiled brightly.

" give me your plate and less of the cussing " joel grumbled before heading off .

  " she seeing anybody " she asked .

" why the sudden interest in Y/N , ain't you seeing Cat " tommy asked.

" not for me idiot her and joel, watch them when they're near each other its gross but in a cute way" she said before leaving the table .  running out the door before joel could call her back . " Hey Y/N , wait up shit" she panted as the woman turned . " hello i'm ellie , we've never talked before but i wanted to introduce myself " she held her hand out.

" nice to meet you ellie " she smiled softly shaking her hand .

" can you tell me about that gardening shit... sorry stuff" ellie excitedly  asked looking  for a way to get to know the woman .

"  i'm actually going to do the gardening shit if you wanna join " .

" fuck yeah let's go" . 

the whole morning was more interrogation instead as the inquisitive  front  that faded quick . " so how come your on your own" ellie asked .

" my family died , boyfriend left me usual shit " she shrugged hiding the hurt from the teenager.

"  that is shit , how long have you been travelling alone " . 

" 5 years  ,  why all the question on me " she turned to the girl.

" i like knowing about new friend and joel says i'm too nosey for my own good " .

" is that your dad, you sit with?" .

" I mean , he like my dad kinda " ellie explained the situation and everything before they got to jackson .

"  sounds like a dad to me" Y/N smiled. " sunshine , that's that i'ma call you " ellie said offhandedly .  the woman said nothing but continue her work and answering all  of ellie's questions , shooting some back before the two walked to the canteen . 

" come on join us" ellie  pulled the woman to the table she and joel sat at .

sure enough tommy could see what his what he classed her as niece was on about .  the two looking at each other  everytime the other wasn't looking ,like they took turns in stealing glances .  " son of a bitch " he chuckled . 

it didn't take long for her to worm her way into the man affections , she instantly got the usually cold man  to talk to her instead of the usual grunts  that the other resident would get anytime they tried to communicate with joel miller  .

sunshine as she now was called thanks to ellie the nickname caught on and stuck not that she minded.  she  found she hit the jackpot the day she met maria finally being apart of something after being alone for so long.   Now she was part of community and got to have meal time with her new friends  everyday  something she only ever dreamed of in the shit show of the world they lived in .  only complication was the feeling she harboured for the new man she had the pleasure of calling a friend . how could she not though  ,  you'd have to be blind to not find joel miller  attractive , those dark brown eyes alone could have a woman weak in the knee's . she couldn't help getting lost studying the details of his face when he was talking away be it to her, ellie or his brother tommy . she would get lost in his eyes or studying the curve of his nose , from the beard to even his dark curls that had grey's sprinkled throughout .

  " so it that ok with you " tommy asked making her snap out of her ogling.

" huh sorry spaced out there for a second " she shook her head .

" of course you did  , i was saying since maria is close to giving birth i need to be home more  would it be ok with you to go with joel for the next patrol " he chuckled .

" oh yeah of course when is it ? " .

" well my dear sunshine ya'll leave in the morning " tommy got up patting her on the back . 

" that ok with you ?" she turned to joel .

" of course it is darling prefer you to tommy either way better company" he winked before heading off maybe to get ready she thought . 

" you got a bit of drool right here" ellie teased . " oh shut it " she snorted before checking to see if she was actually drooling sending the teenager into a fit of laughter .  

she spent most of the night packing the essentials not that she had much but she did have a few nice clothes she was able to find on her time alone  from a few summer dresses to a bundle of nice jeans and tops  , she had a eye for finding such finds which made her popular for patrols especially with the women of the community  that and her dab hand at fixing clothes something she would do with her mother when she was younger . a past time she missed dearly sitting with the woman while she would talk of the world before the infected all the things like her parent would do  date nights and social event with friends something that seemed like a dreamland.   the love they had for each other was something she wanted for herself  but never thought could happen it was like she was never good enough for anyone in that way . 

 Her ex,she met on her travels , he would let her know constantly she was lucky he wanted to be with her and that he would of picked someone else . everytime  he would let her know he didn't think she was anything special . one day the two bumped into a group and noticing her ex was cosying up with one of the women not caring she was right in front of them that night or that she cried herself to sleep. only  to wake up alone and her things all gone all she had was her back pack because it was her pillow , she carried it all time because it contained her parents rings and little things that meant alot for her as well as the hunting knife. leading to her rebuilding herself from the ground up .

that night she woke up in sweats a nightmare of her ex throwing her into a pit of infected calling her awful thing as they attacked her. she didn't realise she was screaming til the sound of her door breaking and  her eyes seeing joel miller standing at her door gun drawn looking for the danger .  instantly his gaze soften when took in her red puffy eyes and completely terrified expression . " ellie was sneaking out heard you screaming "he said coming closer.

"  she got herself in trouble for me " her voice still trembling .

" course she did she loves you alot if you didn't notice " he smiled sitting on side of the bed leaning back as not to be so close. 

" i had a nightmare i'll be fine seriously"  went to push him out .

" well i kinda broke your door so either i'm staying here or your coming to ours , i can leave you in open like that " he winced.

" how broken is my door " she arched her brow .

" in half but in my defence you were screaming and i was scared you were in danger " he admitted .

" you were scared for little old me " she teases yet shocked.

" course i was darling , ellie ain't the only one who cares for you now mine or yours" he asked .

" i'll get my shoes , you can grab my pillow and blanket " she got out of the bed grabbing her boots and her coat and back pack before following out . reeling in the revelation that joel miller cared for her.  

Part two

[divine-donna]

for me...formidable

i'm going to commit to the bit and make this a real thing. because i like the idea of tashi getting her fellow tennis player back in the game.

this will also be another time where i'm specifying reader's gender. so a female reader. and they're the same age as tashi.

unfortunately did i technically make covid canon in the universe? yes. yes i did.

pairing: tashi duncan x fem! reader

context: 2019 (briefly), late 2020 - 2021

"are you just going to keep eyefucking your husband? or...?"

you turn your head back to look at her. "sorry." you feel the phantom feeling of pain shooting up your leg and your fingers go to scratch at the scar on your leg.

tashi glances over. your husband and hers. playing tennis in the country club. she can overhear the conversation from them. come on art! do it! beat me!

"and how are your kids?"

"they're fine. doing well in school. having fun at sleepaway camp. it's just me in the house. feels unnatural." your stomach churns at the thought of your kids.

that's not to say you didn't love them. you loved your triplets. but your triplets reminded you that you could have had a different path. you could've had them later after you won the coveted venus rosewater dish. to finish your collection of trophies on the shelf. to finish a grand slam career title.

you feared you had aged out of the sport. and that there was no chance for you. a comeback was out of your league.

"he still keeps you at home?"

"yeah. even though i saved his career." you take a sip of your virgin strawberry daquiri. "that whole speech, the whole rebrand idea...was me. it was my idea."

"he's been keeping you locked up since college. so i'm not surprised." tashi's fingers tap on the table as she looks out at the men playing tennis.

"locked up since i got my injury." you scoff. "hate it. i hate seeing that empty space on the shelf. there's enough room for another trophy. for wimbledon." you sniffle. you blink back the tears. your husband always scolded you for getting emotional about it.

"you healed. you recovered well." tashi cocks her head to the side, and she pushes her sunglasses up so they rest atop her head. "why aren't you playing?"

"dan says...some shit about not wanting me to get hurt again. it's real bullshit."

"yeah. it is. you should play."

you raise your eyebrows, looking at tashi. "tashi."

"what? you can do it. you're still young."

"i'm 31. i don't...i don't want to be one of those players that comes back way past their prime. besides, i wouldn't even know where to start-"

"i can coach you."

you nearly spat out your drink. you swallow it down and ignore how cold it is, how it painfully travels down your system. "huh!"

"i can coach you. feel like you're...a lot easier to work with than some other people." tashi leans back in her seat. you were always receptive to her advice and criticism back at stanford. you always took things to heart because you strived for perfection and for pushing yourself.

and secretly, tashi wanted to piss off your husband. she's always hated dan.

you purse your lips. "tashi i...no. don't. you don't need to!"

"art wants to retire. after he tries for the u.s. open. win or lose. he wants to retire. i need someone new. and i think you deserve a second chance."

"that's...that's if i can even play the same. i'm old! my body is...completely different from when we were in college. i have three kids-"

"dan can watch the kids, for once. just...you don't even have to tell me now. you can think about it. if you want to play but not go with me, that's fine too. i would just hate to see a stranger try to say what you should and shouldn't do."

after all, you deserve to be cared for by the woman who knows you the best.

lockdown was a time where you really sat and thought about your tennis career.

you were tired of just taking care of the kids all day, of being locked in with them all the time.

and what you hated the most was that empty space on your shelf, staring at it all day, every day. you hated it when your husband showed it off on facetime to his friends. he almost bragged about the fact that there was a missing trophy, that you were missing a grand slam.

about two months into lockdown, you text tashi.

– let's do this – comeback of the century, right? – and i want you on board

"art's excited for you."

"is he?" you look at her as she's writing something on the legal pad. she always enjoyed the feeling of the paper. she was writing with a pen you had bought her. it was from a stationary store and the kind that had a tiny tennis ball and tennis racquet attached to the clicker.

"i think he's just happy to...relax." she looks up, watching the way your body was being stretched by the trainer. "you're a little bit older. and you have some clotting issues since giving birth. i can get in touch with some people to help craft a suit that will help."

"tashi, don't you think we're doing too much?"

"we aren't. you're older. and your body is obviously different from art's. for one, you literally made and carried three kids. we just need to get you the right equipment, get your body back into shape, and train you up."

the look of hesitation does not go unnoticed. "we can stop at any time-"

"no. i want that dish." you say it through gritted teeth. "i'm going to fucking get it."

tashi feels her lips curl into a satisfied smile. "hell yes we are."

"i registered you for a tournament. they're starting to open things back up." tashi lightly hits the ball and watches the way your legs move with precision. you hit the ball and it knocks over the cone all the way to your left. "you're basically a whole new player. some people might remember you, some won't. so we're leaning towards a new public image." she hits another ball.

you hit it and knock over the final cone.

"what does dan think about all this?" she asks.

you shake your head, wiping the sweat off of your forehead. "i'm divorcing dan."

tashi raises her eyebrows. "oh. is everything okay?"

"everything is fine. i...just hated him. don't hate the kids. they're sweethearts. and he's wasn't around enough for them to really grow attached to him. i...i was trying to work things out when he swooped in like a hawk and shoved that ring on my finger." you loved not being able to wear it. "i finally worked those things out."

"good for you. you deserve better."

like her.

but tashi would never say that out loud.

charleston. the perfect opportunity for a comeback.

you've faced worse. you had to remind yourself of that. the charleston open was not as serious as the other tournaments of the past. your hands were cold and frigid beneath the air conditioning. and they were growing numb.

"hey. hey. you're going to do great."

tashi's hands are warm. they cup your face, making you look at her and deep into her brown eyes.

she's always so warm.

"i can't feel my fingers." you mutter.

"here." she moves her hands to take yours, pressing them flat together between her own. "warm enough?"

"i can...feel it coming back."

tashi watches the way your eyes look all over the place, how they take in the crevices of the wall. you were always an observant person. you always liked looking at the walls of the locker room.

the catsuit looked really good on you too.

"what if...this is all a mistake..." you mumble.

"then it would be a waste of hard work and materials." she doesn't mean to sound cold. "and technically, you would have divorced dan for no reason."

you finally look at her. her eyes are soft. and you understand. she sees another shot within you. the same kind of shot she saw within art.

"yeah. i guess." there's the remnant of a laugh leaving you.

tashi leans forward. her lips are soft. and she tastes like prosecco. her perfume is warm with spices.

you kiss her back, leaning towards her, leaning into her. it feels right. kissing her feels right. just like that one time you two kissed in the showers at stanford.

tashi pulls away. she feels your hands. your hands were warm. hers were a little cold now.

"decimate that bitch."

[madzzz0797]

The farbidden pants

König × Femreader

I got this idea from a c.ai bot so the first paragraph is very similar to the introduction message from the chat. I tried changing it so it wouldn't be a direct copy since I don't want to steal someone else's work.

TW: 00C, discussion of sexual acts (not in detail), curse words, embarrassing public conversation, reader already has a nickname (just roll with it please) no use of y/n.

It's early in the morning when you leave your quarters after working all night long. Exhausted and still kind of sleepy, you start walking into the mess hall for coffee and a snack. At one of the table Ghost, Soap, Price, and König are sitting together having breakfast When you walk into sight, their eyes go straight to your so called "forbidden pants" you're wearing. They would never say anything to you about the pants but they all had a silent agreement about them being "forbidden". The pants hug your thighs and ass quite nicely, sitting snugly around every curve.

"Oh.my...god." König mumbles, Price's and Soap's jaw drops, while Ghost stares intensely.

After getting a cup of coffe and some toast you walk over to that table and say, "hey, can I sit by you König?" (It was no secret that he was your favorite)

König smirks and pats the empty seat beside him, "sure, I'd like that very much."

Price and Soap glare at König in jealousy "I really like your pants today Jackie," he calls me by your given nickname. It had been earned one night after you had once drank too much Jack Daniels and proposed to König in a drunken state and then fell asleep in the bathtub with an almost empty bottle in hand. They had never let it go to this day.

"Really? Thanks Soap, that means a lo-,” you started.

"Me also," Price interjects.

"Come on mate the girl was talking," Ghost speaks up for the first time since you’ve sat at the table.

You blush slightly at their compliments "Thanks, l've always liked these pants, they're pretty comfortable." You take a bite of your toast and sip your coffee.

"So does that proposal still stand or do I have a chance? Cause you clearly seen interested in König here. How about I help you forget about him beautiful?" Price asks me.

"First I only proposed once and I was drunk. Second, he never said that he didn't want to marry m-" you start.

"But he never said yes," soap says pointing his index finger in the air matter of factly.

"Kö please tell them to stop it's embarrassing," you ask. König chuckles softly at their banter.

"Soap, Price, you really are hopeless romantics. He grins mischievously before turning towards you. "Now, my dear Jackie. What is it that you wish to discuss?"

You blush and then respond, "please tell them that that only happened once and I was drunk.," you say.

"Twice actually don't forget last night at ghosts barracks," König responds.

"Seems like she really has a thing for you huh König," Price teases.

He smirks, taking a sip of his coffee, "I'm not one to gossip, but since they brought it up... I did notice that you seemed quite taken with me last night as well. Perhaps we can explore this interest further," He glances at you seductively.

"O-oh are you serious," you ask.

"Let's not act like every man here wouldn't sleep with you Jackie given the chance," Soap says.

After finishing his breakfast König gets up and leaves the mess hall. "Is it true you all want to fucking sleep with me," you question.

"We can't deny the temptation, Jackie," Price admits with a devilish grin. "But König has your attention right now, so we'll have to be patient."

"O-oh ok then,” you respond. After finishing your toast you go and put your plate with the pile of dishes. "Oi Soap, your turn for the dishes today," you call out as you leave the mess hall and head to your quarters to finish getting ready for the day.

Don't be shy! Reblog♻️ Like❤️ Comment💬

[upsidedownwithsteve]

your writing is the coolest!! if you're still doing requests, could you write about shy!reader who stresses really easily and is always mentally reminding herself of the things she has to do, even if they're quick trivial tasks. but since she's shy, she doesn't really talk about it, and one day it all compounds and she break down. but she has steve to comfort her :(

this is the most self serving thing I’ve ever written don’t @ me

Steve can practically see the list that’s been written down inside your head. Your eyes staring blankly at the counter top as the pot bubbles away, close to simmering over the edge. There’s a rolodex of things to do in your head, and you can’t see the one you’re supposed to be doing before the next one creeps up.

The furrow between your brows has been there for hours.

And the boy will ask you if you need help, if there’s anything he can do, and you’ll say no like you always do, brushing him away with a soft smile and shy kiss to the apple of his cheek. You say no because it seems silly, the way you linger on such trivial things, a list from one to twelve of tasks that are easy to do. But it builds in your brain until taking out the trash gets overshadowed by making lunch and suddenly the vacuum is in the middle of the hallway, the laundry you brought from upstairs is left on the sofa and the sink is full of soapy water with no dishes actually in it.

It gets done. It always does. It just takes a while.

And Steve doesn’t mind the chaos of it all. He can step over the vacuum cord, and when you’re not looking, he can shove the laundry into the machine. Besides, half of the pile usually belongs to him.

He hates to see you struggle though, smiling when you write it all down or list it outloud to him, each task, each time, each goal and aim. And he always smiles and nods and says, “you got it, baby.”

But now, you’re still frowning, a pout pushing at your lips as you begin to chew at your thumb and the pot of - still just water - is bubbling over and hissing as it touches the flame. You snap out of it when Steve stands behind you, one arm switching off the hob as the other curls over your shoulder and chest, bringing you into him.

He’s warm and solid and his lips at your neck is soothing. Butterfly kisses, soft and sweet, and a quiet hum of approval is gifted to you when you relax against him. His hand finds yours and he tsks when he has to drag your poor fingers away from your teeth.

“Baby.”

“Hmm?”

“Baby,” he tries again. You blink, turn and press your face into his neck. “Can we compromise?”

You don’t say anything. You just cling to his hand and breathe in his cologne, your poor mind racing, head a little sore from overthinking. You remember you had to call the bank and you sigh.

“Yeah,” you reply, voice small.

Steve smiles even though you can’t see it, big, warm hands rubbing nice circles into the skin over your arm. He squeezes you shoulder, a mini massage and you melt a little more against him. He’s practically holding you up. Another kiss, just under your ear this time.

“How about we have some lunch, yeah? Get you fed and then—” Steve shuffles you both closer to the stovetop, dumps some macaroni into the still boiling water and switches it back on, low this time. “—you can finish vacuuming and I’ll tidy the kitchen, how’s that sound?”

You turn and push into him, arms wrapping around his waist and your cheek pressed to his chest. The relief is palpable and it makes you feel even more silly. It’s only twenty past one in the afternoon, a Sunday no less, with no plans or no time limits, and all these simple tasks would be done in a few hours if you didn’t stop and start so many at once.

But it’s the way your head liked to work and sometimes, like now, it got overwhelming and the idea of going to bed with the chaos still downstairs - and in your head - was much too stressful. You nosed at Steve’s neck, fond, grateful.

You nodded. “Sounds good,” you agreed. The pasta bubbled gently and you wondered if you had enough cheese in the fridge.

You leaned up, pressed onto your toes and waited. Steve grinned, ducking down to give you what you wanted, a soft kiss that had your lashes fluttering shut, lovely enough for your head to stop pounding, for your mind to just fucking breathe.

You exhaled, warm breath fanning over Steve’s cheek and he smiled into you. Another kiss, and then another, until he was pink in the cheeks and the pasta was threatening to bubble over again.

“Thank you,” you told him and god, you really meant it.

Steve shrugged, bashful, reaching with a gentle hand to cup your chin, fingers and thumb squishing your cheeks until your lips popped into a pout and he could steal another smooch.

“Happy to help,” he replied and yeah, he meant that too.

…

[ethicaltreatmentofcowplants]

Asylum Challenge: Day 12

(Nothing to see here - just Vlad very excitedly browsing through Trendi by the looks of his current get-up)

This was the first of three days where Wicked Whims... kind of got out of hand until everyone figured out what they were into, I guess 🤔. Also I realised that I'd set the lot to the FLIRTY trait for one day and forgot about it which was... a chaotic combination to put it mildly.

So while nothing explicit will be shown, just something to keep in mind, I guess?

Look at her, look at her, she's no good at yoga. I had considered a Spa Day pack aspiration, since Lilac will likely need the inner peace going forward, but then I saw how grindy they all were.

So... Lady of the Knits!

Level One: Humble Knitter

❌ Knit for 5 Hours (2/5) ❌ Start 3 Knitting Projects While Inspired (0/3) ✅ Knit on a Rocking Chair

No, she isn't Whims related below the waist - it's just flesh toned underwear. (I had to take a second look too.)

Another early riser (easy for someone who doesn't need to go to bed) was Vlad. Along with Rory. The two... well, one occult heavyweight, and one tissueweight, actually managed to have a civil moment, perhaps with music loving Rory appreciating Vlad's skill on the piano.

Oh wait, L. is up. There goes the ceasefire, if not the entire neighbourhood.

Meanwhile the Roswells had a moment over breakfast. Could a GOOD traited Sim and her EVIL husband ever make their marriage work? Now that they're played Sims, apparently not.

While Lilac took a THOUGHTFUL SHOWER to get those creative juices flowing (takes on a whole new meaning with this mod 😬), Jacques woke up in a sad mood thanks to those voices in his head.

Clearly whatever leftover gourmet dish that Raj made the night before was the only cure.

Meanwhile Ted apparently tried to enlist Vlad in order to sway Meredith over to their EVIL ways, but as Vlad was seemingly more interested in having Ted's opinion on his potential Trendi buys, it wasn't working. Thanks to their POSSESSED late night strolls and chats, Ted is the one person in the household other than Lilac who has a positive relationship with Vlad.

As unlike L., for the most part Vlad is actually trying to be cordial to most of the household, the Watcher does lowkey feel sorry for him about this.

THOUGHTFUL SHOWER did the trick, and Lilac was able to start her three inspired knitting projects! Since that glitch where you can't resume projects is still hanging around, she wasn't able to finish them, but we'll take any loophole that we can get.

Rory started a new freelance career as a programmer (great way to work on her handiness too being a werewolf I guess 👍) while Meredith apparently didn't get the memo that On Wednesdays, We Do Crafting Hour.

Lilac kindly pointed out that mixology with the globe bar just over there would count as a creative skill. Perhaps as a result of her less than stellar relationship with Ted, Meredith appears to have decided that yes, actually a drink sounds real good right about now.

Ted literally could have gone and done anything else in the house, but instead he goes and plays Road Warrior or whatever near where Rory is trying to work, and freaks out because he's next to a transformed woof-woof. I don't think that Rory's the problem here...

Raj seemingly did not appreciate the Watcher telling him to make himself useful and to take out the trash.

It must have frozen over in Tartosa and the gameplay hell that is the My Wedding Stories pack, because L. was actually nice to Lilac! Oh right, the Watcher got her to 'scope the surroundings,' and Lilac is apparently 'very attractive' to her too.

The Watcher set the one person in the household who doesn't need to eat on the task of cooking dinner, mainly so that he's close by so that I can cancel his autonomously eating it when he has the vampire weakness where food makes him sick. Because he has a knowledge related aspiration, he's actually at a decent culinary level.

Looks like L.'s niceness allotment for the year is about to expire.

Ted and Jacques were impressed with Raj's alleged unaliving of a workplace rival, offered to recruit him to the round table of villainy. He said that he's good, thank you.

Yup, L.'s niceness streak aged like warm milk. And a reminder that she thinks Lilac is hot too!

While Vlad wisely stayed out of things by doing the dishes (he acquired the NEAT trait at some point, which is very useful to have in the household's vampire), Rory must have taken issue with L.'s meanness, because next minute they went outside, Rory was walking in with a spring in her step and L. was bruised and battered.

Just how long is it going to take these apparent occult geniuses to learn not to forbidden word with Rory?

Lilac must have been especially appreciative of her shieldmaiden in furry armour, because well. This was the one animation it was safe to show you. In fairness, it's a pretty cute one.

In less exciting news, Lilac is now on the second stage of the Knitting aspiration.

Level Two: Thread Setter

❌ Achieve Level 4 of the Knitting Skill (3/4) ❌ Knit While Listening to Music ❌ Sell a Knitted Object on Plopsy

My head is feeling full and gluggy so I may post the next couple of days in a few hours.

[kitteneddiediaz]

Hi Bazza!!! 🥰 Buddie + slow dancing for the soft prompts if it sparks joy?

Hi Maggie! Thank you for the ask!!! <3333

Buck doesn't think he's ever felt this way in his entire life. Scratch that. He knows he's never felt this way in his entire life.

When he was a kid, every time he imagined his future - his career, his partner, his life - he always assumed it would be bittersweet. That he'd be happy to love, and to have found love, but that he would always love harder and deeper than his partner would ever love him, that there would always be a little layer of pain somewhere in his heart. He's always been too much, too needy, too clingy, too broken. He tries not to blame himself, its just what he was taught to believe about who he is, despite how hard Maddie tried.

It took a lot then - and he sometimes still has days that are hard - to accept the unending flow of love Eddie poured into him, continues to pour into him, now that they're together.

It's moments like these when it hits him the hardest, just how different his life is from what he thought it'd be.

They're in the kitchen, and before Eddie - and then Eddie's family - showing him how full of love kitchens could be, the room wouldn't have pulled this sort of reaction out of him.

He's putting away the wine glasses from the last moving box still left out. Eddie's behind him at the sink, hand washing the nice new Le Creuset dutch oven they got as a house warming gift from Bobby. It was Eddie's turn to pick the morning music while they made breakfast and continued unpacking the little bit they had left in boxes.

The song fades out and theres a second pause before the next one starts, and just the opening note alone takes Buck back to two years ago.

They had only been together a month, but Buck already knows that this is what forever feels like.

Chris had been put to bed an hour ago, and they thought they'd stay up to continue watching the last show Chimney recommended to them. But by the time Buck had finished changing into pajamas to curl up into Eddie's side, the tv had been turned off, and Eddie had sweet music softly playing from Abuela's turntable he inherited after she moved. One glass of wine was on the coffee table, the other already cradled in Eddie's hand.

They sat on opposite ends of the couch - legs tangled together over the cushions in the dim lighting of the living room, chatting about their friends, their family, the pasts they had before the universe brought them together, and what they dreamed for their future.

A song Buck had never heard before flowed through the speakers, a soft and gentle melody filling into the corners of the room.

Eddie let out a low hum, blinking slow, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. He looks back up at Buck, smile widening.

"Here, come help me." Eddie says, standing and plucking the wine glass out of Buck's hand to place both on the mantle above the fireplace.

"What are we doing?"

Eddie doesn't answer, just gestures to the side of the coffee table that Buck is closest to. He takes the hint, and helps Eddie lift the table, following where Eddie is guiding him to a corner of the room to set the table back on the floor.

Eddie takes Buck's hand then, and pulls him forward to the center of the room to sway in time with the music, wrapped up in each others arms and foreheads pressed together.

Stars burst in Buck's chest. It was the first time him and Eddie had danced together. They were still in the honeymoon phase then, and Buck had always heard that things get harder once that phase is over, but in the two years that he'd had Eddie as his own, the rolling boil of love in his sternum had reduced only to a simmer. Settled and steady, but still hot and consuming.

He turns to Eddie, who is still very focussed on tipping the scales from having more dirty dishes in their house to more clean dishes in their house.

Buck throws a single packing peanut Eddie, hitting him square in the back and bouncing along the floor "Hey."

"Hey! What was that for? You didn't break any of my nice wine glasses, did you?" Eddie asks, turning to flick water from his fingers at Buck.

Buck laughs, "no! No, I didn't break anything... do you remember this song?"

Eddie's head tilts, inquisitive.

Buck continues, "it was the first song we ever danced to. Two years ago. At the old house. I think we had only been together for a month or two."

A smile breaks out on Eddie's face, eyes crinkling. "How could I forget? Pretty sure that was the first night we ever made love, too."

The memory makes Buck duck his head, heat bursting up to his cheeks.

He grabs the rag laying on the counter, reaching out to dry Eddie's hands for him. "Dance with me," he says, tossing the rag onto the counter behind Eddie and pulling him forwards.

It's the same song, the same steps, his arms curled around the same place at Eddie's waist, but it feels different today than it did two years ago. Swaying together in the bright late morning light in their kitchen now, windows open, Christopher awake in his room.

Not that two years ago they weren't open and happy and in love, but Buck does think it's crazy how far they have come since then. A dog, a new house - with room for a bigger family if they want, and a little ring he has tucked away in a box in his bedside table.

They sway together through the entire song, foreheads pressed together, trading small sweet kisses every now and then.

"We should do what we did last time we danced to this song..." Eddie says, looking up at Buck through his lashes as the song fades out.

"What if Chris needs something?"

"He's a teenager. He can fend for himself. Go tell him we're gonna take a nap, and then... come to bed." Eddie says, walking down the hallway to their room.

Buck watches him go and looks up, shooting the universe and quick 'thank you' that this is his life, that's he's this happy. One more chuckle, and he's jogging down the hall to tell Chris of their "nap" before he follows Eddie into the bedroom, love boiling out of his chest.

[kimberlyannharts]

So Darkest Hour is over, the MMPR main series has wrapped, so what do we do now? We......check out the adventures of this team led by a giant polar bear? Sure!

It's Power Rangers Infinity!

= For those who haven't seen the previews: our main character, Lola! She's cute, I like her a lot; even if admittedly BOOM has really been dishing out the Green Ranger girls one after another lately. (As for her last name being Navarro.....put in a pin in that for a second. Unfortunately it doesn't go where you might think it goes.)

= Obviously there's no way to prove it but moments like this kiiiiiind of feel like this was written back when BOOM figured they were finished with the PR license. It's a little too on the nose

= GIRL YOU LOOK SO GOOD

= Though I am a little annoyed because her lines here about looking for Lola for a long time made me think my theory that she was targeting her because she was related to Tyler/Shelby (or Poisandra just THOUGHT she was) was real. Unfortunately Lola's last name being Navarro isn't at all relevant (she targets Lola because she overhears that she writes PR fanfiction, so she wants Lola to make a weak team she can beat, it's a whole thing) so I guess in the end it was just an Easter Egg. I guess it's not too much of a surprise as this is set in "our" world rather than the Dino Charge world, but still, if you were going out of your way to pit a Dino Charge villain against a main character with the same last name as a Dino Charge character, you'd think that was leading up to something

= Group shot of the team! Along with the names, since I kind of skimmed my first reading and didn't retain them kjkdjf

= Also I just noticed Braylee's visor is shaped like a megaphone. That's cute

= Unfortunately the Poisandra Stan Society skipped out on PMC 2024. I totally would have gotten a picture with them otherwise

= Obviously as this is a one-shot book making gags out of the concept of "unlikely character archetypes as Power Rangers" the Infinity team members don't have the most complex personalities, but it's vital for you to know that the Pink Ranger, Penelope Prescott, is a lesbian. Anyway hot bear time

= I literally went into this book thinking the polar bear (Coach Kumo) would end up being a joke one-note "haha is that an ANIMAL as a ranger??" a la Yale but he actually ended up being my favorite character so uh. Yeah. Power Rangers Infinity did the whole "animal ranger" thing better than the main series. Make of that what you will

= And a look at the other teams. And okay, I'm just going to come out and say it; we did canonically have a pirate team in the show. I KNOW THEY DIDN'T DO PIRATE STUFF BUT I DON'T CARE, THEY STILL EXISTED, IT'S NOT AS OUTLANDISH AS THE HOCKEY BEAR UNIVERSE

= I do have to admit, for as much as this book tries to joke about how Poisandra isn't a threat and can't find a team weak enough for her to defeat, they're pretty casually talking about how she's basically committing mass genocide. Like their teams/universes are literally dead. I think that counts as beating them

= Proud of the book for not calling them "Paisley Force"

= your uber is here

= Anyway actual worst part of this book is it implies Poisandra took out Curio too which SHE WOULD NEVER DO!!!!!!! THAT IS HER BESTIE!!!!!!! Sledge getting her this ship is 100% in-character though

= Poisandra has committed mass murder and kidnapping but nothing compares to the evil of committing Lola to the path of customer service

= Still a better Green Ranger reveal than M/tt

= This silly one-shot parody comic sure has a lot of death in it

= speaking of death:

= MORE ONSCREEN DEATH THAN DARKEST HOUR IN THE ONE-SHOT GOOFY PARODY COMIC I'M GOING INSANE

= This is sweet and everything, but it kinda takes me back to how members of this fandom would uhhhh kinda harass the writers and BOOM about including their own ideas in the comic. (And the actors too. Firsthand witness to that at PMC 2024!) So to all up and coming writers and artists: please keep your submissions and pitches to professional settings

= see you, space cowboy...................

[xticklemeemox]

The Love You Want: III, Part Seven

hehe <3

word count: 10,413

Ao3

Masterlist

Previous Part

Next Part

The next morning, Vessel is fidgety, following behind II like a comically taller shadow, hand clutching his tightly like a lifeline as II feeds Elvira then goes to make breakfast. He barely meets III's eyes, and when he does, he looks away with a tiny flinch, never straying far from II's side. Elvira comes to linger at Vessel's side while he sits criss-cross on the floor near where her bowls are just outside the kitchen, and Vessel enjoys the feeling of her soft fur between his fingers as she purrs, tail wrapping around his wrist briefly before going back to flicking side to side happily.

Breakfast is a quiet affair as II and III eat and Vessel picks at the skin by his nails until they start bleeding. II forces him to stop, but Vessel only moves on to plucking at the bandages around his arms, beginning to slowly unravel them as he messes with the material. At the first sight of a scabbed over cut, III has had enough.

III frowns heavily, scooting their chair closer to Vessel and offering up a hand in invitation. Finally, Vessel pauses his ministrations, watching III intently, one pair of eyes on III, another on their unbandaged hand, and the last pair eyeing II nervously for guidance. There's guilt in all three pairs, fear and apprehension and III is desperate to know why.

It hurts to see Vessel like this. He's clearly pulling away to protect his heart from whatever damage he seems so sure is coming.

It scares III. Did they do something wrong? Is it something to do with what Vessel is going to tell him? What could it be that has Vessel so frightened of III's reaction?

Slowly, Vessel takes III's hand, and it is III who clasps their fingers together, making it so that Vessel cannot pick at either hand nor his scabs and bandages. Vessel traces over each end of III's fingernails with his available hand, moving to circling each joint in every finger and along every knuckle, before following a prominent vein up towards III's wrist.

III lets Vessel do as he pleases, genuinely unbothered as they continue to eat. II keeps glancing at Vessel in concern, Vessel's negative feelings never abating even as a bit of distraction clouds them.

All three of them remain seated at the table when they're finished, dishes set off to the unused end. It is silent, for a time, as Vessel only continues to play with III's fingers, not meeting anyone's eyes.

II finally breaks the silence softly, "Vessel, its okay. You need to tell them."

III looks away from II to watch Vessel again, watches as Vessel's shoulders hike up by his ears as he curls into himself to appear smaller. A bead of sweat slides down his temple, pupils shrunken.

Its harder to tell III than it was to tell II. Already, Vessel's throat is closing up again and he had been strangely proud of himself for trying so hard to get his voice back just for this conversation.

"I killed those who killed you." Vessel blurts, eyes wide with apprehension.

Vessel takes his hand away as the words leave his mouth. At the expression striking over III's pretty features as he processes what Vessel has said.

"You killed people?!" III exclaims, more in shock than anything, clenching his fists so tightly their nails dig into their palms painfully.

Vessel nods, not trusting himself to speak as he keeps one pair of eyes carefully attuned to every movement III's hands make. Secretly, he is terrified of what III's reaction might escalate to. The house shudders, vines beginning to crawl over themselves and along the floor, distressed.

III stands, and Vessel instinctively leans away, head bowed submissively. III turns to begin pacing by the table, and II watches as vacancy begins to settle into the red of Vessel's irises. He tries to share a warning look with III, but the other is too upset to notice.

"Shit, Vessel! Why would-" III starts, and he can feel his fingers start to itch, spreading slowly down his hands.

"Sleep... He told me you were in pain. That there was a way to rid you of it. If... If I killed them, you wouldn't experience anymore pain. They could never physically harm you ever again." Vessel's voice is quiet, so quiet, and his face is falling into a strange blankness that II knows he normally can't manage.

His concern only grows, but he isn't sure what to say to de-escalate the situation.

"You risked yourself for me! I would have lived with that pain in my body for the rest of eternity if it meant you didn't risk yourself!" III shouts, angry at the thought of what could've happened to Vessel and they wouldn't have known, wouldn't have been able to help until it was too late.

III was too fucking familiar with that sort of helplessness, that sort of hopelessness. He could picture it now, Vessel laying on some dingy alley floor as blow upon blow rains down on him, all alone because he didn't fucking tell them-

"What?" Vessel says, voice small and almost a squeak, numbness spreading through his body.

He's shaking, he knows. Can't stop the tremble in his frame. III's yelling reminds him of everyone Vessel has ever known, and it scares him. III's more outgoing personality is nothing compared to this.

"They fucking killed me and you go and take all three of them on by yourself! You didn't tell us where you went! You leave the car, you leave your phone. Your bond was so close to being completely inactive and radiating that fucking tranquility you put up when you're anything but calm it was like you'd turned the bond off anyway!" There are angry tears leaking down III's cheeks, only worsening when he sees how Vessel has shrunken in on himself, II trying desperately to take Vessel's hand from where it has an iron tight grip on one forearm, nails digging in so harshly more blood is welling up under the thin bandages.

"They could have fucking hurt you! Could've killed you too!" III shouts in frustration, running a hand through their hair.

"Three, honey-"

"It's alright, Two. Let him speak." Vessel says, gaze downcast and distant and II goes reluctantly silent.

Vessel tries to reassure III, "I have my powers from Sleep. I gave them no chance to harm me and I gave them exactly what they deserved."

III takes a deep breath to try and calm down enough to lower their volume, watching as their hands begin to lengthen, becoming spindly, the bones cracking then aching as they lengthen.

"Shit, shit, shit..." They mutter, trying to will them away even as his fingers morph into only three on each hand.

The soft little sound of III's socks, one tie dye rainbow and the other a neon green, is the only sound for a few minutes as III worries their lip between his teeth.

"If... If you'd have asked us, Vessel, I would have come with you." III states, stopping to turn and stare resolutely at Vessel who has frozen in his seat.

"You- Why?" Vessel asks, weak and shaky.

Vessel would never have asked it of them. He would never have risked them getting hurt. He was fully capable of that task alone, he... he didn't need to ask for help with it.

"So you did not go through something like that alone. So with my presence at your side, you could be reassured that I supported you in your decision, that I would not come to loathe you for it." III is quick to answer, and Vessel is struck by the realization that III knows Vessel better than he ever wanted.

"I would have went with you, too." II says, and Vessel is somehow just as surprised by this response. "I did say I was upset you wouldn't let me get a hit in. If faced with them, with the intention to kill, I may have hesitated. Maybe. But even now, with that bruising on your face, Three, I want to wring their fucking necks. The sight of your pretty face and how you cried would have flashed through my mind, as it is now, and I wouldn't have hesitated any longer."

III looks overwhelmed by this new knowledge. To know that not only did Vessel literally kill for them, but that II likely would have too, if given the chance. III wanted to be accepted, and Sleep has given him far more than that. He has given them people who cared enough about him to kill for him.

People often say they would kill for the ones they love. III had never put much stock in the saying. It seemed like pretty platitudes said more for charm than anything else. It lacked conviction, and III knows most meant the saying as an empty promise.

How fucked up does it make III in the head to be genuinely flattered by the thought that the two people he loves most in the world have, and would, literally kill for him?

Unable to find the proper words, III floods the bond with his love and his overwhelming appreciation. II sends down his own love, and it leaves a warm feeling bubbling in their chest. Vessel's bond, still so calm, is also radiating confusion. III wonders if Vessel recognizes what they sent down the bond, but realizes he probably doesn't.

III is going to tell Vessel he loves him today, no matter what. III can't handle waiting, can't handle another night passing by where Vessel hasn't at least heard from their mouths how completely and utterly they adore him.

"Won't people look for them?" III asks, continuing to pace back and forth, back and forth, wringing his hands together.

"Sleep said they'd erase them from memory and records." Vessel replies in a voice vacant of all emotion, keeping two sets of eyes on his lap, the last still trying to discreetly watch III's hands.

The calm projected over the bond is clearly forced, and both II and III hate how easy it is to tell right now that Vessel's tranquil bond is merely a facade.

"I still remember them." III starts, but then they pause in their pacing.

"The one that attacked me. I don't remember his face. Why do I suddenly not remember?" III's bond is a confusing mess of fury and frustration and heartache and so many things in between.

"His memory, you knowing of him, assaulting you again... it was beginning to unravel the magic Sleep cast over your memories of Before. It was causing you pain that would only worsen with time. I had to get rid of him, so your pain would cease and this would never happen again." Vessel explains wearily.

"Will the same thing happen to you both?" III asks, focusing on trying to get their hands back to normal as they sit down at the table once more, hiding the appendages under the table from II's view, to lessen the fear beginning to slink down his bond. "If we run into the people who killed you?"

Vessel's muscles tense up even as he nods, and he's glad for the calm he's been projecting over the bond. It hides the fear that stiffens his body, the flood of memories causing terror and the phantom pains and words he swears he can still hear from people Before.

Vessel would prefer to never see anyone from his past ever again.

"I don't think it will be a problem for me. I think the only reason you had such a problem, Three, is because you were so intimately familiar with the town we live near. With the people who killed you. You had the misfortune of already being near them." II says, a little unsure of his own words but feeling he may be right.

"We're no," Vessel's voice cracks on the emotions raging through him and he clears his throat, knowing his voice is leaving him again, its only a matter of time, "We're no longer near that town. Sleep moved this realm somewhere else in the country. For Three's sake."

"The realm was moved? Sleep has the power to do that?" II asks, and Vessel nods.

"Yes, apparently so."

"What about the bodies?" III questions, II listening attentively, not knowing the answer either.

"Sleep got rid of them." Vessel responds, lips thinning, pinched shut. "I offered them up as sacrifices. It is how He gained the power to move the realm."

III and II nod, accepting the answer. They do not ask more about it, and Vessel is glad. How was he to tell them their God's dripping maw opened up on his chest, the cavity filled with teeth and tar where his heart used to lay. How their God consumed the bodies, how a stray hand had somehow gone inside of Vessel, into the void his Gods jaw created?

"Do you regret it?" III asks, catching Vessel's gaze when he glances back up at them.

"... I did it to protect and avenge you." Vessel starts, fiddling with his fingers again, picking at the skin around his nails with sharp claws, unable to force his gaze away from III's intensity, "No. I- I do not regret it."

Vessel expects this to be it. For III to decide they want nothing to do with Vessel. Expects III to ask for him to be cast out, or to leave in his stead. Maybe this is when III will show Vessel that they are like everyone else Vessel knew Before. Vessel wonders which will hurt worse, his body afterwards, or his heart shattering with every hit.

He hopes II will let III get out the frustration he needs to. His second partner was always nicer afterwards, she'd even hold him sometimes after he inevitability started crying and just couldn't stop, long after the hits ceased. Vessel could never tell if it was from the pain or his heart crumbling to pieces in his chest.

Distantly, somewhere deep inside, far, far below his fear, Vessel doesn't truly think III would hurt him. It feels wrong to think they will, but... but Vessel can't help it.

As he told Sleep, anyone who has ever loved him has hurt him, and Sleep said the other vessels love him.

Vessel is quick to force distance between them, expecting the worst, knowing that III won't want Vessel anywhere near them soon. The chair makes an awful screeching noise as he shoves it over towards II, who rests a hand on his thigh in support.

"I'm sorry for yelling. I was upset. I- I still am. You could've gotten hurt, and... Taking a life is no small matter and you've done it three times in a day. For me, no less." III starts, taking in a deep, calming breath, staring down at their hands that have yet to go back to normal.

Vessel is confused by the apology. Why would III apologize for yelling? Vessel... he expected it. Prepared himself for it, even, though it did not frighten him any less.

III continues, "They were not good people. I complimented one of them and they killed me for it. I do not want to think of what they must have done in the past, what they could've done in the future to anyone who made the same mistake. They didn't hesitate to beat me to death. They laughed, joked over my dying body."

Vessel grimaces, the laughter and the jokes and the manic little grins they'd all had flashing behind his eyes, echoing in his ears. Glancing up at III at the fear slipping down the bond, Vessel realizes that III is experiencing it too, and by the way they wince, remembering the pain as well.

The guilt inside Vessel only grows. He was so close, and yet he could not help. Could not even hold III to him to comfort and protect, lack of heart in his chest be damned.

"People like that... They don't deserve my sympathy." III settles on, "So, while I'm upset, it's not with you. It's- In general. The entire situation is just... upsetting."

"I regret the loss of life." Vessel murmurs, clearing his throat when he realizes it was too quiet, repeating himself. "But ultimately I do not regret that it was their lives I took. Not for what they did to you. One said that there had been others before you."

"... I wasn't the only one?" III murmurs, upset at the thought, missing the alarmed look II sends Vessel, who nods slowly in sorrow.

III thinks of what was done to them. The pain, the terror, at the hands of those who murdered him. To find out that they were not the only ones who had suffered at those cruel hands... The motherfuckers deserved the end they got. They reaped what they'd sown.

Vessel doesn't know what to think when III stands, walking towards where Vessel had moved away. They lean down, one hand resting on the back of the chair just by Vessel's shoulder, placing a gentle kiss on his forehead. The aborted motion of pulling away from an expected hit pulls Vessel away from III, who notices his wide eyes.

"Sorry, should have warned you." III apologizes when they see Vessel's reaction.

There's a tremble to Vessel's frame that wasn't noticeable a moment ago, and III does not miss the way one pair of Vessel's eyes is constantly tracking their hands. It fills III with such profound sadness to think of what Vessel must have been through, a small sting of hurt at Vessel thinking they would hurt him. Anger that there was a reason Vessel was afraid of something like that at all.

II and III share a concerned glance, moving back to Vessel who has remained still despite the tremble to his form. His arms have come to wrap around himself in an attempt at a hug, body tense in preparation for a blow. II and III have had talks when Vessel isn't around, quiet whispers as they go over more and more signs of some sort of abuse. It's slow going, Vessel avoiding any subtle questions and hiding as many of his reactions as possible. Its tragic, when all they want is to be able to help him.

"Not your fault." Vessel mutters, one hand coming up to lightly touch where III's lips had been.

"Vessel, I need you to hear me say this. I need you to really listen." III begs, and Vessel barely manages to pull his gaze up from the ground, barely manages to let his hand fall to hold the other in front of him.

"I'm not going to hit you." III states firmly, hands deliberately loosely open at his sides, as they finally go back to normal.

Vessel startles, eyes going somehow wider in his shock, and his mouth opens as if to say something, anything to steer the conversation from wherever its heading.

"I don't give a fuck how angry I get, I will never hit you. I will never harm a single hair on your head."

"But... What if I do something wrong? Make a mistake? Upset you?" III's heart crumbles to pieces at the genuine confusion, at the way Vessel doesn't understand.

"Vessel, we're not going to agree on everything all the time. Its just not natural, nor healthy. Its good to disagree. And mistakes are common, everyone makes them. If you upset me, then we'll talk it out, figure out what we can do to make either one of us no longer upset. You do not deserve to be hit for any of that."

Vessel knows III doesn't get it. Neither one of them seem to understand that Vessel deserved to be hurt. He always spoke out of turn, could never be quiet when told. Was always too clingy, never enough. He couldn't do anything right. He deserves every bit of pain he received. Vessel couldn't fathom a world where that wasn't the truth.

"Okay." Vessel agrees unsurely, accepting even when he knows in his heart that III is wrong, one hand falling to hold II's tightly.

II and III know he doesn't understand, can see it on his face even as it leaks down the bond Vessel has left open. It no longer projects such disturbing calm, and it strikes III that he isn't really sure how Vessel does it.

"How do you project such calm over the bond, anyway? I don't understand it." III asks, curious even as he watches Vessel with sad eyes.

"Oh, I- Well, it's not the actual emotion. I just, its kind of like projecting an image. I send over a calm sea and it comes across as calm on your end. It's similar to how we can sort of push certain images or thoughts to get something close to a conversation."

"I see... Can you not," III lets out a small sigh, "Can you not do it anymore?"

"Not...? You don't want me to...?"

"No, sweetheart, we want to know how you're feeling, even if it's negative." II interjects, squeezing Vessel's hand gently as III pulls his chair closer to Vessel and II's.

"We want to know when you're upset so we can help. You wouldn't want one of us hiding from you if we were upset, would you?" III says, and Vessel shakes his head slowly.

"Well, no, but its different with you two." Vessel insists, begging them with his eyes to understand.

Vessel isn't worth it. Why don't they see that?

"Why is it different with us Vessel? What makes our feelings matter more than yours?" II asks, desperately, placing his other hand over Vessel's to sandwich the appendage between his.

Vessel needs to leave. He needs to escape, anything to get away from this conversation. He hates how much he's said already, hates how sad he has made the other two just by existing near them. Vessel hates that he can't seem to make them happy.

Vessel shakes his head, still trembling, pushing the chair back and going to stand. III puts their still morphed hand on Vessel's other thigh, and he stills, watching II and III warily. All six eyes are wide with panic, and he feels trapped. The plates start to float gently above the table, as II glances down at III's hand and flicks it back up to watch Vessel, resolutely not looking back down.

How is Vessel to explain to them that they mean the world to him? That he would lay the heavens to waste at their feet if only they'd ask? It was such a silly question. Of course their feelings meant more to him than his own. Their happiness was his, and he would not taint it with his own lack of self-worth and depression.

How is he to tell them that he was so desperate to be loved, he accepted an eternity with a God he barely knew who said he would grant him that wish. How is he to tell them that he hated himself so completely and utterly, couldn't imagine living another day, another second in this body and with this mind, that he tried and tried again to kill himself until he finally succeeded and only then was he wanted.

III takes Vessel's hand, stopping him from digging any deeper into his palms. Vessel looks up slowly as tears blur his vision. II's hand still rests gently on his thigh, tracing a pattern into the fabric. As II's warmth seeps through to Vessel's skin, he wonders if II can feel the never-ending tremble of Vessel's frame.

"Vessel, I love you." III states, and Vessel's whole world collapses as all six eyes focus completely on the pretty creature before him.

"I've never been in love, not really. Not when my love for you both feels like this. All consuming and complex and a little like my feet have been swept out from under me." III confesses when Vessel continues to not say anything.

Vessel's throat is tight and a sob steals his breath when II speaks from his other side, "I love you too, Vessel. I know you didn't believe me, when I told you. I need you to believe me now. I want to wake up beside you for as long as you'll let me. I want to kiss you, over and over and over again. I want to love you like you deserve, Vessel. I want to show you that your previous partners were all fools without a single loving bone in their bodies."

"We want to love you. Will you... Will you let us?" III tries not to beg, but the desperation taints his tone anyway.

"You can't. I don't deserve it. I don't deserve your love or your kindness, or how gentle you always are with me."

"Vessel, you deserve gentleness. You deserve love." II says softly, big, pretty blue eyes staring at Vessel with such blatant affection not even he can deny it.

"I ignored you on purpose!" Vessel blurts out, as though trying to convince them he doesn't deserve what they're offering, "I- I lied to you, Two. After you said you- after- when you said you loved me... that was really when I couldn't speak, I couldn't say anything even if I wanted to and it hurt when you were so kind to me even then. Why would you- why be kind to me?"

"Because you deserve to have kindness Vessel." II states softly, kneeling in front of him.

The knowledge that Vessel had ignored him at first, after II first confessed, hurts immensely, but if this is how Vessel is reacting now... How many people told Vessel they loved him with nothing but blackened hearts and filthy souls? How many people told Vessel they loved him, only to turn around and hurt him, body and mind?

"I don't feel like I do." He whispers, brokenly, and III hesitantly takes his available hand.

"We'll just have to keep being kind to you then, to show you that you deserve it. I've met many people whose faces I can't remember who don't deserve anything good, and you're not one of them." III states, firm as they wipe their own tears with the back of their hand.

"I don't know what its like to be loved with kindness. You've... Neither of you have ever hurt me. Why- Why haven't you hurt me? I deserve it! I've lied! I've hidden things from you! Even now, I-" Vessel barely stops himself from blurting out more of his secrets.

"Why would you want to love someone who doesn't love themselves? I don't deserve to be loved, not the way you two say you love me. I'm not worthy of it. I'll never be worthy of it. You can't love me, even if I want you to. You can't, please, I don't- I'm not worth it. I'm not worth it." Vessel sobs, golden tears staining his clothes as they drip relentlessly off his jaw, "I am ugly, I am flawed. I- I'm weak, I hurt myself. I am afraid."

Vessel continues trying to convince them that he is not worth their love, but that is not for him to decide. II finally has enough, crying too, and trying so desperately not to sob like Vessel is. The bonds are a mess of anguish, of Vessel's fright and such bone-deep self-loathing.

"Darling, I'm noticing your flaws and they're exactly what I want, even if you won't believe me. I love you, every part of you. Even the parts you consider ugly." II begs Vessel to believe him, to please, please just this once, believe him.

Vessel thinks back to what Sleep had said to him. Had urged him to do. To try and look beyond his past that chains him down, to see that they love him. Vessel still doesn't believe they do, but... if they're willing to at least pretend... Vessel is too selfish to deny them, deny II again, even if he knows it's only a matter of time before they realize how inadequate and ugly he truly is.

"You know I'll be yours, just want to be worth it." Vessel murmurs, finally, still sobbing quietly as he continues, "I've loved you both ever since I met you. You enraptured me, heart and soul. Paralyzed by my own will, I- I couldn't tell you. I knew neither of you returned my feelings. I knew... I knew you could never love me."

"You thought we would leave you, Sugar?" III asks gently, "Thought we would hurt you. You've just been trying to protect yourself from what you thought was inevitable. How many people have tore you down so thoroughly that you couldn't see how much we adore you?"

"Adore...?" Vessel murmurs, before what III had said before that sets in, "I- Every partner I've ever had. My parents. My peers. Everyone I have ever known. So many people hated me... There must've been reason to."

"There wasn't!" III snarls as II forces back a sob, "Not a single one of them were right in their treatment of you. You deserve the world and I will tell you that every day until you believe me!"

A fresh wave of tears spill over as Vessel's breaths come out in shorter and shorter pants. II smiles at him, and Vessel wishes it was clearer past the blur of his golden tears, because he can tell its a soft, watery thing as II cries, too.

Vessel wants to believe them, but he can't. If what III says is true, then why did Vessel have to suffer? Why him? He had to've done something wrong. Vessel couldn't fathom a reality where his entire existence up until that point, all that pain and suffering, wasn't a deserved punishment for something he had done.

II and III whisper gentle encouragements for Vessel to get his breathing under control, and its difficult. Difficult to think past his racing mind. Difficult to breathe past the gut wrenching sobs he manages to keep quiet even now. Vessel does eventually manage it, wiping his gold stained face of tears and snot, as silence passes between them for a moment. His bond loses the carefully curated calm, slipping away to reveal such aching self-loathing and a small bit of hope that flickers like a weak flame. II and III want to help, want to stifle that self-loathing and strengthen that flame of hope but how? How are they to help Vessel when he... Shit, when he doesn't even want to help himself?

II taps his fingers nervously to an unheard beat, seeming to think over something as the silence stretches on.

"Can I kiss you?" II asks, glancing from Vessel's eyes to his lips and back again. "I've been thinking about it for so long now."

Vessel smiles, and he tilts his head, a little shy, a little confused, even as he wants it, so desperately he feels he might burst at the seams with his need to know what II's lips on his feels like. "You're asking?"

"Of course I'm asking. If you don't want a kiss, then I won't kiss you." II affirms gently, struggling to keep the frown off his face, the sadness from the bond.

"You're asking- and I can say no?" The shyness is still there, but there is so much confusion stemming from Vessel's side of the bond that II wants to snap the neck of whoever did this to Vessel.

"You can always, always, say no. With me, or with II." III states firmly, needing to hold tighter to Vessel's hands in his own to stop the other man from picking at his self-harm scabs.

"My- my old partners didn't really- their rules were different."

"You had rules to follow? Like, in the bedroom?" III asks, desperate for clarification.

He begs Sleep for it really to be some sort of kinky BDSM situation but knows that with Vessel and his past, the chances are slim.

"No?" Vessel's voice has gotten smaller as he hunches into himself, that previous bit of shyness gone now, replaced with apprehension as the confusion remains. "I- I wasn't allowed to say no, with my third partner. She got me away from my second so I always just- did as she asked. Even if I didn't really want to. It was okay though because I loved her. She was nicer than my second and first. My other partners didn't ask either, were they supposed to?"

III immediately starts crying again as he nods furiously, unable to hold back the fat crystalline tears spilling down his cheeks as a large wave of misery floods the bond. Vessel panics, immediately pulling the slightly taller man into a side hug, "I-I'm sorry b- Three, I didn't mean to make you cry."

III shakes his head in refusal of the apology, taking II by the arm and shoving him a little closer.

"Can I have a kiss after Two?"

Vessel tilts his head hesitantly, turning it towards II as he asks, shyly but almost as though he doesn't think he should ask at all, "Does Two still want to kiss me?"

Nodding his head so fast III fears II'll break his neck, II leans forward, nose nearly touching Vessel's. He pauses, just before their lips would touch. He glances down at them, at the red, bitten and bleeding skin, and back up to Vessel's eyes, all six a little wide, a little excited. They're red as rubies, and filled with such anticipation II almost doesn't want to make him wait any longer.

"Are you sure?" II murmurs, and Vessel feels II's lips brush feather light against his own.

"Please." Vessel practically begs despite his better judgment, and II surges forward.

When II's lips meet Vessel's, he is swarmed by overwhelming affection. He cannot stop the grin that splits his face, that makes it difficult to continue kissing II even if that is all Vessel wants to do.

Gently, II's tongue brushes against Vessel's bottom lip, and Vessel eagerly opens it in invitation. II tastes like the tea he had for breakfast, floral and a little sweet, and the maple syrup of the pancakes Vessel watched him cook.

Vessel would never deny himself this, so long as II was willing. After getting this taste, Vessel doesn't think he would ever refuse II a kiss.

Hesitantly, Vessel opens his mouth a little wider, letting II's tongue explore his mouth with fascination. They're both careful of their respective fangs, even though Vessel purposefully nicks his tongue on one of II's little fangs, enjoying the sting.

Vessel has not let himself imagine anything truly romantic with II or III, but now that he has gotten the blessing of kissing one of them, he finds he wants more. So much more. He wants to sink his teeth into II and III and mark them as his. Vessel would love for them to do the same, to sink their own teeth into his skin and mark him as theirs. He hasn't felt this sort of possessiveness since his first partner, and the thought scares him, almost causes him to pull away from II prematurely.

II, feeling the small spike of fear down the bond, probes gently along the tether in question and Vessel shoves back reassurance when he feels II beginning to pull away. It causes II to relax further into the kiss, leaning into Vessel's space even more as he puts his weight on Vessel's thigh where their hands are clasped tightly.

"Can I have my kiss now? As hot as this is, it's my turn." III pouts lightheartedly, eyeing the both of them with arousal he has no intention to act upon.

Not yet, anyway. They'll need to figure things out with Vessel first, see where he stands on the sexual side of the relationship III is pretty sure they're all in now. The thought fills him with elation, and their leg begins to bounce as the anticipation rises.

II and Vessel are slow to pull away from each other, one of II's hand very lightly grazing Vessel's nape. Vessel's face feels flushed with heat, a little breathless as he pants with a grin so wide it hurts. II is much the same, and Vessel wonders what the other would look like with that same expression while on top of him. Longs to see such a sight with such deep desire Vessel is surprised at himself.

II pulls entirely away from Vessel as the taller man stares after him, leaning back in his chair with a satisfied smile, contentment and love pouring down the bond. III pulls his chair closer with a harsh sound against the flooring, grabbing Vessel's shoulders gently and pulling him to meet them. His kiss is quicker to head into full on making out, tongue swiping across Vessel's bottom lip immediately.

III tastes like too-sweet vanilla coffee, over eager as their teeth clack against Vessel's. Vessel continues grinning anyway, absolutely elated just as he was when he kissed II. III's presence and tongue consume every thought in Vessel's head, the chair creaking as III puts more weight into the back of it to lessen the space between them.

"If you're not careful, the chair will break from under him." II comments in amusement as the chair creaks harshly again.

"We'll just buy a new one." III says between kisses, staring at Vessel even as the other has his eyes closed.

III is obsessed with the way Vessel tastes, a little bit of iron like blood, a little like his coffee half finished on the table, vanilla and hazelnut from the copious amounts of creamer he put in. III just might have to try out their coffee that way sometime, just to see if it could compare to the taste of Vessel.

As much as Vessel would love nothing more than to kiss II and III, to watch them kiss each other, all day, for as long as they'll let him, there is a need building in the back of his mind.

It had been building under his skin ever since the first murder; the need to kill himself to grant his mind rest. His body did not rest, could not rest even in Sleep's realm, and his mind is suffering under the minor headache and the tremble that will not leave his frame. He intended to come home, to kill himself last night before either one of the others knew he had returned. He was going to rest in the only way he knew how, and then tell II and III what he had done in the morning. That plan had not come to pass.

It is better for Vessel to ask, to let them know he intends to turn the bond off, than to do it all of a sudden. At least, that's what Vessel tells himself. He needs to rest.

So Vessel pulls away first, disappointment mirrored on III's face. It only grows when Vessel speaks, "I'm going to go worship, to- to thank Sleep for bringing us together. For giving me the opportunity to take your pain away. I- Can- Can I turn my bond off, just until I'm done? I promise I'll turn it back on after. I'm sorry."

Guilty eyes plead with II and III who remain close, sat stiffly in their dining table chairs. Anxiety chases away any lingering peace from the moment they'd just had.

III bitterly turns away, not responding, but II nods slowly in acceptance. Vessel is near tears with his thankfulness, flooding the bond with it and his guilt and his apologies.

As Vessel escapes upstairs, what II says to his back as he goes almost causes Vessel to turn right back around, to keep the bond open and not worship today at all. "I love you, Vessel."

Vessel does pause, though, halfway up the staircase on the little landing before it continues up at a different angle, "I love you as well, Two. And you, Three."

With a bit of hesitation, Vessel sends a small amount of his large expanse of love down the bond. He does not wish to overwhelm them with it. It is met with care, gently cradled in the souls of the other vessels. They send back their own love, and its hard for Vessel to deny they do love him to some extent, now that he knows that is what it feels like. Its hard, but not impossible. Vessel knows it is only a matter of time before this infatuation fades, before they realize they love each other more than they love him. Vessel can see it clear as day. They love each other like he loves them. He thinks he can be happy if they find happiness together, even if that happiness does not include him. Already, they've given him so much more than he could ever have asked for. They've been so kind, more considerate than he deserves. Vessel loves them.

The altar room is cold, the candles unlit as he locks the door behind him. The sigil on the wall gleams in the darkness, his vision capturing the shine clearly. Under a loose floorboard by one of the walls, a knife sits. Vessel retrieves it, removing his hoodie and unstrapping his mask from his belt. Folding the hoodie and placing the mask on top with care, Vessel leaves it at his side. Unwrapping the bandages II did for him yesterday, Vessel hesitates to bring the knife to his wrist.

'My Vessel, returning so soon?' Black and red swirls in the offering plate as Vessel finally brings the blade to his skin, dragging it up the vein on his arm to speed along his death.

'Yes, my God.' Vessel replies as he watches the blood spill heavily from the wound.

Vessel does not think he has any right to ask for this, and yet he wonders if his God will grant the request.

'Speak, my First. Ask, and I will answer.'

'No, it is alright, my God. I will ask another time.' Vessel refutes, worrying his lower lip between a fang.

Another time. He will only ask if there is no other option. This is the last time Vessel intends to kill himself for the foreseeable future, so he knows it is only a matter of time before he buckles under the pressure.

Vessel offers up all of his blood to Sleep again, loving the sting and the numb cold spreading throughout his body. He dies with a rueful smile on his face, and Sleep takes care to fix his wounds while he lingers in a state of not-death. He wants them to truly love him so badly. He wants to let himself love them fully, without holding himself back, but Vessel fears his love is too much. He fears driving them away. Before death takes his mind, he is reliving every moment of II and III's lips on his, fanning that flame of hope in his soul despite his best efforts.

::

As Vessel's soul is cut off from theirs, as the void in their chests open with that sudden emptiness, II and III reach for each other. III's bond is still laced with bitter sadness, a twinge of fear that echoes II's own. It is not an easy thing, to feel that Vessel is dead when they know differently.

"I think we overwhelmed him. Did you see his face when he left?" III frowns, and II nods, brow furrowed.

II is the first to reach out, hands coming to rest tenderly on either side of III's face as he leans forward to plant a kiss on his lips, careful of the bruising already beginning to heal. Then another, and another, until the last one is deepened by III. They spend a few minutes like that, trading gentle kisses that range from chaste to deeper ones full of tongue and careful nips. It is II that pulls away first, wrapping III in a tight hug.

"Thank you." II breathes out, cheek pressed to III's chest.

"For what?" They ask, beginning to card a hand through II's hair as the other rests on II's hip.

"You've helped him. Helped me. More than you know. We needed you, and I'm so, so glad Sleep chose you. I love him so dearly. I was always someone who spoke their mind about these sorts of things, but no one else has made me feel the way he does. The way you do. The thought of messing up what we had scared me so badly. You helped us work past it. He's going to let us love him."

::

When Vessel wakes as if from a restless sleep, head resting in the empty offering plate, he feels... guilty. II and III's bonds are immediately open to him, though Vessel keeps his shut away for now. Just until he gathers his wits and leaves the altar room.

They had asked him not to shut his bond off. He had promised, and yet was too weak to keep that promise. They did not even get angry with him. They did not hit him or yell, but Vessel thinks their clear disappointment hurt far worse than anything else they could've done. Vessel has to keep it this time. He has gotten a taste of what their love could feel like, a taste of them, lingering on his tongue.

Vessel resolves to not kill himself anymore, just as he had promised. It is one he intends to keep, for as long as his resolve remains. If it means he bleeds more, then so be it. Vessel will simply have to be careful not to go too far. He has killed himself plenty now, he knows his limits.

Vessel stumbles out of the altar room, nursing a worse migraine than before as he goes searching for II and III. His bond opens, the tether snapping into place with the other souls linked to it, and Vessel feels whole again. He follows the tether and the gentle tugging from III's bond, finding II and III in II's room, laid out on his bed trading soft little kisses with the door open in invitation. Vessel is envious of their tender expressions, but it doesn't last long as III turns to look at Vessel, that same expression still gracing their features.

It doesn't falter or fall, only remains as it was when III was looking at II. "Sugar! Come lay with us awhile. Two and I were thinking of going downstairs to play some more NieR in a little while, if you want."

II's face is flushed as he looks up at III from below them, a little dazed looking, but his dopey smile is easily turned towards Vessel when III makes him aware that Vessel is there.

Their smiles widen when Vessel begins to make his way towards the bed, hovering at the edge of it unsurely. II sits up as III moves off of him, releasing the smaller man from the cage their arms had made.

II offers his hand to Vessel, who takes it and lets II pull him gently onto the bed. As he does so, III speaks, "I gave Two plenty of kisses after I managed to get him under me, can I give you some now?"

At Vessel's eager nod, III reaches forward and pulls Vessel close by the nape of his neck, careful not to let their fingers wrap around Vessel's throat. Another hand is slowly put on Vessel's shoulder, and Vessel lets III maneuver him to lay on the bed, watching in rapt attention as III straddles him. His skin feels alight with anticipation, a frown soon marring his features as III asks if he can cage Vessel in with their arms, like they did II. Unable to get any words out, Vessel grabs his phone in frustration. He knew this was coming, and he hates that he cannot speak to the only people he wants to hear his voice.

'Do not touch my neck, chest, or wrists. Anything else is fine.' Vessel types on his phone, wanting III to hurry up and kiss him.

Despite what Vessel said, as III leans over him, tall frame blocking out Vessel's view of the ceiling and his pretty blonde hair like a halo, he begins to feel nervousness creep under his skin. It fades somewhat as III leans down to kiss him, soft lips pressing against Vessel's, bitten and chapped. II's hand takes a hold of one of Vessel's at their sides, leaned up against his headboard as he watches his new lovers kiss tenderly. Just this morning, II was sure Vessel would reject them, was sure it was going to be far more difficult to convince Vessel that they loved him. Even now, II isn't sure Vessel believes them, knows it is likely going to be a long journey until he understands how they worship him.

II leans over so the angle doesn't strain Vessel's arm, pressing gentle kisses to his fingertips, hand clasped in his own with care. Affection swells up in Vessel's chest, so much he feels as though he will burst at the seams with it. He has never been kissed so reverently before, never with such gentle care. Unwillingly, his fingers tighten over II's hand, trying to pull him a little closer even as his breath is consistently stolen by III's lips.

III is relentless as he presses kiss after kiss to Vessel's lips, holding the kiss a little longer each time. At some point, Vessel's eyes slip closed, letting III do as he pleases as his nervousness slips away. There is a gentle press of lips to his forehead, over each closed eyelid, over both cheekbones and the tip of his nose. II holds Vessel's hand close to his face, pressing the back of Vessel's hand to his cheek, taking in his muscles losing their tension and the relaxed expression on his face with awe. II isn't sure he's ever seen Vessel completely relaxed, so unguarded like this. Its the closest II thinks they'll ever get to seeing what Vessel would look like at rest.

His messy hair is splayed out around him, pulled back into a half up, half down style that Vessel had asked II to do earlier that morning. It leaves his pointed ears on display, the stud piercings that sit in his lobes.

III pauses before they go in for another kiss on Vessel's mouth, intending to deepen it, "You're beautiful, Sugar."

Vessel's eyes blink open, and he smiles, a tiny, sad thing that speaks volumes of just what Vessel thinks of that statement. His free hand comes to rest over his chest, shaking his head, before he reaches up and gently places all five fingers, then his palm against III's chest, nodding his head. What Vessel is trying to say is clear. He doesn't think he's pretty at all, thinks III is the pretty one. II wishes he could show Vessel how he sees him, how utterly captivating he is.

One day, they'll manage to convince him of his beauty, no matter what. For now, they'll smother him in their love until he believes them in their surety of its existence.

"I love you Vessel." III murmurs against Vessel's lips, watching him closely in fascination.

Vessel smiles, pressing his lips back to III's in answer, trying to put his love into the kiss since his words have failed him. One long arm reaches put and pulls II to III's side as the other man fumbles to stay upright, a hand coming to III's shoulder. They're careful not to put too much weight on Vessel who still lays below them, six eyes half-lidded and face flushed.

"Just because I'm shorter doesn't mean you get to boss me around in bed, sweetheart." II says, using his superior strength to shove III over.

He lets out an oomph as they land beside Vessel, laughing along with II who follows them, placing short kisses on III's mouth. Now that they've all had a taste, they can't seem to get enough of kissing one another. Not that any of them are complaining; far, far from it, actually.

"It is a crime I can't kiss the both of you at once." II frowns, hovering on his knees between the other two's prone bodies.

"It's a good thing I like to watch, then. Watch you both kiss, that is. Among other things." III smirks slyly, batting his pretty eyelashes up at II.

Vessel's hands have come to rest on his stomach, a surprised, quiet snort of a laugh leaving him.

"While I can't say I'm surprised, those other things can wait until we've had a proper conversation about sex, sweetheart."

"We could have the conversation right no-"

"I'd prefer to wait a bit." II glances down at Vessel with a tender look, "After we figure out what we all are to each other, and how we're going to navigate whatever this is. I'd like us to settle into the relationship first." II waves between all three of them.

"Oh, thank Sleep you brought it up, I was losing my mind wondering. Are we all dating?" III asks, sitting up on an elbow, brushing a strand of hair behind their ear.

"I would like us to be."

Vessel sits up enough to grab his phone again from where it had fallen somewhere beside him, and the others wait patiently for him to type out what he wants to say. 'Allthreeof us?'

"Yes, Ves. Have you never heard of polyamory?" II says, a brow raising in question, not intending to come across as demeaning but feeling a little like he did anyway.

'I have.' Vessel starts, typing something out and then backspacing as his bond shrinks away like he is trying to minimize its presence, as he clearly tries to hide without projecting calm when that isn't what he is feeling.

III is glad Vessel is trying, at least. Glad that Vessel listened to him, even if it seems they couldn't quite get through to him about closing the bond off entirely.

Vessel does not turn the phone around, only let's his hands fall to rest in his lap as he scoots back against the headboard, a claw very gently tapping against the back casing in anxiety. II and III share a confused glance before III speaks, "Well, I would prefer the term partner, but boyfriend is fine, too."

Vessel is confused. None of his past relationships started off this way. There was no clarification for sex or terms or if they were even dating. If Vessel was kissed, and did not refuse another, then his past partners always just assumed they were dating. There was no asking if Vessel wanted it, too. It wasn't like Vessel minded, at the time. He was in love with his past partners, happy to go along with whatever they wanted as long as they'd stay with him.

He is confused, though when is he not, when it comes to the other vessels. II refused III's offer to talk over the sexual aspect of their relationship, saving it for a later time. Vessel didn't realize that was an option. He was prepared to go along with anything the other two wanted, happy to receive anything they would give him. He didn't realize that they were going to talk over the sexual aspect of the relationship at all. It fills him with anxiety, as he knows he'll need to keep his mouth shut and keep the things he likes to himself so they'll be pleased with him.

"Ves? Are you okay?" II asks, when he notices Vessel has stopped contributing to the conversation, has seemed to stop listening entirely.

Vessel cannot stop the looping words in his mind, even as he smiles at II shakily, nodding.

'Of course a little freak like you would be into that. Keep your mutilation bullshit to yourself. Do it again, and the next hit will be worse.'

Vessel learned to keep his thoughts of sex to himself, learned to let them do whatever they wished. Sex was not something Vessel had much care for, after his first partner. The time after him, with his second and third, was not much different. Vessel expects sex with II and III to be no different, despite their clear differences to his past partners.

'Boyfriend or partner is fine with me.' Vessel types, hands shaking as he holds the phone up for them to see.

"Okay, those're fine with me as well." II says, taking note of Vessel's tremble, grabbing his free hand to rub soothingly over his knuckles.

"Can I kiss you, Doll?" III blurts, already leaning forward from where he had sat up next to Vessel.

II smiles, leaning forward to meet III's lips happily. "You don't need to ask me, honey, I'm always available for your kisses. Unless I'm behind my drum set."

"I'm setting a good example for Vessel's sake." III pouts, and II kisses it off of them with a smile.

Eager as he is to watch them kiss, to watch as II's blush spreads over his exposed shoulders due to his tank top, Vessel wishes to do something else.

He taps III's thigh, holding his phone out for them to look at when they manage to pull away from II. His smile is bright, and it only widens when they read what Vessel has written.

"Doll, Vessel wants to head downstairs to play more NieR. I can't refuse him, look at how pretty our boyfriend is, asking so nicely." III urges with a cheeky smirk, and II turns to look at Vessel with a smile of his own.

"He is a very, very pretty boyfriend, isn't he?" II smirks as well, eyes raking down Vessel's form.

Vessel flushes with heat at their words, red spreading from his cheeks to his ears. He scrambles to get up from the bed so he doesn't have to respond, bond filled with shy embarrassment as II and III giggle good naturedly from behind him.

Vessel... is glad to realize that they are not laughing at him, not in a cruel way. His embarrassment does not stem from shame, only bashfulness at their words and he knows that. Not long ago, it feels like, Vessel would have felt as though they were laughing at him out of cruelty.

II and III meet Vessel down in the living room, finding him already swathed under a large blanket that he opens up in offering as II sits beside him. III turns pretty, begging blue eyes on Vessel when he sees that he can't sit between both Vessel and II, and Vessel can't help his amusement as he scoots over, away from II, so that there is space between them.

II gets up quickly and speeds off to the kitchen, returning with cold drinks. III snatches up the Mountain Dew with haste, cracking open the top and taking a sip as the PlayStation starts up.

"Would you like to play this time?" III asks, controller held up in offering.

Hesitantly, before Vessel can overthink it too much, he nods. He dies, repeatedly, and constantly clicks the button for a different action than he wanted, but as he learns the controls, Vessel finds more and more enjoyment in the game. His six eyes can track different things all at once, allowing him to notice enemies before they hit him, though it doesn't make his fingers any better at clicking the correct buttons. Taking in the sights of the game is easier, too, able to keep an eye on his character, the scenery, and any enemies.

'Can I turn the sound effects down a little bit, so I can hear the music better?' Vessel asks after just dying for the umpteenth time to a difficult boss.

"Of course, and can you turn subtitles on? I keep forgetting to." Vessel is already nodding in agreement, bottom set of eyes looking down at the controller to make sure he pushes the right button.

They sit like that until well past midnight, II's head in III's lap as he snores under an extra blanket, one hand clutching III's thigh. III leans heavily on Vessel, too, more and more as the night wears on. Changing positions as his back protests, Vessel leans back into the cushions from where he had been sat forward with his elbows on his knees. III follows, leaning their head on Vessel's shoulder, blinking slowly yet fighting valiantly to stay awake.

Vessel pauses the game after III's head slips off his shoulder for the umpteenth time, III jerking awake and righting their head only to repeat again a few seconds later.

"Oh, you've started ending B." III murmurs, already beginning to nod off again.

A very gentle jostling at his shoulder causes III to look up, finding Vessel's dim phone screen awaiting them.

'Go on to bed.'

"No, I'm okay. I'll just stay here with you and Two. You should start a new game, so you can play all on your own without worrying about us. Then we can take turns on this save file." III replies, shuffling around on the couch to get more comfortable.

'You'll be sore in the morning when you wake.' Vessel argues, but III only blinks blearily at the phone screen before shaking their head in refusal.

They shift II carefully to be more in their lap as they lean towards Vessel again, and Vessel does not move away, only let's III use him as a pillow while they settle down to actually get some rest.

"Goodnight Sugar, I love you."

Vessel brushes a gentle hand over III's hair in answer, unable to speak still but needing to respond to III somehow.

What is Vessel to do with those two?

After making sure II and III remain asleep and unaware, Vessel snaps a photo of them laid together. He settles in under the blanket for a long night, starting up a new save file on the easiest difficulty. It can't hurt to play every difficulty available, just to challenge himself.

[eriexplosion]

Okay so when I watched The Solitary Clone the first time, I thought that 'Crosshair shoots Governor Ames because of Cody being threatened, not out of loyalty to the Empire' was just a possibly viable reading of the scene but honestly the more I think about it the harder time I have thinking it's not the most obvious reading.

Because we have this exact setup in season one episode three. Crosshair has been ordered to execute anyone that doesn't have use to the Empire and he does it swiftly and with zero hesitation or mercy for those that wouldn't obey.

The lady that refuses to give information? Doesn't even get to finish her sentence. The civilians? They don't have any information so time to off them. The one guy that steps up and says that they can't do this? Bam, gone.

Of course, he likely had his chip at this point, so there was extra efficiency to it, but the difference between Replacements and Solitary Clone is... way too much for him to be dechipped but still acting primarily out of loyalty to the Empire.

He misses SEVERAL opportunities to shoot the Governor. He had preexisting orders to do whatever it takes to secure the city, so he already basically had orders to kill her walking into the room and we know he can do it regardless of her having a hostage. We have seen what he can do with a gun all episode, the Imperial would have been fine, no question. But he lets Cody do his thing, he lowers his gun. First opportunity missed.

Negotiation ensues. She lets the Imperial Governor go. Second opportunity missed, if he was following orders blindly he could have shot her here under Rampart's orders the instant the Imperial was clear. Rampart outranks Cody, his orders would take precedence and there was now no threat to the officer.

But he doesn't. So okay, now the Imperial Governor gives his order. "Nicely handled. Now execute her." Cody hesitates. Crosshair just stands there. Third opportunity missed to blindly follow orders, both in not taking the shot AND in not lashing out at or even arguing with Cody. So we continue.

"Sir, I promised a peaceful…" "You did. I didn't. Now execute her!"

Another chance to follow orders, because Cody is lingering right here. Nothing. Fourth opportunity missed.

I gave you an order. Follow it, or face the consequences for diso- [blaster fires]

And now we have it. Fifth opportunity taken, Crosshair takes the shot while Cody is being threatened with the consequences for disobedience. Crosshair knows what the consequences are, he fucking dished them out personally last season. We have a reason for why he might have shot here, with clear implications through the dialogue.

But arguing from the other side, that he shot simply because he's following orders... what reason did he have not to take the shot earlier? Just counting from when she let the Imperial officer go, it was a full 31 seconds before he took the shot. Counting from entering the room, he had two and a half minutes to take that shot. So if he is just loyal to the Empire and following his orders... why?

I honestly have tried to think of one because I like looking at all the potential angles and I genuinely can't think of anything. I don't think that there's any possible motivation that makes more sense than him doing it to protect Cody.

If it was just to give Cody more time to shine, okay - have Crosshair shoot on "I gave you an order" and the timing is almost exactly the same with completely different implications. That would imply that he finally chose loyalty to the Empire over anything else. This episode is too cleanly written for them not to be aware of exactly what they're implying by having him wait until Cody was threatened.

[woso-dreamzzz]

Injured (Alexia's Version) II

Alexia Putellas x Teen!Reader

Summary: Alexia comes home from work

Alexia comes in from a long day of coaching to find carnage in the house but no more than usual.

Jaume's muddy football boots are scattered in the entrance hall along with his school bag and his training bag. His jacket is thrown callously on the ground and she can just make out the dishes he hasn't cleaned up from his afternoon snack on the kitchen counters.

Her son is found in the living room, whirred into a game of FIFA and talking into his headset to his friends.

Your own ballet bag sits at the bottom of the stairs and Alexia can hear rhythmic thumping from your bedroom. She pops the door open and throws your bag onto the bed.

You're sitting at your desk, breaking in your pointe shoe by thwacking it against the corner of your study space. You're attacking the shank of your shoe viciously while your other one lays perfectly broken in next to you.

You've raided the sewing box too, a needle already threaded so you can sew on your ribbons as soon as you're done breaking in your second shoe.

"Did that one do something to you?" Alexia says and you jolt in shock, not having realised she came in.

"Yeah," You reply with a wry smile," It didn't come broken in." You whack it one final time against your desk and test its flexibility, finally content and get to work sewing your ribbons onto the shoes.

"You left your bag by the stairs," Alexia says and you roll your eyes.

"Jaume left his stuff all over the house," You reply," He's so messy."

"He's a boy. Boys are messy."

"Have you made him clean it up yet?"

"I'm letting him finish his FIFA match. It might embarrass him in front of his friends."

You roll your eyes again, tying off your first ribbons before moving onto the second. "They're so annoying."

"They're hormonal," Alexia replies. She takes your other shoe and starts sewing a set of ribbons on. "They'll grow out of it."

"Can they grow out of it now?" You mutter," I'm sick of them watching me."

Alexia freezes, like a pail of icy water has been thrown on top of her. Her mouth goes dry. "What?"

You give her a look. "Huh?"

"What do you mean they're watching you?"

You shrug. "I don't know. They're hormonal boys. I'm Jaume's older sister." You wrinkle your nose. "They say gross things sometimes. It's not a big deal."

Alexia hates that aspect of you. You're so resigned to the concept that it is what it is. You had problems like this when you were younger too, merely accepting bullying and rude words at you because you didn't think it would matter if you tried to fight it.

It's something that Alexia's never managed to snap you out of but she never thought that she would see it in a situation like this.

"What kinds of things?"

You frown at her. "I thought you knew."

"No! Is that why you didn't tell me?"

You shrug. "I thought if you were fine with it happening then I should be fine with it happening."

"No...Bambi...You should never think that those kinds of things are okay. They're not and if it happens again, you come to me right away."

You nod, not fully convinced. "Okay, Mami."

"Hey," She says," Put on your shoes. We're overdue a catch up."

Alexia's busy coaching at Barcelona most days. She's almost always working but she tries to find the time for you and Jaume both together and alone. It used to be a tradition that she would take you out once a week by yourself to 'catch up' but work has been so busy these past few weeks so you're long overdue some one-on-one time together.

"I'm sewing my ribbons!" You complain and Alexia fondly ruffles your hair.

"And you can take a break. You've just come from a full day of dancing. Go put on comfortable shoes. You can sew your ribbons tonight."

You huff but do what you're told.

Alexia goes back downstairs, switching the tv off.

"Mami!" Jaume complains, pulling down his headset," I was in the middle of a match!"

She gives him a pointed look. "And your stuff is in the middle of my house."

"I'll pick it up later."

"You'll pick it up now," Alexia says," This isn't your room, Jaume. I like my house to be tidy."

He huffs and moves to get up.

"And tell your friends to stop saying foul things to your sister."

He freezes, every muscle in his body going rigid and stiff. "What?"

"I know what teenage boys are like, Jaume, and I understand peer pressure and not saying anything so you can fit in but this isn't school. Your sister deserves to come home and feel safe."

"It...It was just jokes, Mami."

"Was it? You may think they were joking but were they actually?"

Jaume's face grows a little confused. "But they had to be! There's...There's no way they'd come to our house and...and say those things to her and actually mean them! Right? Mami, right?"

"Jaume..." Alexia sighs. It's clear to her now that Jaume genuinely had no idea that his friends could actually mean what they said. Alexia takes some comfort in knowing that, at least, Jaume hadn't done this out of spite or any other malicious feeling towards you. "Even if they were jokes, your sister doesn't need to be made fun of in her own house. If you let them get away with stuff now then they're just going to keep building and building and building on it until it's too late to stop them."

"Mami..." Jaume looks heartbroken now, glancing up the stairs where he knows you're doing something in your room. "They...She...Is she okay?"

"I'm taking your sister out," Alexia says," She's had a long day at practice and she needs some time to decompress, okay? Can I trust you to clean up your stuff and get started on your homework?"

He nods.

"Good boy." Alexia kisses his forehead. "Your Mama should be home soon. No tv until your work is done."

"Okay, Mami."

Jaume sits himself at the kitchen table, going through a mind-numbingly boring Physics worksheet when you come down.

"Ready to go?" Alexia asks and you nod.

"Hey, wait!" Jaume calls out and you stop, turning to look at you. "I love you."

You frown in confusion. "I love you too."

"Good," He says," I mean, it's good that you know that I love you." He nods several times and a small bubble of laughter erupts from you.

Jaume grins like he just won the lottery and Alexia trusts in her son to lay down the law with his friends.

She guides you out the door and to the car, driving down to some quaint café that's opened up nearby.

"A milkshake?" Alexia offers after you've found a table," I heard from Mapi that they do those big monster ones with a cupcake stabbed through the straw."

"Mami," You admonish," I still have dance tomorrow."

"Hmm," Alexia says," You're right. It's probably too big for one each. We can share."

"Mami!" You laugh," I'm trying to stay healthy. The Spring Season starts soon. We have performances to do."

Alexia reaches over to pinch your cheek and you roll your eyes. "Well, I'm your Mami and I say it's okay. You know, I'm quite wise."

"Fine," You say," But if we're getting a milkshake then let's get the red velvet one."

"Whatever you want, bambi."

Alexia orders some cupcakes and a cookie with it and rolls her eyes as you mock complain with no actual annoyance in your tone.

"Now," She says," I've spoken to your brother and he's going to sort his friends out or else."

You roll your eyes, poking at your food. "It's fine. I can deal with it."

"You shouldn't have to deal with it." Alexia reaches across the table for your hand. "Boys will be boys but that doesn't mean they should be saying those things to you. I...I just...Bambi why didn't you tell me?"

You bit the inside of your cheek, eyes darting to the side.

"Bambi," Alexia says again," Come on. You can tell me things, you know that, right?"

You nod. "I just...I was worried that I was being silly. That..." You shrug. "You know, you would think I was overreacting. It shouldn't bother me as much as it is. They're just stupid boys."

"Boys are always stupid," Alexia says decisively," And I don't think you're overreacting. It's going to be sorted out. If Jaume doesn't then I will."

She speaks so firmly that you can't help but agree, saved from replying by your mouth full of cake.

You still look a little awkward talking about it though so Alexia pivots the conversation away.

"So," She asks," What ballet is it this season?"

You're not usually talkative about the ballets you're practising, preferring it to be a surprise when you gift the family tickets to opening night but with the season approaching, you don't mind as much.

"First half of the season is La Sylphide," You say, sipping on the straw of the milkshake," Second half is Giselle."

Those words mean nothing to Alexia but you look excited so she decides to be excited for you.

Your cheeks go a little red and you pick at your cake. "Actually...I...er..."

"Is something wrong?"

"No...I...Do you remember when I told you that a few of our soloists got injured?"

Alexia racks her brain. "I think so. You said it was after the Nutcracker performances, right?"

You nod. "Well, they're still not back and the balletmaster decided to start doing understudies in case of injuries and sickness."

Alexia nods along. It's a smart choice, like rotating the players in a team.

You don't look at her, staring down at your plate.

"They're guaranteed one night though, you know, as the lead."

"Okay?"

"Mami, I'm playing Giselle."

Alexia chokes. "What?"

You finally look up at her. "I'm playing the lead, Mami."

"I..." Alexia whips out her phone. "What day is it? I need to check I'm not busy. No, I'll rearrange my meetings if I am. Oh, we'll have to call your Abuela and your Tia. Oh! And Mapi too! Jenni, as well." She starts typing away at her phone. "Wait, let me just text Olga. We'll have to get Jaume a proper outfit if you're going to play lead. And-"

"Mami," You cut her off though your voice is soft and quiet," It's not that big of a deal."

"Not that big of a deal?!" Alexia scoffs," You're seventeen years old, playing the lead in a professional ballet company! How could you keep this a secret?! Oh, bambi, we have to sort out tickets. What day did you say it was?"

You laugh. "I didn't, Mami."

Alexia crams the rest of her cake into her mouth. "We have to get home. We have to tell Jaume and Olga!" She looks at you for a moment. "So grown up! My little baby, playing the lead!"

You slouch in your seat. "Mami, calm down. It's for one night. People are staring."

"Up! Up!" Alexia insists," Come on! What do you want for dinner?"

"Mami-"

"You choose. Anything! Anything you want!"

"Mami-"

"What about that fancy place near Alba's house? I think I can get us a reservation."

"Mami!"

"Sorry, bambi. What did you want?"

"Can I just have a hug?"

Alexia pulls you into a hug, cradling the back of your head with her hand. "You make me so proud, bambi. I love you so much."

[startrekfangirl2233-writes]

Ice/Reader and #44 …out of lust. 😘

Hi Mal! This is my first time writing for Iceman and I really like this one! I hope you do too!

Iceman x Reader - A Kiss out of Lust

It's late as you finish washing the dishes standing in your tiny apartment kitchen. You'd just hosted a dinner for your best friend and her new beau, though in all honesty you're not sure how long that'll last. She's not the type to settle down easily and neither is Pete Mitchell. What you hadn't been expecting was the friend Pete had brought along.

Tom, as he was introduced to you, was not what you'd have ever expected for a friend of Pete's. His piercing blue-gray eyes, blond hair with frosted tips and a gorgeous crooked smirk nearly bowled you over. You had accepted Pete's excuse of, "His date stood him up and I thought he could use a quiet night with some friends" at face value, but the more you think about it, the less you believe him. Either they're trying to set you up or there's something else going on. Men that look like Tom Kazansky don't just get stood up. That's more your rung on the eligible date ladder.

But either way, he's been incredibly polite. Not particularly chatty, but sweet, with a cocky underlayer that you couldn't dig through if you tried. You'd ordered all three of them onto your small balcony with some cold drinks while you did the dishes and you hoped they're having a nice time. Really you hope that Pete and your friend aren't sucking face and creeping Tom out.

But when you stagger carefully out onto the balcony with four cold beer bottles in your hands, it's deserted except for one person.

"Um." You sound awkward, of course you do. "Where'd they go?"

"Mav wanted to take your friend for a spin on his bike." He's smiling at you, as you carefully set the bottles down and plonk down onto one of your wrought iron chairs.

"That doesn't surprise me at all." You sip on the cold liquid, relishing in the bubbles tingling down your throat. "So why'd you stay?"

"I wanted to thank a pretty girl for making me the best home cooked meal I've eaten in a long, long time." You hope it's not bright enough for him to see how flustered you are. Your brain must short circuit because he's looking at you like he wants to eat you alive. So you have no control over what you say next.

"So thank me, flyboy?" He stands, unfolding all 6 feet of his lanky body before tugging you close. The first kiss he presses to your lips is sweet, a mere peck. But as your arms wrap around his neck, it deepens, scorching the blood in your veins as heat slips through your veins.

Want to request a Kiss and a pair for me to write? Guidelines are here.

Want to see other Kisses I've written? Here's the full Masterlist.

I DO NOT CONSENT TO HAVE MY WORK POSTED, TRANSLATED, OR PUBLISHED ON ANY SITES OTHER THAN HERE OR ON AO3 BY ME. IF YOU SEE MY WORKS ANYWHERE OTHER THAN HERE OR AO3, THEN THEY HAVE BEEN POSTED WITHOUT MY PERMISSION AND I WILL BE WORKING TO TAKE THEM DOWN.

[whumpcloud]

Delicate - Kind

masterlist

content: pet whump, carewhumper, drinking, mentions of alcoholism, hangover, self-harm (burning, as punishment), begging to be hurt (belted in specific), mentions of beating, mentions of shock collar, emeto, it as a pronoun (not in a dehumanising way)

"I'm going out," Elio says.

Peter visibly brightens at the words. Sir almost never goes out, and Peter was starting to worry that there was a problem he didn't know about, that Sir was like Master and can't go out instead of just choosing not to.

"Where are you going, Sir?" Peter asks, putting down the sponge so he can listen.

"Seeing some friends," Elio shrugs, and pulls on a coat. "Might crash on someone's couch instead of coming home."

"O-Oh." Peter tries not to fidget. "Should I come with you?"

Elio stares at him. "Why would I want you to come with me? I'd look like a fucking idiot, dragging you around."

"...right." Is Peter really so embarrassing? Some kind of secret that Sir has to keep locked up in the house? The comment crawls under Peter's skin. "When will you be back?"

"Dunno, maybe… I guess if I'm not back by three tomorrow, just call Sofia, I'll write down her number for you and stick it by the landline." Elio pauses. "Sofia's my cousin. By the way."

Peter follows him to the living room and watches him scrawl the number on a post-it note. Sofia was the woman Peter met at the shelter, he thinks. He thought he was going to be her Pet at first. He wishes he was. She smelled like roses and told him he looked sweet. Sir never says things like that to him.

"Make sure you take your medicine with you," Peter says, trying to be helpful. "And please don't drink too much, I won't be there to help."

Elio rolls his eyes. "Don't treat me like I'm a teenager, Pete."

"I- I'm just trying to… to help." Why is he so anxious? Peter has found himself getting more and more anxious recently. He never knows if something he says is going to set Sir off. "That's what I'm here for."

"Yeah, yeah, I know," Elio sighs, irritated. "I'll literally be fine, I don't need you breathing down my neck about it."

Peter clenches his fists and turns back to the dishes. "Fine. I won't. Have fun, Sir."

Is this anger? Peter hasn't felt anger in a long time. Oh, no, he's angry at Sir, the last person he should ever be angry at. And Sir has to be able to tell, Peter is going to get punished for daring to allow himself to feel that way and-

He hears the sound of the front door slamming shut and he kicks the kitchen cabinets in frustration at himself. No, Sir never punishes him for feeling, even though he deserves it.

Peter stares at the kettle.

It's more methodical than anything. He heats the water until it boils, then sticks his arm out over the sink, and pours it over his skin. He lets himself scream, just a little - he doesn't want to bother or worry the neighbours - and pours until he feels tears stinging his eyes from the pain, then puts it down.

Good boy. Peter takes a deep breath and swallows the tears. He can cover the burn with his sleeve so that Sir doesn't worry about it. The punishment isn't for him. Peter just needs to be reminded how to be good, and it's a good enough Pet to do that all by itself.

It. Peter can be it, for a while, just until Sir gets back. Another thing to hide from him. It tries to finish the dishes and ignore the pain.

—

It's bored.

Sir didn't give it any special tasks to do, and the flat is completely clean. It took care of all of its own needs - it's started to just wear Sir's clothes after bathing, and they're a little big, but Sir doesn't seem to notice or care - so now it has nothing else to do. It lies upside down on the couch for a moment, like it's seen Sir do, but all the blood rushes to its head and it gets up almost immediately.

It wanders into the kitchen, looking for food just to have something to do. The fridge is mostly empty, and Peter stops for a minute to write down that it needs to order more groceries, before turning back. Really, the only things in the fridge are bottles of cider.

Peter fidgets. It's always wondered what the appeal of being drunk was. It makes people violent and aggressive and unsteady on their feet. Why would anyone want that?

Well, Sir isn't here. It could find out.

Mentally, Peter kicks itself for thinking that at all. There would absolutely be consequences for that! Sir could come back, he didn't say he was definitely staying out. And Peter can't do what it's made for under the influence. And Sir is an addict, who knows how he'll react if his Pet drinks even one bottle that's supposed to be his?

Peter takes one anyway. It doesn't care what Sir does, not right now. Maybe Peter wants to know what it's like to be drunk, but it thinks that mostly it wants to spite Sir.

It's supposed to feel bad about that, feel some kind of terror at the idea of Sir's response. It doesn't.

With a quiet "oof" of effort, Peter uses the wall-mounted bottle opener to get the cider bottle open. It takes a swig, and the drink is much sweeter than it expected. Doesn't Sir prefer more sour drinks? Still, Peter can taste the alcohol strongly. This can't be worth it.

Maybe it just needs to drink more to understand.

Halfway through the third bottle, Peter starts to feel it. Its mind starts to blur at the edges. It grabs a few more bottles - how many more it doesn't really know - and falls back onto the sofa. Is this how Sir feels all the time? It isn't that Peter doesn't know how addiction works, of course whatever they're taking has to feel good somehow, but it didn't understand how it felt good when it made people act so badly. This feels so good.

Peter giggles to itself and takes another sip.

—

Elio thought going out would make him feel better, but it didn't. He's barely present for the conversations going on, and he finds himself just letting the host know he's leaving and slipping out of the door.

He'd have thought Peter would be asleep by now, but no, Peter is lying on the sofa staring up at the ceiling.

"Pete?" Elio asks. "Why are you up?"

"Huh?" Peter blinks, then turns to face Elio, and smiles wide. "Oh… hi, Sir!"

Elio narrows his eyes. There are bottles beside the sofa.

"Have you been drinking?" Elio says, through gritted teeth.

"Don't get pissy about it," Peter rolls his eyes and stares up at the ceiling again. "You get pissy about everything."

Elio blinks, before stepping closer. "What?"

"You're so mad at me all the time," Peter says, as though it's nothing. "What did I ever actually do to you? Other than exist, I guess."

"Are you serious right now?" Elio clenches his fists. "You drink half the cider in the fridge and you think it's a good idea to start a fucking argument?"

"You left me alone," Peter shrugs. "You didn't tell me I couldn't."

"Don't be stupid!"

"Oh yeah, and you call me stupid all the time," Peter says, in the same breathy tone. He isn't snapping or shouting, and that's annoying Elio even more. "I'm smart, I know I'm smart. I know lots more than you. You can't even keep your flat clean. And you never appreciate me for that either. I do all these things for you and you're so rude for no reason. Is it just me or are you like that to everyone?"

"I swear to god, Pete," Elio hisses, "shut the fuck up right now."

"Or what? You never punish me for anything. Are you going to grow a backbone?" Peter stumbles upright, then drops to his knees in front of Elio. "Go on. Hit me. I dare you, Sir."

Elio stares at him. Is this what's been buried under Peter's politeness? This spite, this resentment? There is the urge in Elio, for a minute, to slap Peter across the face as he can.

Then it fades. "Absolutely not."

"See!" Peter is getting louder, now. "I insult you to your face and you still won't do anything! Master would've beat the shit out of me for this."

"Yeah, well, I'm not him," Elio snaps.

"No, you're not," Peter casts his eyes to the floor. "I wish you were. I miss him."

"Why do you miss him if he beat you?" Elio scoffs.

"He wanted me!"

Elio feels the urge to hit Peter again. "Yeah, okay, I didn't want you. But I didn't want to send you back either, so here we fucking are."

"Why didn't you send me back?" Peter leans up, glaring at Elio. "There was no reason not to!"

"Because- Because!" Elio doesn't know if he has an answer. "I- I felt bad, I guess. You were right there and I just… I don't know!"

Peter rocks back and forth, twisting the fabric of his jumper. "I just wish you'd… I just want a thank you sometimes, or my hair stroked. Remember when you let me lie in your lap? That was good! I'm not supposed to want things but I want you to be kind to me!"

There's a silence, for a moment, before Peter realises what he's said.

"Is that too much?" Peter whispers. "Is that bad? I shouldn't be asking you for things."

Elio isn't a kind person. He knows that. He doesn't try to be, because he would have to try all the goddamn time and he doesn't have the patience. But Peter is a human being, a human being he's stuck with and is asking him to be kind. Just a thank you or a pat on the head. Can't he manage that? Is he really that bad?

"Just…" Elio sighs. "Come on. Let's get you to bed. We'll talk about it in the morning. When you aren't drunk."

Peter lets Elio help him up, but stops Elio from pulling him towards his room.

"Can I sleep with you, Sir?" Peter asks, quiet again. "Please? Just for tonight."

With an irritated sigh, Elio concedes. "Yeah. Sure."

Elio hasn't slept in the same bed as another person for years, so when Peter not only lays down beside him, but clutches at his shirt for comfort, Elio feels a little strange.

"Can you hold me?" Peter whispers. "Please? I'm sorry if I'm asking too much."

Strange is definitely the word. Peter is curling up to make himself seem small, but there's only a few inches of difference between them. Elio ends up putting his hand on the back of Peter's head, fidgeting with his hair. Peter murmurs a thank you.

—

Peter wakes up with a horrific headache.

He lets out a tiny whimper, realising he's still curled up against Sir. He only remembers bits and pieces of last night, but he knows what he said, he knows how bad his insults were, and the fear and the pain and the churning in his stomach is twisting his insides into knots.

He forces himself out of bed - he asked Sir to hold him after saying all of that, how could he? - and drops to his knees beside it, shivering and close to tears, even though he's not supposed to cry, he can't cry!

He's a bad Pet. Why is he always a bad Pet? For once in his stupid, worthless life, can't he do something right? No wonder Sir never praises him or gives him any affection. He hasn't earned it, he'll never earn it.

"Pete?"

Peter's forehead hits the floor. He can't form words for a moment, can't figure out what he even should say to try to earn some kind of forgiveness, if he deserves that at all and not just to be discarded.

"I'm sorry!" Peter says, voice coming out as a desperate whimper. "I'm so, so sorry, I should have never said those things to you, Sir, o-or gotten drunk on your cider, or- or any of it! I'm s-s-so sorry, please p-punish me--"

Peter's begging devolves into incoherent sobs. He isn't supposed to feel like this. Master would have beat him black and blue for crying, maybe put the shock collar back on and let the electricity run through him until he learned to bury all these useless feelings again. Sir hasn't punished him yet but he still could.

"...Pete, sit up."

Peter immediately straightens his back, even though it makes his throat burn with bile and his vision swim. Frantically, he rubs at his eyes to hide or at least dry his tears, but he hiccups and has to cover his mouth so that he doesn't throw up onto the carpet.

"Jesus," Elio mutters. "Okay. Come on. I'm taking you to the bathroom, don't argue with me or say anything else."

Peter doesn't speak a word. Elio takes him under the arms and gently guides him to the bathroom. Almost immediately, Peter falls onto the tiles and vomits into the toilet bowl.

"I'm- I'm sorry," Peter gasps. "I'm s-so sorry, I sh-shouldn't be sick--"

"You're hungover," Elio says flatly, crouching down beside him. "If you weren't sick I'd be surprised. You weigh basically nothing and you had, like, six bottles? And you've probably never been drunk before. It's fine."

"I sh-shouldn't have drunk th-them in the first p-place," Peter whines, tears still streaming down his cheeks.

"They're literally two-fifty. Cheaper if I get a multipack. I'll just get some more."

"But I- I--"

"Fucking listen to me, Pete!"

Peter squeaks and shuts his mouth.

Elio swallows. "I… sorry. Shouldn't have smapped. Look. It's fine."

"I can't… I c-can't take care of you l-like this…" Peter gags and lets out a little whimper. "I'm useless, I'm- I…"

With a sigh, Elio gently rubs the back of Peter's neck. Peter practically melts into the touch.

"I don't need taken care of, okay?" Elio says. "Not when you're like this. You're always doing everything all the time, anyway. I think we'll live if you can't clean up for one day."

"But what a-about- about your--"

"Shh," Elio says, and it's the gentlest tone he's ever used with Peter. "You're sick. You're spending the day resting."

"But S-Sir--!"

"That's an order," Elio replies firmly. "Do you need me to hold your bangs back while you puke?"

Peter miserably nods his head.

—

By the time evening has rolled around, Peter is feeling much better. Elio has brought him painkillers, which is more than he deserves, and even managed to make meals so that Peter eats. This time when Elio enters the room, Peter is on his knees, fidgeting with a folded belt.

"What are you doing?" Elio asks.

"I… I'm better now, Sir," Peter says quietly. "So I thought I would, um, save you the trouble of finding something to punish me with. U-Unless you already… had a plan…"

"Don't be-" Elio stops himself. He was about to call Peter stupid again. Like it's a reflex. Come on, Elio, you can be nice. "Pete. What do you think you need punished for?"

"For insulting you," Peter replies, voice shaking. "For drinking. A-And for crying."

Elio sighs. "You already apologised. No punishment."

"But I need to learn!" Peter insists.

Keep it together, Elio. "Are you going to do it again if I don't beat you with a belt?"

Peter falters. "N-No."

"So it's unnecessary," Elio shrugs. "No punishment. Actually, no punishments ever. For anything. I don't wanna do that. It'll just make us both feel bad."

"...never?" Peter stares at Elio like he has two heads.

"Never," Elio nods. "Look, you already got consequences. You were sick and you feel sorry now. So… that's enough."

Peter is quiet, and Elio uses the moment to take the belt. He doesn't understand why you would actually hit a Pet. That's still a human being.

"What's the point of punishing a Pet like you, anyway?" Elio asks, half-rhetorically. "How are you supposed to take care of people if you're injured?"

"Usually Service Pets wouldn't be punished," Peter explains in a soft voice. "But it… it was part of my responsibilities. Master had anger issues. If Master was hitting me when he was angry, he wouldn't break important things."

Elio folds his arms. Remembers the conversation from last night. "I'm not gonna hit you if I'm mad. You're… you're important, Pete."

Peter blinks, then smiles. There's a warm sensation in his chest. "Thank you, Sir."

Sir thinks I'm important.

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[possessionisamyth]

I am thinking of Jill being the opposite of a recluse post-re5. After being passed between one too many hospitals before she's given as clean a bill of health as she can get, she ignores the doctor's orders of taking things easy. She goes out to drink, dance, and meet people.

It's not because the idea of staying home is repulsive, but because she'd been forced into the recluse schtick after the mansion incident, and it didn't save her. It didn't save anyone. So she takes one of the terms she heard off hand from one of her psychology sessions known as "exposure therapy" and goes out. She wants to separate the screams of excitement from the ones of terror. She wants to get lost in a sea of bodies, lost in the space of another person's body, but not her own. The music is loud enough to drown out her thoughts until she steps outside. She's kicked out of a few clubs because someone she didn't know decided to grab her arm to get her attention and she reacted promptly, but it doesn't limit her activity.

She believes it's helping. Her insomnia works in her favor. She nurses one drink the entire night so she can get home, but there's no 24 hour dance clubs. In the light of day, she has to live with her thoughts by herself. Her apartment is minimalist due to a lack of anything personal to her. Chris and Barry tried to save as much as they could from her old apartment, but she threw out everything besides photos. They were the only reminders she needed. Besides, she's barely in her apartment anyway. She doesn't need more things to clean and dust. Everything is temporary. Sometimes, if she's lucky, she gets some sleep after coming home due to physical exhaustion. If she's really lucky, her sleep is dreamless. Other times, it's a quick shower and a half-assed smoothie for breakfast before she's back in her car. To the gym or the pool depending on the season. To as many community events where she can sit down and strike up a conversation with people just as eager to have someone to talk to.

Her sessions with her psychologist, some missed on purpose, eventually cease. Jill's being cooperative, but she's no longer presenting anything new or different, so she comes off as stable. Regular therapy is strongly recommended, and Jill takes the card but never calls. More time passes with nothing major happening. The world is quiet on her radar. Inevitably after getting too comfortable, she missteps. The small things stack on top of each other. One drink nursed through the night goes from two to ten. She rides home with a friend or stumbles into taxis and picks up her car the next day. Her apartment remains pristine due to the lack of decor, but there's always dishes in the sink. There's always trash to take out. There's always laundry to fold. The weights she can lift at the gym only go so high. The pool isn't open year round. There are events aplenty going on somewhere, but not all of them have chairs to sit in, and not all of them pertain to her interests.

The virus has enhanced all her senses, so the first time she tastes something foreign in her drink is when she loses herself. She finishes the drink. She waits. She pretends to slump over. A man she's seen on and off frequenting this particular club offers to help her home. She waits until they're outside, and she punches him. The surprise on his face registers for a brief second before she punches him again. The right way. The wrong way. He's on the ground. She knows how to knock a man unconscious. She knows how to kill a man. She's strong enough to do either. There's blood. Is he dead? There's blood on her knuckles as she shouts at the bouncer to call an ambulance. There's blood on her knuckles as she drives herself home. There's blood on her knuckles, fingers, nail beds, palms, and all the way up to elbows under the strain of water from her sink.

Who could she call to talk her down? Her dancing friends don't know anything about her history. Her long term friends were busy with work. Her one other friend lived in a completely different hemisphere. Mentally, she collapses. She's locked in her apartment again, but it's not like Raccoon City. It's not because strangers are watching her, but because she needs to watch herself. It takes a few months for her to crawl out of the paranoia, yet the desperation lingers. She wonders where did her control go and how can she get it back. Sitting next to her emptied fruit bowl in the kitchen is the card with a number she never called. She picks up the phone.