#even though you wielded the trash can

[revo-depresso]

Mad respect for the player named “DJ Octussy”

[thebomb-thebird-andtheburntbitch]

a/n: 2.3k - boothill finds you digging around in junk and then offers you a gift he hopes you won't refuse... [plsdontflopplsdontflopplsdont-]

the heavy metal clinking of boothill's foot steps clank their way to your shop's door. an all too familiar door he'd always find himself going up to whenever he was in need of repair- big or small. the swiveling security camera you keep at your entrance blinks with red-lit life and moves to start following his movements as soon as he enters it's field of vision.

who knows if you're ever actually paying attention to the camera feed or not though. you can be careless like that. sometimes you're just out- couldn't be bothered or could care less about the remote feed linked directly to your phone. other times, you're so focused on some project you neglect it entirely.

based on the sign hanging on your shop's door he was familiar with- it seemed that this time in particular you were out.

boothill didn't need to know how to write- much less read well- to take a wild gander as to where you had wondered off to. putting his spring loaded and metal jointed hands on his slim waist, his chin dips with an amused chuckle and shake of his head. the cowboy lifts the toe of his mechanical boot and twists his body fully 'round; his spurs scrapping across the ground during his lazy about-face. with one foot in front of the other and thumbs hooked through the hollow crops of his trousers, the galaxy ranger makes his way towards the junk yard.

it would never occur to the standard person to spend their free time digging around a scrap yard filled with junk thrown out for a reason- but you were anything but standard. if you weren't tinkering around in your shop or finishing up a repair or commission, you were scrounging around the grounds for material or 'hidden treasure'... which was key for just slightly more valuable junk.

a typical haul for you would be a few pieces of scrap metal you could use for wielding, the rare unstripped screw or loose gaggle of bolts, and all sorts of wire. if it saved you a few credits by finding material instead of buying them, you weren't one to argue with free trash.

passing under the wire-metal gate leading into the fenced-off territory, his thumbs still tucked into his pant legs, his ears stay sharp. listening for any sound of you digging around in some heap while his head swivels back and forth to try and catch a glimpse of you.

"ey, sugar, you around!" boothill shouts, one of his hands detaching from his hips to cup around his mouth. he wanders further in, gets more ground, before calling out the same sentence a second time. shaking his head in bewilderment on how far in you had gone digging, he goes even further still and tries calling out a third time.

"here!" you finally answer back. your voice echoes around him, bouncing off the scrap metal and spooking the rats and other critters that call the junk yard home. his head turns in the direction of your voice, the way his body leans towards it before his feet start carrying him that way never took notice in his own mind.

eventually, he makes it to you. squat down to the ground, under the rusty remains of some poor saps long eroded escape pod from whatever solar system they crashed in from. he crosses his arms, then his ankles, leaning his metal shoulder on the ruined dome you were digging under.

the ranger had no idea how long you had been out here, but judging by the half full bag you kept on your shoulder and the grease sticking to your neck and exposed skin he could guess it's been a bit. he chuckles when you dig out a rusted, broken pipe of... something, before tossing it over your shoulder with a disappointed click of your tongue and looking up at him. your cheeks had some gunk on it too, probably from you wiping the back of your gloves on it.

"fancy diggin' around in junk?"

"it's not all junk."

"the fudge it aint," he scoffs. to him, it absolutely was all junk. "this aint called the dang junk yard for nothin, sugar."

"it's a scrap yard."

"stubborn-bottom." you move to stand up, clapping your gloved hands together before taking them off so you could use your hands more freely. "good to see ya took my advice and startin' wearing some forkin' gloves around here." he eyes around at all the rust and sharp metal. "gonna get tetanus or somethin', and we can't have that."

"im liable to get tetanus from you before anything else," you joke so straight-faced it didn't feel like a joke. his crossed arms drop along with his jaw and his stance straightens as he uncrosses his ankles.

"ey', i aint as forkin' filthy as you pretend i am, and you know it." you shrug with a half smirk that was so dismissive he was tempted to keep arguing. you push the goggles you were wearing over your eyes to avoid getting anything in them and possible irritation onto your forehead. seeing the contrast between your sweaty, grease and dirt marked skin and the clean skin that was protected under the goggles had him scoff. "yer filthier than i am, by the look of things."

you roll your eyes and move to climb out of the rusty treasure trove of junk you had deemed no longer having anything of value. reaching out, boothill offers you his hand. you take it easily as he starts pulling you up and out to stand in front of him. your hand drops from his when you stand safely in his bubble, and he isn't sure if you know how close you are or not.

your nose is always so focused in tinkering around or messing with work that you can't always... read the room so to speak. its endearing, until it gets frustrating anyway.

"so, what're you here for this time? need something fixed again- i swear if you already burned through that new servo i replaced a month ago, im going to take off your arm and you won't get it back for a week."

"well, that's awful sweet of you." you knew by his dry tone and sneered lips that exposed his sharp teeth that the word sweet was definitely supposed to be a different five-letter word starting with 's'. one that his broken beacon (which you refuse to fix out of entertainment) wouldn't allow him to say.

"seems like an appropriate consequence to me, considering i don't charge you for repairs."

"i ain't here for not goose-dud repair," he hisses. "i had planned on givin' ya somethin', but based on your sweet attitude i aint so sure about it now."

"you brought me something?" he nods. "from a different solar planet?" he could see the curiosity start to ignite in your eyes. he nods again. you stuff your gloves into a pouch in your pants that he swears you've sewed another pocket into, before you're marching away from him and towards the entrance he had marched from at the beginning of this search. "well come on, let's get a moving!" you shout over your shoulder.

his synthetic voice chuckles at your back. eagerly waltzing after you.

boothill soon finds himself sitting with his knees apart and comfortably lounging with his arms on the back of your worn-down, two-cushioned couch the moment you two got back to the shop. he had taken himself to your quote- reception room, as he waited for you to unload your finds from the junkyard (meaning you just took your bag, flipped it upside and let its content spill out unceremoniously onto your worktable before you would eventually sort through it at a later time).

the tapping of his metal toes against your floor echoed dully against the rug under the sofa as you soon made your way to stand in front of him, hands on your hips and an expectant look in your eyes. flicking the brim of his hat cheekily to get a better look up at you, he lifted his chin.

"my attention is yours," you dramatically sigh, hands flaring to your sides before bouncing back against your legs.

"im flattered, sugar," he jests back. still, he shifts. the small pouch he had strung to his belt that was home to his array of extra fire rounds was soon detached from him. the string of which was used to tie it to him previously, hangs lazily from his metal fingertips. with a raised, semi-skeptical brow, you carefully take it off his hands.

"if this is some sort of prank," you warn. his hands raise in the air with his elbows still resting comfortably on the back of the cushions he was leaning against, gesturing that he meant no harm.

slowly- cautiously- you pull open the bag and remove two different items that had been nestled safely inside.

tossing the now empty bag onto the couch next to boothill's leg, you took each item into one hand and looked between them. one was a small crystal that was no larger than the center of your palm. shining a swirling color of green and blue, you could only imagine that it would look even prettier properly polished and with a light shining behind it. in the other was a small box, one that could be opened with a rusty lid. giving it a small rattle revealed something to be inside. doing so revealed a small robot that had been covered in rust, missing a robotic arm and wires spilling out from under the cracked and broken screen that would most definitely have acted as it's face.

"what's all this?" you ask softly. boothill stands from his lackadaisical lounging on your sofa to come and waltz up to your side. he pointed at the robot sitting sadly in the container he had brought him in first.

"i found this lil fella and thought you'd have a gas fixin' him right up. as for that," he points to the crystal of dual-swirling shades next, "accordin' to my scanners, that there's a pretty dadgum power source." boothill takes the small crystal from your palm and hovers it just above the robot. "it suits him, don't it?" he chuckles.

in truth, the slightly dingy looking crystal shard was too magnificent compared to the busted and rusted robot. but, with a bit of work, repair and love, perhaps the color of the crystal really would look nice against polished sheet metal.

"i figure givin' you somethin' else to tinker with would be more... enriching than just your usual forkin' machines." and it could keep you company, but he didn't say that out loud.

when you would get it working like he knew you could, maybe you'd stop and think about him while he was away chasing his reality out as a galaxy ranger. if you could just spare a single thought towards him every day because of a small robot and shiny rock? he'd be tickled pink.

"he's cute," you whisper gently and boothill wonders if you know you said it out loud at all. he chuckles, bringing his hand up to cup the designed dents atop his cowboy hat. taking it off his head, he gently drops it onto yours, gaining your attention back from the gifts he had given you.

the way you lift your eyes to look at him- filled with something akin to excitement and fondness- and gently cradle the small rusty robot with his hat now shadowing your face, he could almost hear the wires in his chest running on turbo. he'd had to cool down asap before he overheated or crashed.

taking a step back- for his own sake- he leaves his hat on your head before patting your back.

"get to it," he softly tells you. you mutely nod, an excited smile breaking out over your lips as you trot towards a different room. it was a small private work space you retreated to for personal projects. boothill was one that was usually allowed inside since this room was where he would get his tune ups most times.

with boothill following your back, he watches you trot to your work bench. you gently set the robot's box down and remove it from inside. the crystal you submerged in a bowl that you soon fill with polish to let it soak. it took all of ten minutes before you're surrounded by tools and wires and equipment made for digital repairs. all the while boothill remade his comfort in a worn-down rocker you kept in the corner, content on staying put until he was forced to leave. whether it by your or by his next bounty.

he couldn't very well leave you with his hat either, even if it looked better on you than him.

the next time boothill comes into your shop after that gift drop off, it wasn't a visit but a proper repair. running out of cooling agent for his internal hardware was just waiting for a disaster to happen. his synthetic-coded laugh burst into the room jollily as when he sat down on the stool he always planted his ass in for repairs, a small, shiny robot- with the cutest digital expressions and a small blue-green swirling crystal placed in the center of its chest- was waddling across your work bench. a vile of blue cooling agent the near size of his small metal body grasped tightly in its robotic arms.

it chirped happily with a digital reverb when you thank it for bringing the coolant over.

boothill was indeed tickled as pink could get seeing you already attached to the lil fella. he wondered what you named it.

a/n: smol robot go beep-boop (i love the idea of mechanic!reader just having a cute lil guy to follow them around like a puppy :(( [big thanks to @/birinboom and my partner for letting me pick their brain on what gifts boothill ended up giving to the reader bc i had no idea lol smooches <3]

[shy-writer-999]

are there any character you think would get hot and bothered by a good spar with their s/o? how do you think think they’d act once they get worked up in that manner?

hmmmm... Zoro and Shanks are my answers right off the bat, but I could also imagine this with Ace, Kid, Smoker, and Law (if he felt like humoring someone enough to spar with them). I’ll sketch out some (nsfw) thoughts w/Zoro and Shanks—see below the cut! No anatomy mentioned, but for Shanks’s portion there are pet names, among them, princess. also thanks for putting this in my inbox it was such a treat to think about! (✿˘ω˘)˘ε˘˶ )

Zoro (✿˵ ꒡3꒡˵)

He’s amused that anyone thinks they’d be able to match his speed enough to spar

When you get into it though, he’s surprised because he underestimated you

He didn’t expect you to be as much of a challenge as you are, and your brains work in such different ways that your next move is often unpredictable, haki aside. You keep him on his toes

What starts getting him hot and bothered is seeing you work up a sweat. Your panting and heaving breaths remind him of how you sound in bed, and it starts to make his mind wander. He observes how lithely you parry, how gorgeous you are with a flush over your cheeks

You catch him off guard because his mind is elsewhere, and when he blocks your sword, your faces are inches away from each other

The intense and serious eye contact you hold with him when the sparring sessions get heated starts to get him really worked up

Zoro wants to finish the sparring session, but he wants to fuck you too—he does a mental balancing act about which of these should come first

He blocks one of your lunges so forcefully that your sword goes flying, and then he chucks his off to the side and basically pounces on you (you saw that coming a mile away); he’d want to make out and get handsy, then he’d pick you up and fuck you senseless

Zoro is partial to grunting and groaning out whatever comes to mind when he’s buried deep inside, along the lines of “it's so fuckin’ hot when you fight me," "you're so pretty when you're violent, I might just let you land a blow next time," and “I wanted to fuck you the whole time”, etc.

Shanks (´ ᴗ｀✿)

Shanks loooveeessss any chance he can get to spar with you

Seeing how good you are at it turns him on

He just loves someone who is good at what they do and who throws themselves into it passionately

When you spar, you’re both having a great time—you exchange banter, smiles, cheeky side-eyes, and some mild trash talking

Even with the banter, he’ll sweet talk you the whole time

His hair looks so good as he dodges and parries your advances. He’ll push his hair back from his face with one hand as he effortlessly dodges your blows

When you almost get him, he says something like “What, can’t you try any harder than that, angel?” or “almost had me that time, princess”

Shanks pays special attention to how your eyes flutter, how you’re perspiring, how your chest moves up and down with each breath—he admires your beauty and gets so distracted that you actually manage to pin him. Your sword is at his throat, and he breaks out into a grin. He'd say something like "you look even more gorgeous than usual holding a sword at my throat, baby" or "shit, sweetheart, be careful where you put that thing”

When you’re both tuckered out and sheathe your swords, he’ll pull you tight by your waist unexpectedly, or he’ll grab a handful of your ass as you walk away.

“Done already, sugar? Don’t you want to continue our session inside?”

He’ll pull you into sloppy kisses and when he’s feeling spicy, he’ll either carry you off to the shower or just fuck you right there on the spot. While his cock is in you, he'd call you sweet names and praise you. He'd be a fan of telling you that he's "never seen someone so gorgeous wield a sword" and that "you got me so worked up, it's only fair that I return the favor"

[lackeyhenchman]

I can't even say I don't get Ascended Astarion, because I kinda really do. I've been enjoying the empathetic assessments from people who won't make excuses for him. He's a bastard to deal with but also such a TEXTUAL MESS...

I love how obvious they make it that he's grasping for the player character and trying to nail them down. His dialogue feels to me like he wants you so bad but his learned distrust makes him hurt his own feelings about it. I know exactly what it's like to panic like "if this isn't set in stone, assured, and safe, I need to detach before it kills me". That fear comes with the urge to test boundaries and allegiances. And he's not self-aware enough to wield the power you just won for him, so he tests you in the most monstrous way he can. And then when you fail the test, you're trashed. Even though he clearly doesn't want to trash you. In a game without so much emphasis on player consent, he might be a flatter character who just takes you for himself, like he gloats that he should have.

I love "you'll regret leaving me, more than anything you live to regret." For one, it's nice to hear that he's still so invested. But it also shows that he's a wee babe who still doesn't realize he tripped his own damn self down the stairs

[hunnyrants]

A/N welcome to part 2 thats been written for like 4 months but was forgotten about entirely 🤠 oops? not proofread, we die like men.

Pairing: Azriel X Cadre!Reader

Summary: After a few days in the night court with your mate, you have nightmares triggered by the unfamiliar environment.

Warnings: PTSD, trauma induced nightmares, mentions of dying, mental torture, dissociation, angst, fear of the dark

Nightmare Pt. 2

Azriel's hands were trembling. Cassian noticed them immediately after he broke down the massive oak doors. Alarm had filled him once the house's lights began flickering as he was readying for bed and the doors threw open on their own. Even more so when he'd run in and seen you unconscious and clutched protectively in his arms as if you might slip away from him at any second. The room was trashed as well, but even that seemed secondary when the scent of his highlord was fresh in the room and nowhere to be seen.

Cassian opened his mouth to ask for Rhys’ whereabouts, when the muted sound of retching filled the room- Azriel curled tighter around you at the sound. Cass turns towards the set of doors leading to your closet and bathing room, striding towards them immediately before knocking furiously.

“Rhys?”

A beat of silence.

“A minute, please.”

Taken aback slightly by the curt response, Cassian turns back towards Azriel who has his nose and mouth pressed against the side of his mate's head. His wings curled around the two of you as a barrier but low enough that he can still see over them and into the room beyond. The incessant ticking of the clock on the mantel seemed to be a hammer taken to a coffin, Cass had counted up to nearly a hundred before Rhys finally stepped out of the washroom.

He opened his mouth as if to say something but glanced at Azriel who had yet to make note of his entrance into the room.

“I felt her blood oath,” was all that came out.

“To the fire breathing bitch queen? That must've been rough,” Cass says, an attempt at brightening the mood. Stars guttered in Rhys’ eyes though.

“Yes, but there was an older one,” he shakes his head and drags a hand over his mouth. Cassian helps himself to the small bar near the fireplace of your rooms and pours Rhys a finger's worth of whiskey. He pauses for a moment, glancing at Azriel. Would he even notice if there was a drink put in front of him?

Likely not, not with the slight tremors that even the feared shadowsinger couldn't hide. And definitely not with the glare he's leveling at Rhys.

“It… fuck,” Rhys presses the heels of his palms against his eye sockets and pushes deeply, causing spots to appear across his vision that nearly blend in with the frantic shadows that are swarming around the unconscious female.

Cassian pours Azriel a drink finally and sets it on the nightstand before handing Rhys his. Rhys sets it down without drinking it and leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

“It was just an echo of what was once there. But it ran deep.” Rhys takes a deep breath, ”Her old master was daemati, and wielded shadows as well.”

A low growl comes from deep in Az's chest in response, making Cass raise his brows and his brother droop more somehow. A roaring begins in his head as he contemplates what could have been so bad to have Rhys this rattled, he hasn't been like this since Nesta had her own nightmares a year prior.

Cassian was very glad then that Nesta had listened and stayed behind in their shared room.

“She was the queen's right hand, had the blood oath and her own mind used against her,” he pauses again and seems to brace himself. Rhysand raises his head and catches his brother's eye.

“Azriel is going to react badly.” the highlord's voice ringing clearly through the general's head. A subtle order and one not easily given. Cassian widens his stance and braces himself for the storm.

“She was enslaved for over 500 years-” he says finally, “-I reminded her of it enough that it triggered flashbacks.”

The room dropped several degrees as Azriel's shaking worsened and his grip shifted against you. A scarred hand sliding into your hair and tucking your head against the side of his neck, all while his eyes appeared to freeze over as he stared daggers at his highlord.

Cauldron and Mother above, the silence was unbearable.

Rhys put his hands up in a placating gesture, “Az-”

“No.” Helfrost seemed to coat the word as it left the shadowsinger's mouth.

“Not one more word Rhysand.”

The highlord of the night court winced. At the use of his full name and the fact it was his own brother who used it against him.

“Az, it's not like he did it on purpose,” Cassian attempted. “We didn't know. None of us could have.”

A humorless laugh left Azriel then.

“And yet Rhys saw fit to push so hard into her mind she couldn't even tell me herself.”

A pit formed in Cassian's stomach then, he hadn't considered that would have crossed his brother's mind.

“Because my magic is- was similar to the queens, her mind caved in easier than I expected.” Rhysand continues with a wave towards his face, “My physical attributes were another trigger. Black hair and even similar eye color, I think it was made worse when she saw me after her nightmare.”

“It was all bad.” He finishes, keeping his eyes on the male who looked torn between leaping across the room and throttling him and clutching the warrior in his arms.

Cassian moves to sit opposite Rhys in the plush forest green armchairs of your room. Angling himself to leap between the males if necessary.

“Where is Nesta?” Azriel breathes finally, his thumb brushing against the nape of your neck as his fingers gently scratch at your scalp. As if the soothing gesture might fix everything happening right now.

Cass stiffens and can't help his own instincts to protect his mate. “Waiting for me- did- do you want her here?”

Azriel closes his eyes and nods.

“She'll be safer with Nesta than anyone else here currently.”

“They will make for quite the duo,” Rhys says, the darkness in his eyes seeming to spread further. Azriel's lips pull back in a silent snarl when Cassian stands and claps Az on the shoulder, careful not to jostle him.

“Welcome to the ‘my mate has scary powers club’, brother,” Cass grins.

Rhysand heaves a long, suffering sigh as his eyes grow distant, contacting Nesta mind to mind rather than sending Cassian. Just in case Azriel decided he wanted to avenge any pain his mate was put in.

It took no more than a couple heartbeats to pass before Nesta shoves through the splintered door, her night slippers crunching against the pieces. Her silver eyes surveyed the trashed room quickly and ataraxia pulses gently with light in her hand.

Azriel cradling you against his chest with your legs strewn over his lap, perched on the side of the large bed built to accommodate wings and the dark teal bedding strewn about haphazardly. Nesta assessed her mate for injuries but quickly dismissed him as fine when she noticed the dark energy seemingly radiating off of Rhysand.

“Is the commander alright?” She asks finally, her quicksilver eyes catching hazel ones.

“Will you watch her for me?” Azriel dodges coldly but not unkindly.

Nesta nods and strides towards the bed where Azriel hesitates to part from the female despite his request. Eventually he does adjust you so you're laying properly on the bed and Nesta settles on the other side after setting her blade against the side of the bed. Nesta turns towards you then, brushing a lock of hair from your relaxed face and settles a cold soothing hand against your hot to the touch shoulder.

It was that movement alone that reassured Azriel enough to stand finally, his knees popping after being curled uncomfortably for too long.

“Tell me everything Rhysand, or I'm going to fucking lose it.”

Even Nesta looked at the highlord with pity as the words finished sounding, realizing they were all in for a long night.

[youryurigoddess]

The biggest Easter egg yet

I’ve been meaning to address this for a while now, but @camdenleisurepirates gave me the final push after reading my piece on Gabriel’s cross. Huge thanks for that morsel of motivation, my ADHD brain loves you.

This is going to be yet another long read, although not as extensive as my bookshop statues meta. Still, better get yourself some hot chocolate or another drink of your choice and make sure you’re comfortable!

Now, remember the X-Ray interview with Peter Anderson on Easter Eggs in the opening animation he created for the second season? Forget red herrings, apparently our fandom has a literal red phone box! I’m convinced that this whole scene is a one big — the biggest, actually — Easter Egg, and I’ll explain why step-by-step.

The red phone box Crowley used to warn Aziraphale about the Antichrist and the following Armageddon in S1, the exact one where he left change for an emergency call, seems important enough in terms of the future S3 plot, but there’s so much more going on in this frame. Not only the lift.

The angels

At the very start of this sequence we can see a fragment of an elaborate bridge guarded by cherubs sitting on two columns, maybe globes, leading to a distant structure built over a literal mountain of trash — all elements of the S1 and S2 openings which were consciously picked out by the animators and put together in a very ominous pile.

Ready for some scavenging?

In the Gabriel’s cross meta, I already mentioned the importance of Ponte Sant’Angelo in relation to the ex-Archangel’s statue. Now it’s time to widen our perspective and focus on the full picture — quite literally. Apparently the bridge from the opening sequence has ten statues of angels, exactly as the Italian historical monument.

First things first though: the two big cherubs guarding the entry to the bridge might seem familiar to some of you. While they’re obviously not copies of the same statue, a very similar pair of brass cherubs is placed in Aziraphale’s bookshop to symbolize Aziraphale and Crowley. And looking at the screenshot above and the way they sleep or sulk with their backs turned on each other, they are most certainly not talking. The addition of more than one set of eyes is a lovely reference to biblically accurate angel memes though.

If we assume the traditional left-right positioning of the characters, Aziraphale is on the left and Crowley is on the right. Directly behind Aziraphale we can see a ship named “Good Traits”, but in reverse — kinda sorta confirmed by the animator Peter Anderson to be connected to the concept of the seven deadly sins on Twitter. Same that was mentioned recently by Neil in one of his asks.

The presence of Gabriel — a renegade Archangel wielding a broken cross — on the right, Crowley’s side, seems to match this theory. It could also support one of the possible interpretations of the very last bookshop shot in the S2 finale.

Out of all ten statues, Angel Carrying the Cross by Ercole Ferrata is considered inferior to the others on the bridge in that it appears to be a two-dimensional relief sculpture rather than an unbounded three-dimensional artwork, which seems to match Gabriel’s first impression as a character.

The inscription on the statue reads, “Dominion rests on his shoulders" — that is the weight of the cross that Christ was forced to carry through Jerusalem before being crucified. Even though Gabriel’s burden partially disappeared, the whole bridge and its environment is covered with crosses. It’s clear that we’re looking at a direct parallel of Via Crucis, the Way of Sorrows.

Towering over the Italian bridge, at the very top of Castel Sant’Angelo, is a statue of Archangel Michael, seen as the golden angel on the top left part of the trash pile. Aziraphale’s side, perhaps as his assistant, perhaps a rival? Legends of the Jews mention Michael as the chief of a band of angels who questioned God's decision to create man on Earth. The entire band of angels, except for Michael, was condemned to Fall — which could explain why they have such a good access to the Grapevine That Obviously Doesn’t Exist. And whatever’s going on between Michael and Dagon, perhaps.

In Roman Catholic teachings, Michael has four main roles or offices. Their first role is the leader of the Army of God and the leader of Heaven's forces in the final triumph over the powers of Hell. Viewed as the angelic model for the virtues of the spiritual warrior, their conflict with evil taken as the battle within. The second and third roles of Michael deal with death. Their second role is that of an angel of death, carrying the souls of Christians to Heaven. Michael descends at the hour of death and gives each soul the chance to redeem itself before passing; thus throwing the devil and his minions into consternation. In their third role, Michael weights souls on perfectly balanced scales they are often depicted with as their attribute. In their fourth role, Michael appears as the guardian of the Church. Might be the reason why they’re the closest to the building on top of the mountain.

It looks like Michael lost their sword though, just like Gabriel lost a part of the cross he was supposed to carry. The sword in question was supposed to be used to slay the dragon — Satan, the Adversary — according to John of Patmos and his Book of Revelations.

Speak of the devil: interestingly, there are two copies of an anonymous variation of the Angel of Light statue appearing twice on both sides of the bridge. Both the title as well as the statue itself seem like obvious references to one (former) angel literally called the Lightbringer, Lucifer. Perhaps one of them is representing his son, the Antichrist, instead, with the both of them helping out the Ineffables on two opposing — or perhaps only parallel — sides of the bridge?

The light carried by Lucifer appears to be green, a color used in the series as a visual representation of Hell, but on the intertextual level might also serve as a reference to F. Scott Fitzgerald’s classic novel The Great Gatsby and the green light at the end of the Daisy’s dock symbolizing the undying love, desperation, and longing for an unattainable dream. In the story, the color represents the limitations of power and money. Not surprisingly, the novel appears on Jim’s bookshelf and is part of the Good Omens book club — a list of personal recommendations from Neil Gaiman and Douglas Mackinnon for the fans to catch up on before the next series.

Last but not least, the possible connection to Libertas as the inspiration for the Statue of Liberty, shown multiple times in S2 as a foreshadowing of our character’s trip to America in S3. The related quote of Patrick Henry “Give me liberty or give me death” becomes even more relevant if we consider how the motto of the French Revolution was sometimes written as Liberté, égalité, fraternité ou la mort (“Liberty, equality, fraternity or death”). A lesson surely learnt by a certain angel back in 1793, when he was held prisoner for the last time before being forcefully taken Upstairs in the Final Fifteen.

The bridge and the castle

Okay, these are the basic observations. Now a brief historical overview and we will reach the fun bit in a jiffy.

Have you ever wondered about the meaning of this whole complex? It wasn’t always angelic, but named after a Roman noble dynasty. The Aelian bridge was built by the Emperor Hadrian in 134 AD to span River Tiber from the city center to his mausoleum. With time, the remains of more emperors were put to rest in there, until it was plundered and destroyed in a war. Then the remaining structure was transformed into a military fortress and a castle serving as the papal residence in times of war.

The Papal State also used Sant'Angelo as a prison; the Renaissance philosopher Giordano Bruno was imprisoned there for six years. Executions of the inmates were performed in the small inner courtyard, but they weren’t the only deaths in the area. On the other side of the bridge, in the adjoining Piazza del Ponte, under the watchful eyes of the stone likenesses of two saints, the public executions were held, and the heads of the criminals were brought onto the bridge and exposed to public view there.

As a prison, the former mausoleum is also the setting for the third act of Giacomo Puccini's 1900 opera Tosca. Long story short, the eponymous heroine convinces her lover to feign death so that they can flee together. Unfortunately, they are betrayed and the firing squad shoots at him with real bullets instead of blanks. Tosca believes in the quality of his acting performance rather than the truth, and when the realization hits her, she leaps to her death from the Castel’s ramparts.

After Nero’s bridge was destroyed, the travelers were forced to cross this bridge as the only direct route to the Vatican and St Peter’s Basilica, earning it the nickname “the bridge of Saint Peter”. That’s why in the 16th century Pope Clement VII erected statues of Saints Peter and Paul at the ends of the bridge, guarding it as they are supposed to protect the entry to Heaven.

In 1688 the bridge was embellished with ten angel statues, five on each side of the bridge, carrying Arma Christi, the Instruments of the Passion. The Good Omens characters represented by those statues in the opening sequence might be other instruments of Christ’s suffering as parts of the system that needs to be overthrown or replaced.

One angel appears particularly important in the context of both the bridge and the Second Coming — Saint Michael the Archangel.

Legend holds that the Archangel Michael appeared atop Hadrian’s mausoleum, sheathing their sword as a sign of the end of the plague of 590, thus lending the castle its present name. A less charitable yet more apt elaboration of the legend, given the militant disposition of this particular Archangel, was heard by the 15th-century traveler who saw an angel statue on the castle roof. He recounts that during a prolonged season of the plague, Pope Gregory I heard that the populace, even Christians, had begun revering a pagan idol at the church of Santa Agata in Suburra. A vision urged the Pope to lead a procession to the church. Upon arriving, the idol miraculously fell apart with a clap of thunder. Returning to St Peter's by the Aelian Bridge, the Pope had another vision of an angel atop the castle, wiping the blood from his sword on his mantle, and then sheathing it. While the Pope interpreted this as a sign that God was appeased, this did not prevent Gregory from destroying more sites of pagan worship in Rome. In honor of the vision and Michael, the bridge was renamed in their name.

What if the procession from the opening sequence was meant to imitate the procession led by the Pope from the legend? What if Aziraphale, now officially a Supreme Archangel, Commander of the Heavenly Host, is the one actually leading it, with Crowley finally at his side as his partner and second in command, just like it was proposed by him in the Final Fifteen?*

What if by some reason, maybe personal ambition, maybe just a tragic coincidence or situational necessity, there really was an impostor in Heaven, and Metatron — the so called Voice of God who seemingly doesn’t speak up for Herself since Job’s test — has been playing a winged version of the Wizard of Oz all along?

It would make just the perfect sense if not for one tiny detail. The procession we see on the bridge is actually led by Crowley, which doesn’t fit the parallel at all — unless it’s actually a proof of an ongoing body swap, as the mismatched names of the actors could also suggest?

The mountain of trash and the bookshop

The symbolic mountain of trash we can see Aziraphale and Crowley climb is a reference in itself. To an actual mount called Zion, believed to be the place where Yahweh, the God of Israel, dwells (Isaiah 8:18; Psalm 74:2), the place where God is king (Isaiah 24:23) and where God has installed king David on his throne (Psalm 2:6).

In a literal sense, it’s a hill in Jerusalem, although the sources refer to three different locations in different contexts — although for the purpose of this meta the Upper Eastern Hill (Temple Mount) makes the most sense. Its highest part became the site of Solomon's Temple. The same King Solomon the rituals in Freemasonry refer to. Masonic buildings, where lodges and their members meet, are sometimes called "temples" specifically as an allegoric reference to King Solomon's Temple, not actual places of worship. And Aziraphale’s bookshop is built around Solomon’s Magic Circle.

In a metaphysical sense, and especially in the context of the Christian New Testament, it is also believed to be a part of Heaven — the heavenly Jerusalem, God's Holy, eternal city. Christians are said to have “(…) come to Mount Zion and to the city of the living God, the heavenly Jerusalem, to an innumerable company of angels, to the general assembly and church of the firstborn who are registered in heaven” (Hebrews 12:22-23 cf. Revelation 14:1). Just like the procession were following in the opening sequence.

There’s been some speculation whether the lift on top of the mountain could symbolize Aziraphale’s bookshop, or, more specifically, the oculus in its centre. If you look closely at the enhanced screenshot, you can see that the dome isn’t made of glass and that it looks like a tower (a church’s bell tower, perhaps) more than a whole building.

And there is an actual doorway in there — not like the modern lift doors — opening up towards the source of that white, heavenly light. And what kind of enlightenment can you usually find up in the skies or heavens?

We’re welcomed to crack open the doors to the Heavenly Sanctuary — the Most Holy place, Sanctum Sanctorum, the Holy of Holies — to undraw the final curtain and finally stand eye to eye with God. Who knows, maybe even ask some questions or listen to some answers.

Or, at the very least, to meet one of Her forms known as Jesus Christ. Because that’s precisely where he serves as our (humanity’s) Mediator and the Holy Priest after his Ascension to Heaven. The structure at the top reminds of some temple architecture seen in Antiquity and Christianity.

The Catholic Church considers the Church tabernacle or its location (traditionally at the rear of the sanctuary) as the symbolic equivalent of the Holy of Holies, due to the storage of consecrated hosts in that vessel and their meaning as the Body of Christ. Tabernacle is commonly marked with a red light turned on and off depending on His presence or lack if it.

Looks like He’s already in the area, one way or another, keeping eye on some things.

Are we following a procession of believers happy to embrace their one and true Savior? Or are they actually protesters on their way to dethrone the authority and the system?

Guess we will have to wait and see.

[hastyprovocateur]

An analysis of Mizu×Akemi

Mizu gave up Akemi to Lord Daichi's men saying her path of revenge has no room for "love, friendship or weakness." She looked Ringo up and down at "weakness" after which he got offended and ended his apprenticeship for not helping Akemi. Mizu's eyes held guilt as Akemi cried out for her, hoping to be by Mizu's side and not go through with her marriage to the Shogun's son. Mizu was aware that if she fought Daichi's men, it meant more would be coming, which inadvertently meant more time having Akemi around, growing close to her... peering into her soul, breaking some walls... like she did at Madam Kaji's when she lay bare the fact that she's not the killer she pretends to be. Which was hammer meets nail as far as Mizu's singular purpose is concerned. It also means a lot that Mizu's appearance in itself wasn't scary to Akemi, or worthy of contempt despite being an aristocrat in an extremely xenophobic time. Racism should've been her second language but she doesn't exercise it. She only noted the distress evident in Mizu's behavior. Her rage- "Your face isn't even so scary... you're just... angry."

The thing about noticing is... you keep noticing more. Especially someone as observant and calculated as Akemi. Mizu was aware of this, hence why she tested Akemi's mettle in the brothel knowing she was the princess all along, trying to get under her skin instead of the other way around- "You thought I wouldn't recognize you?" casting back to the very intense first sight exchanged between the two on the bridge in ep 1. Mizu looked up with little interest, yet the stoic samurai's jaw dropped upon their prolonged eye contact and she tracked the palanquin long after Akemi had left her line of sight. It's implicit that love, friendship, and weakness represent Akemi, Taigen, and Ringo respectively. When Ringo questioned why Mizu let the princess go, she stated that Akemi's "better off" almost following up with "without me." She didn't deem her marriage to the Shogun as favourable, hell, she was unimpressed by the fact that Akemi was trying to save her doomed engagement with Taigen, telling her she's "begging to eat trash" despite being a "magical forest creature," who could have anything she wants. Mizu still considered it the lesser evil as opposed to spending time alone with her.

This isn't the case with Taigen, whom she is decidedly more comfortable with even though he threatens her, and calls her slurs. In part, Mizu believes that she deserves the hatred. She's more familiar with it. With her past where she was the demon as opposed to the future where she could be loved. Imagining true love is cruel for Mizu so she rejects it and embraces her darkness. It protects her from people actually seeing her as a person. As a whole. She can loathe herself in peace. She can be a vessel of revenge. She even promised Taigen the duel he wanted to up and kill her in exchange for his honour. Believing she won't have much to live for after concluding her revenge. Akemi is not the same. She never wished to hurt Mizu, going only so far as to try and drug her, until Mizu made her believe she killed her fiancé. Akemi was soon able to see Mizu's honour when she fought alone against the Thousand Clawed to protect Kaji's girls. Akemi was bent on helping, braving the trained men to protect Ringo and then to save Mizu's life from the man who almost choked her to death.

I will forever love the detail of her vulnerability in the face of death being mirrored by Mizu's own intimacy with Mikio in the flashback, letting her body serve love over rage for once. Engaging in sex was a huge step towards transparency on Mizu's part. Also, the fact that Akemi, in her little capacity, wielded her knife and pulled the clawed men away from unconscious Mizu, trying to keep their focus on her. Knowing she could very well die. She tells Ringo "I have been a captive my whole life. If I die, I'll die free." And then she goes upstairs saying "Mizu can't hold them off alone." Acting, most likely, out of a place of love. I was also warmed at the instances of Akemi trying to "drug" Mizu before she took on the bitter task of killing Kinuyo and then a few scenes later "slapping her awake" from a burning memory of betrayal. When her father's men came to fetch her, Akemi did not doubt that Mizu would fight for her after she did the same for her, hence her asking for her validation "I'm not going anywhere... right, Mizu?". And Mizu would've fought them for her, what's 3 more men after a whole army? But something prevented her.

To ruin Akemi's strong faith in her then... as opposed to later? When more of her ugliness had spilled before the princess? When both their hearts were more open to be scrutinized by the other? Madam Kaji and Swordfather Eiji are both the motherly and fatherly advice Mizu sorely needs. That fighting is an art, not independent of loving. Mizu cannot evade love if she is to take on a bigger war. She cannot do it alone and the story's purpose keeps circling back to the same lesson. Fighting from a place of hatred can never be stronger than fighting from a place of love. Akemi, evidently, was hoping to seek refuge under Mizu's protection. She is loyal, as she was to Taigen even though he abandoned her in pursuit of his lost honor. But Mizu's betrayal broke her heart. At the end of the Bunraku play in ep 5, Akemi confessed that she met the Onryo but that it was "incapable of love." That she searched his eyes for "love or mercy or good," only finding darkness. Both Mizu and Akemi weighed the merit of love in each other, Mizu pushed Akemi away because she felt love and Akemi avoided Mizu because she felt her lack of love.

Taigen, Mizu's former bully, did learn to respect her as a fighter and comrade. Representing their growing camaraderie, how they fight alongside. Mizu told him about Akemi getting married off to the Shogun's son in her duty to him as a friend. Upon learning that she abandoned Akemi, Taigen is also reasonably pissed. Mizu is on the precipice of the rebirth of her katana. Swordfather is justified in being wary of her guilt and darkness, refusing to aid in her pursuit but only guiding her by way of asking her to seek peace, to unify herself. Which she does by adding Chiaki's broken blade (which Taigen took), Akemi's knife, Eiji's tongs and Ringo's bell into the forge. She is ready to make amends by going to save Akemi, to encourage her to leave with Taigen, to be honorable as Ringo wants, and to find peace as Eiji wishes. And ofc to fuck the shit out of Fowler.

Akemi's repeated assertion of "we are not friends" (accompanied by the angy eyes) when Mizu comes back to save her is reflective of that heartbreak Akemi felt after relying on Mizu for her freedom before. Mizu tries to fix this by showing her a way to Taigen, trying to do right by her, asking "Do you still want your freedom or not." To give her what she wants even if she disapproves of Akemi's choice when she states "He's not a good guy, but he could be a great one." Seki too, gives Akemi a share of her dowry he saved to build a free life "With Taigen, or without." Akemi did end up rejecting the idyllic runaway Taigen was willing to embark on, it is hard to say Mizu would take it as an opportunity to make a move on Taigen after deeming him unsuitable for a partner. It would be against her nature to try to jump in as a lover just because Akemi's out of the picture. Not when she's so hot on the track of striking down Skeffington and Routley. It's pretty straightforward if you ask me.

Mizu is focused on going up for a bigger war. To seek the truth. To turn London upside down to kill all the four white demons that sabotaged her life since conception. This is parallel to Akemi deciding to stay and take control of the Shogunate through her powers over her decidedly meek husband. To take control of her life against all the odds that seek to box her up. I do not doubt that she will move to include Kaji and her girls in her retinue, subdue her father's machinations and rebuild Edo, and wrest power from whoever threatens her. Love doesn't seem to be on her cards. Kaji told her to choose a path of freedom through a man, not to choose a man to love like she'd been doing all along- "Stop running to and from men and decide what you want for your fucking self." Could this mean that Akemi is to never chase men romantically? Either way, Akemi follows through pretty quickly. Takoyoshi is a means to an end. Her sexual prowess was her first tool to entry into the Shogunate. Nothing more than an instrument of control as opposed to her initiating any sort of genuine romantic bond.

I fail to see as of now where Mizu and Taigen's paths collide romantically further since the latter clearly showed his intention to abandon all pursuits of greatness and to settle down. Which is vastly opposed to what Mizu and Akemi are bent on doing. I see a lot of potential there. If anything, Mizu would quite possibly need Akemi's refuge if she were to return to Japan in the wake of the London chaos. They are foils of each other. On the opposite ends of the spectrum with the same stories. Poor-rich, blue-red, water-vermillion, darkened-fair, streetsmart-booksmart, warrior-prostitute, bastard-pureblood, masculine-feminine, caged internally- caged externally, widow-new bride. Both deal with same vindictive self-serving parents. Mizu lost her stand-in mother in ep 5, and Akemi lost Seki at the end of ep 9. Mizu the crashing waves and Akemi the rising flames. Both women. Both so alike yet so different. Mizu's name is pretty straightforward, meaning "water." However Akemi's can be written as "bright sea" or "vermillion beauty" While vermillion is Akemi's colour scheme, "sea" is likely her connection to Mizu.

I find the sex in the show to be representative at best. Borne out of duty or manipulation rather than true love. Just because Akemi and Taigen had sex was no testament to the endurance of the depth of their relationship, same as Mizu and Mikio's wasn't. Akemi's alliances with men have always been influenced by the need to go with or against her father and never her independent choice. Same as Mizu merely agreeing to her mother's insistence on marrying and settling down. I liked the juxtaposition of Mizu being submissive during sex and Akemi being dominant, both with Taigen and Takoyoshi as well as in the brothel. Here, I would extend that this isn't their true nature. Both in marriage or the brothel, sex is labour meant to cater to men. As Seki said a woman can only have fixed paths- "Proper wife or improper whore." I can't imagine Mizu or Akemi being happy as either.

Akemi for the most of S1 only wanted to be loved but was being forced to use her lovemaking skills to steer men into agreeing with her. Playing the improper whore. I imagine that in a safer intimate relationship, she would enjoy being on the bottom, to be protected and pleasured instead of always being the pleasurer. Mizu on the other hand, was shown to deliberately downplay her physical agencies during her marriage, to pretend to not know knife throwing or what she wants during sex, thus settling for whatever her husband had to give lest he feel inferior. I would imagine she'd prefer to be loved in all her proactive masculinity, to not be forced to submit. To not be forced to be the proper wife.

Mizu has repeatedly been shown to dominate people unthinkingly, her safety lies in her being on top and knowing what she's getting into. We saw a glimpse of that in the brothel with Akemi under Mizu where she ordered the princess to "get down." The colours from their respective sex scenes blended into one, inky blue on Mizu's end, warm golden on Akemi's. Mizu immediately doses the princess on pursuing worthless men and then Akemi soon willingly submitting to Mizu's protection while thinking of her to be a man. They both tried doing the rightful wife thing, both tried to save their marriages with their husbands as best they could, to be the ideal women even after both men bailed on them. But now they are liberated. Akemi is free from her father and on the path to rule Edo, Mizu is on her own with Fowler, to pursue her revenge in London. Both are relentless in their pursuits. Akemi's "No one refuses me" and Mizu's "We're going to the 9th level" is one and the same. Unstoppable force meets immovable object. Only time will tell. I rest my case.

[badass-queer-couples-battle]

Sword gays showdown, round 1, bracket two

*Camilla fanart by @friendamedes, used with permission

Propaganda:

For Hua Cheng:

King of ghosts and ruler of Ghost City. So good at sword he beat 33 gods in duels. Canonically gay and in love with the former prince, current exiled god of trash Xie Lian. His sword is sentient and also his own eye. Its name is E-Ming and if it ever cut you, it can reopen the wound any time. It's really cute despite its reputation, wants to be pet by Xie Lian like a little kitty.

He's got a sword that is literally a part of him. He made it from his own eye. It's sentient and behaves like a puppy and I just really love E-Ming

Spoiler but he has a very cool saber thats (kinda) alive and made out of his own eye? Does that count?

For Camilla:

she prefers dual-wielding two short blades but can fight with pretty much anything. she's ambidextrous she's autistic she's even sex-repulsed ace. she sighs longingly when reunited with her weapons. she's from planet academia and dresses like an off-duty librarian. literally one of the most iconic moments of the entire series is when she gets challenged to a duel and absolutely wipes the floor with her opponent even though she doesn't even like rapiers that much. 'swords don't lie.' 

OK I’m sure you’re getting just about every character from The Locked Tomb but Cam is my favorite. She's a nerd AND a jock. She is in this deeply intense and loving and unhealthily codependent soulbond partnership with her best friend second cousin and prince. She is smart and deadpan snarky and fights like a grease fire and I have never been able to get that line out of my head.

[sleepykye]

Becareful next time, idiot..!

Featuring : Muichiro, shinobu, tangiro, rui

The ship : muichiro x reader

You were fighting lower moon 5, together with tangiro . The both of you were struggling while waiting for backup to arrive. Your katana was broken, along with tangiro's one aswell. But he had still somehow managed to cut the string with a broken katana, you envied him. He had almost cut off the demon's head too. It was a pity that rui was smart enough and used his own string to cut it off before he did.

You were ashamed, really, just because of muichiro talking down on you during training, you ran away in the midst of it. He is probably going to fire you when you finally get the fight over with. Or your just going to die here without ever seeing him and apolosing to him for running off like that. And you were unlucky enough to run off to a mountain which lurks uppermoon 5 and other demons.

Your injuries were not as bad as Tangiro's but still, your strength and skills weren't as close as to tangiro's skills. But no way were you giving up, you wanted to prove to muichiro that your skills were good.

The both of you was on the verge of death, trapped in a cage of strings that was shrinking very fast. Your life flashed before your eyes as you laid on the ground, helplessly. But at the very last second, Muichiro came and slashed the cage of strings containing both you and tangiro. " you dare to hurt my tsugko, you trash ? " muichiro spoke angrily, if you weren't half conscious right now, you could tell that his brows were furrowed and it looked like his veins were about to pop on his hand from wielding his sword with too much strength.

" And did I just hear you insult her ? Nobody else can insult her but me " he said ferociously before cutting off the demon's head single handedly. He even chopped the remaining body and the head to small pieces, almost like stripped fish sticks.

Tangiro was unconscious and didn't see what happened thankfully, or else he will make a fuss about it. 《 Cuz hes kind ykyk 》

Muichiro didn't even wait a second before picking you up and didn't even bother to wait for the kakushi to come and treat you, nor even help to eliminate the remaining demons. He carried you bridal style and rushed to the butterfly mansion to treat you.

Shinobu, upon seeing this, told him off saying that he doesn't even try to pretend he cares about others and that he's biased towards you. Muichiro just waved her off saying that she can handle it since she's a doctor and continued to rush to the butterfly mansion.

You were already losing conscious along the journey before you heard him say " stay with me, please ! Your the only thing I have left. Don't leave me too...." before moving at a faster pace. Dam were you surprised, hearing that from him was rare. Especially since all he threw at you were insults one after another. But you lost consciousness before he could say another word.

And when you woke up again, you could see muichiro beside your bed. When he saw that your eyes opened, he sighed and was thankful you were alive. You tried to mutter a " I'm sorry" but before you could, you got flicked in the head before you heard him say " becareful next time, idiot..! " with tears in his eyes.

He even said " I'll be less harsh towards you in training. Please don't take the insults I said to heart. " while averting your gaze. His cheeks also had a slight tint of red. You were thankful as it looked like your friendship with your master has leveled up.

Poor tangiro though...he freaked out when he saw that you weren't with him anymore when he came back to conscious and was worried sick wondering if you got eaten by the demon.

Okay, I realised I made some grammar and spelling mistakes on accident ! I'll edit it and fix it if I find any 😣

[evenmorefatallyobsessed]

Prof. Rose AU Concept

To be clear this isn't the only Au/ comic I'll put the model in but it is the one that comes to mind for me most often.

All of team RWBY are born into the previous generation.

Ruby would've never thought of herself as the teaching type of Huntress and yet here she was in Beacon showing students how to Huntress with the best of them.

So yeah she was a bit late to the classes she taught, and liked to dress... Um, a bit messily BUT THAT WAS HER METHOD GOSH DANGIT!

Besides she was a adult, and a awesome one at that. Heck Gynda barely ever scolded her... Anymore.

Today was no different either as she walked to the auditorium. Near the launch pad, watching as new students came flocking out looking around with stars in their eyes and hope in their hearts.

She remembered being like that back then... Okay, maybe not like that one blonde blowing chunks into the garbage can but still.

A bunch of Weiss's Dust packed, she was Enough reminiscing she had stuff to do like being a awesome partner, moving her friend's Dust to their room. Now she didn't need to pay extra for them to navigate Beacon and, and, ACHOO!!!

'Boom!'

What Was This Place Cursed!? Really? the same spot she blew up I on her first day her all those years ago!

At least she didn't have a fuming Weiss to deal with this time again... Right now.

She sat there sulking remembering back then to. That'd nearly broken her back in the day. But she knew better now, nobody would come to help he-

"You okay?" She blinked, looking up and meeting gazes with a boy.

"Aren't you the guy who blew chunks in the trash?" And like that she'd instantly insulted one of her students and a nice cute one too... Wait, cute?

"Hey I have motion sickness! It's a common problem that a lot of people have." They walked through the school, him quick to follow her lead. The boys name was Jaune, obviously he was a first year.

And he wielded a classic bastard sword with a mecha-shifting sheath/ shield. Nothing fancy but the metal was like freakishly durable and seemed immune to rust! She'd admit to drooling over the thought of what she could make with a alloy like that.

Oh And Jaune Was A Arc!

A Actual Arc! To most people that wouldn't mean much, heck to hear even just a few years ago it wouldn't mean much. But now that she and her team were Part of Ozpins super secret decret circle she knew better.

Jaune came from a long line of heroes, heroes who fought against Salem and in just about every war you could look up. Heck one of the two people exemplified on the statue were a Arc!

Yep Jaune was gonne do great, awesome things, she just had a gut feeling about these sorta things. He even got that she was older then him! And with her baby face that was saying something!

Though admittedly he did only think she was a senior, but still. Jaune was hitting every box to being her favorite student this year. She was so excited she was gushing about her new friend to Glynda and the rest of the staff that night.

Still if Jaune was gonna be her new favorite student she wanted to know everything about him she could. Some research was in order... And he cheated his way into Beacon...

Cool, and here she was expecting worse like him being a former terrorist or bandit like Blake or her uncle Qrow. He just never went to combat school.

That wasn't so bad, he probably had the basics down and could he taught the rest. Yep, everything would be A-Okay!

-0-0-0-

EVERYTHING WAS NOT A-OKAY!!! Heck It wasn't even C-Okay! It was F-Bad! Real Bad! Jaune Didn't Have Aura! Nope Nadda! HOW!?

What Kinda Parents Didn't Unlock Thier Kids Auras When They Wanted To Fight Grimm!

Thank God Pyrrha There... Touching his chest, unlocking his aura... One of the most intimate acts you could share with another person...

Huh? She, she didn't like that... At all. Though there were some hiccups Jaune and his team managed to pass, with Jaune leading it... Yeah she was getting flashbacks to her first year.

The party started and his team was the center of attention or to be more accurate Pyrrha and very very much not normal knees. Good thing Jaune seemed to catch on quick cuz he quickly took the lead and acted like a buffer between her adoring fans. And now Pyrrha was blushing as she looked to him.

Did she like him... No.

No no no no NO!

Okay, so maybe she had a few drinks, but she was a adult so it was fine... Besides the drinks just made Jaune look yummiest after all... Yummier?

She dragged him off for super secret team leaders advice that none of the other leaders needed. Why would they?

Nope Jaune was her friend and student, which meant she won, Pyrrha was just his partner.

So they talked, about how imitation went, about his family (And geez what a family) and what he wanted to be... Like her? Her?

"Yeah, I looked some videos up and figured out you were some kinda hero Craterfac-, I mean Ms. Rose.

Nope! She did not like that! And refused to let it stand. And when he dared to refuse her refusal she decided force was needed and tackled him down.

Pinning down her new friend/ student she threatened him to start calling her Ruby again like all her friends only to freeze up. Becaus something was pushing up against her. Something big and hard, and in Jaune's pants... Oh!

And like that he was off, rushing away with a absolutely tomato colored face. And she was left there, everything clicking in her head and tingling in her body... Oh, so she had a crush on Jaune...

And didn't that present a problem, Ruby Awesome Rose had butt tons of experience in a lot of stuff.

Fighting Grimm, Weapon Repair, Baking... But romance was very much not her field. And Weiss and Yang were nowhere in sight to ask for advice. Well, at least there was once source of study she had available on hand.

Thank Oum for Blake and her books, she was sure they'd make Great references material...

And great they did, especially with a drink or two... Yep Jaune could definitely be like these studs and... Heheh and do fun stuff to her.

Actually 'Hic' why did she never think about making babies? She was a grown woman, and Jaune she could chisel into a super hunky knight.

Yeah, the more she thought of it the better that idea got. And drinks made the plan all the sexier. utterly sloshed, she worked another orgasm off of watching a teacher student porno, and found herself quite annoyed.

Why was she using this? There was a cute dork who just passed Initiation AKA was totally and utterly legal.

Her mind made up she whipped out her Scroll and made her way down go JNPR's room. Knocking on it, waiting for someone to answer, for 'Him' to answer, the door opening her prize came half confused as and all flustered as he readied to speak. But she didn't let him, after all she wanted a taste really bad...

Lips smacking she pulled back and found him landing flat on him ass face red as a tomato and pitching a new tent.

Her drunk mind worked a lightbulb and she smiled. .

That was just the sorta reaction she wanted, she would pressed on, already getting ready to pull down her top but she could hear the familiar sound of Glynda's heels as she made her way there.

-0-0-0-

Jaune was flustered, not sure how he was gonna face Prof. Rose, yep, Professor, Ruby as it turned out wasn't just some quirky fourth year student. Nope, his dumb butt went and made buddies with his teacher... He could already hear the bullies cracking their knuckles. That team CRDL group had been bugging him ever since, but somehow that wasn’t even the worst of it. Nope, the worst was Ruby herself, well… What she did while drunk…

 His cheeks pinked, still vaguely recalling the taste of strawberries… He really needed to clear the air, he knew asses who tried to take advantage of his sisters when they were drunk and he had no intention of falling in with that lot.

All he could do was try to clear the air with miss Rose and hope she would be understanding, she might’ve kissed him but he did lean into it instead of rejecting it. So even if others would argue it he felt guilty… Still he was in his first class here and she was gonna teach it, fingers crossed she wouldn’t hate his… His. Sexy… Wha!? No he meant what was she wearing!?

-0-0-0-

One awesome thing about having a Drunkle Qrow was that Ruby Rose was a expert drinker, highly adapted and incredibly quick to bounce back. AKA no hang overs and a crystal clear memory… And oh did she make great memories last night!

Hehe, he tasted like honey, and his face got all red, she bit her lip thinking about it, okay so yep Ruby Rose had it bad. And usually she might hesitate, but Drunk Ruby had nailed the assist! And now Ruby knew Jaune was interested and that she wanted it!

Oh she panicked at first, but then looked up the rule book and yeppers it was all cool and legal! Heck her dating Jaune wasn’t nearly as bad as half the stuff her team got into back when they were students!

Maybe when she was a freshman she might’ve panicked, have second guessed herself… But that was then, she’d gone through to much, to many difficult experiences to be thwarted by romance… Mt. Glenn… Dr. Merlot and Salem’s sinister circle and the Hunters disappearing in Mistral. Ruby Rose had faced death and danger on scales most hunters would never know.

And from them she’d learned above all else the value in being decisive, and Ruby Decisive Rose had a new goal! And that goal was a blonde young knight husbando! Mark her words! Ruby Rose was Gonna get herself a man! And Jaune Arc didn’t stand a chance!

She would use all the knowledge and know how of Blake’s many smutty books, and years observing her big sis flirting to her full advantage! She was no longer a member of the itty bitty boobie club dangit, she had Ruboobies to match her Bubooty! And she was gonna use it to it’s full effect!

And Ozpin was all for her making some Silver Eyed Babies! Which meant Jaune Arc was as good as her’s! Ruby Rose had it going on and every student in the class had their eyes on her in her sexy dress including Jaune!

Operation Lancaster Start!

[deldotpng]

⊹ Kafka lore dump ⊹

Basic info Name: Kafka Chen Gender: female Age: 22 Height: 170cm Affiliation: Cleaners Occupation: Cleaner

Personality

 Kafka is quite phlegmatic, good at keeping her head cool and thinking on her feet. You can call her a workaholic: she treats her work conscientiously and expects the same from other janitors, having a strong dislike for irresponsibility. She’s more street smart rather than book smart.

 Despite appearing to be a complete introvert, Kafka likes being around other people, even though she listens more than she speaks. She is empathetic enough and cares about the well-being of her colleagues, but rarely expresses it (doesn't feel the need to let them know). 

 The harsh past she went through has damaged Kafka’s mental health and led to her developing sadistic tendencies, which, however, show up quite rarely. It usually gets the better of Kafka when she is in the middle of a tough battle and is all fired up; you can catch a glimpse of a grin on her face. Kafka isn't really aware that she enjoys the chaos of violence, thinking the excitement she feels simply comes from a natural rush of adrenaline, which is only half true.   She has anger outbursts from time to time but tries to repress them.

Is not a tactile person, she only allows physical touch from her partner and few close friends (+ kid janitors).

 Kafka likes reliable, self-sufficient individuals, who respect other people's boundaries and don't jump into conclusions. She likes people with a good sense of humor (very bad at making jokes herself).

tw: drug use and s/h mention ahead

Background

 Kafka doesn’t remember the faces of her biological parents. She lived on the streets her entire life until she joined the Cleaners. She was affiliated with one of many teen gangs who didn't have a home and earned a living by getting hired for shady tasks of all kinds (info collecting, raiding, blackmailing, drug dealing etc). 

 Kafka grew up as a very closeted person, cautious and distrustful. She had to protect herself solely with her fists.

 She had a long-term addiction to drugs, which subsequently led to an overdose. She was admitted to the hospital, and during her stay she took a liking to the doctor who looked after her. They both became close enough for Kafka to open up a little, making a genuine human connection for the first time in her life. So when Kafka later learned that the woman was brutally killed by a trash beast that burst into town, she was completely devastated by the loss of who she saw as her parental figure. After being discharged from the hospital Kafka stole a tuning fork that once belonged to the doctor to have something to remember her by.

 The item became her jinki when Kafka was cornered by a group of trash beasts. It released its power which she used to crush the monsters into pieces. After learning to wield her newly obtained weapon, she decided to patrol through her hometown and clean out any threats. Soon, she was noticed and approached by the Cleaners who made Kafka an offer to join their forces, which she accepted right away.

Jinki

 Kafka's jinki (a.k.a. "Hammerhead") is a medical tuning fork. Its awakened form is a giant sledgehammer equipped with chains. Once transformed, the inscription “128Hz” engraved on it changes to “777Hz”.

 Beside the obvious way of using the hammer (i.e. shattering things into pieces), it is also used to damage the subject from within/disorient it by sending very strong mechanical waves (manipulation of vibrations). 

 If Kafka has to fight a human and not a trash beast, she usually tries to use her weapon carefully, in mind to only reach her opponent indirectly, concerned that she might get carried away with the battle and simply murder her enemy with the impact of her blows.

Relationships

 Kafka is married to her colleague Arak Chen (@dyfavorable's oc) whom she was close friends with before they started dating. They often work as a duo. 

Kafka looks up to Semiu, who is her mentor but also a close friend. They like to gossip and discuss novels together in their free time.

 Has a poor relationship with the Hell Guards, because she used to be the cause of their headache along with the other street kids. Kafka tries to avoid Kyoko whenever she appears at Cleaners' doors.

 Kafka visits Dr. Stilza quite often, since Alice is a former colleague of her late parental figure. Kafka is on good terms with Stilza's grandchildren as well. According to August he and Kafka are practically best friends (not true).

Trivia

had a history of resorting to self-harm, which continued until she was in a better environment and found a purpose in life. Has scars on her upper arms and forearms.

very strong physically, which is required to operate such a massive weapon as hers;

in her younger years she had very long hair, which she cut off in a meltdown one day when a man was harassing her and patted her hair. For this reason, she doesn't like to have her hair touched;

Kafka has a very keen ear;

she loves extra sour candies and lollipops;

she has a low voice and a very pretty laugh;

Kafka is very shy in relationships, any romantic gestures make her flustered and anxious;

Rudo confused her with a guy when he met her for the first time.

[viktorviolettaenterprises]

Tactical Machine Pistol + Pose Pack

DOWNLOAD

Greetings, Customer! In this beautiful day before Christmas I'd like to Presenting you some Good Old Machine Pistol that you folks might Recognized it From Resident Evil 4!! Yay! this also Include The Pose Pack For these Guns :D Yay You Guys Gonna Love this @melbrewer367, @helenofsimblr @bdangkingfish & @igglemouse @exzentra-reblog

Steyr TMP

The Steyr TMP (Taktische Maschinenpistole/Tactical Machine Pistol) is a 9×19mm Parabellum caliber machine pistol manufactured by Steyr Mannlicher of Austria. The magazines come in 15 or 30 round detachable box types. A suppressor can also be fitted. Though originally intended to be used without a shoulder stock, an optional fixed stock was made available later.

Picture this: it's compact, it's sleek, and it's made by Steyr Mannlicher – those Austrians sure know how to craft some serious firepower. The mags? You've got options, my friend – choose between the 15-round or the 30-round detachable box types. More bullets, more fun, right?

Now, here's the cool part – you can throw a suppressor on this bad boy. Yeah, you heard me right. Stealth mode engaged! Take out the trash without waking up the whole neighborhood.

And get this, it was originally meant to be a hip-firing, no-shoulder-stock-needed kind of deal. But hey, if you're feeling fancy, they later dropped an optional fixed stock. So, whether you're going for the "I'm a secret agent" look or just want a compact powerhouse, the Steyr TMP has your back.

In summary, it's Austrian, it's 9mm, it's got optional Rambo vibes with that stock, and it's perfect for when you need to make a statement – quietly or not, your choice!

Steyr SPP

The Steyr SPP (Special Purpose Pistol) is a semi-automatic variant of the TMP intended for civilian Markets. The TMP's barrel and barrel jacket lengths were increased slightly so there is a greater length of protruding jacket and barrel. The forward tactical pistol grip was also removed. It is large for a pistol and is constructed mainly from Polyamide 66. Now, they didn't just slap on an "SPP" and call it a day. The SPP got a bit of a makeover. They tweaked the barrel and barrel jacket, making them a bit longer for that extra oomph. It's all about that protruding jacket and barrel, giving it a distinctive look. So, whether you're in the market for a semi-auto powerhouse or just want to feel like you're wielding the future of pistols, the Steyr SPP is your go-to. It's Austrian, it's purposeful, and it's packing some Polyamide 66 coolness. What more could you ask for in a Special Purpose Pistol?

Brügger & Thomet MP9

in 2001, Steyr decided to pass the torch, or in this case, the design, to none other than Brügger & Thomet. It's like a handoff in the world of guns – a bit like passing the baton in a relay race, but with more firepower.

So, Steyr handed over the blueprints, and Brügger & Thomet took the reins, turning that design into what we now know as the Brügger & Thomet MP9. It's like the TMP's legacy lives on, but with a Swiss twist.

Now, the MP9 isn't your average Joe submachine gun – it's got some serious selective-fire mojo going on. You can choose your flavor of firepower with 15, 20, 25, or 30 round transparent polymer magazines. It's like a buffet of bullets.

Safety first, right? The MP9 takes that seriously with not one, not two, but three safeties. You've got an ambidextrous safety/fire mode selector switch button for manual safety, a trigger safety, and a drop safety. They've basically built a fortress of safety around this thing.

And here's the kicker – it's the lovechild of the Steyr TMP. Brügger & Thomet took that TMP design, shook things up a bit, and voila, the MP9 was born. They made it even cooler with a folding stock that tucks away to the right, an integrated Picatinny rail for all your accessory needs, and a snazzy new trigger safety. Evolution at its finest, right?

So, whether you're into Swiss precision, sleek designs, or just want a submachine gun that's as safe as a bank vault, the MP9 is here to deliver the goods – with a little help from its TMP roots.

Brügger & Thomet TP9

So, check this out: the TP9, a semi-auto civilian version of the MP9, decided to play by the rules to cozy up with US firearm import laws. They did a little swap dance – out with the forward grip, in with a snazzy underbarrel MIL-STD-1913 Picatinny Rail, right in front of the trigger guard. It's like the gun got a tactical makeover to fit in.

Imagine it's the rebel cousin – looks like the Steyr SPP but with a twist. No more forward grip, just a slick rail. Gotta hand it to them for adapting and keeping it stylish. Guns with a touch of strategy, right?

Now The Best Part.. The Pose Pack!!! well It Contain 10 Poses 5 For Males And 5 Males 3 of them inspired from Resident Evil Thingy and Stockless Variants are Compactible with regular Pistols poses that scattered around tumblrs.. like @pandorassims4cc or @alunedesires (deactivated) and Well It also Included For Left Hand in Case You guys need dual Wield Weapons

Thank You @ts4-poses @littyfinds @cctreasuretrove @exzentra-reblog@sparkiekongreblogsstuff

[kimmyungcanjunot]

Obviously I could talk for 6 years straight about the main characters of Castaway Diva and how amazing they are both as parts of the story and as rounded individuals in their own rights. How Mokha has wielded her kindness as strength her whole life and how it disarms people who are used to selfishness in this sometimes dark world, how Kiho is unwavering and resolute even when he looks three seconds away from bursting into tears, how Chaeho always claims to be selfish but is someone who works endlessly for others and notices the small things many overlook which makes him both a great journalist and an incredible big brother. We could talk about how just and honourable Lee Uk is even though he is the first to break the law when the law disagrees with what is just and honourable like a real life superhero. How Jaekyung has every reason to give up many times but is fuelled by a need to believe that things are good and can be good so she keeps going even if it means she has to make them good herself. How Ranjoo is beaten pillar to post by an industry that rips people to shreds but still loves it and wants to see it change into something good again even if that means more and more self-sacrifice. All of these go without saying.

But you know a character I loved? Morae. From an Eastern perspective no doubt she is a disrespectful, rude, annoying, selfish little brat and yes… she is all those things. But at the same time the show never moves away from reminding us that Ranjoo treated her like trash. Unlike Mokha and Yonggwan, she wasn’t Ranjoo’s choice, and Ranjoo punished her for that. In any Western media this rebellion would be romanticised, she’d be shown as another person to cheer for, while in traditional Eastern she would be villainised in every way. Many Kdramas have characters like Morae that never get a happy ending and that’s seen as right because she disrespected her seniors which is an offence comparable to murder. But Castaway Diva does not do that and blends both perspectives into a beautifully well-rounded character. This is someone who from day one was told she was second best, had everything she tried to do picked at, and she couldn’t do anything because Ranjoo was her senior. When she became bigger than her senior she got mean, and instead of choosing kindness and forgiveness in the face of hate like Mokha does, she chose pettiness and rudeness, which could have easily made her the token bad guy. Instead the show touches on the loneliness of having someone you admire seem to hate you, how she acts selfish because no one is ever on her side not even Seojun and Yonggwan sometimes, and how hard it is for her to see her selfish actions might be letting down her fans, a group of people she clearly adores. In the end she swallows her pride and asks for help, and never rubs it in Ranjoo’s face when she accepts the offer for royalties, because she knows that while she and her senior can never be friends they can be successful if they work together. And she is - she gets her number one and reconnects with Ranjoo on social media as her way of saying ‘I was ashamed before but now we are in this together, Sunbae.’

I love her, I love how she was written, I love how she was acted out with the varying shades of stink eye and ‘is about to start crying’, I love how she was absolutely a real and loveable pain in the butt and not a caricature like she could so easily have been.

Castaway Diva… you did great. 5 stars.

[blues824]

Hi! Could you please write my request about GN!Mc as Beacrox Molan from trash of the count's family?

Fandom: Twisted Wonderland

Have a good day♡

This guy is fine. Looked at his Wiki page and I think I have a few characters I think this could work with: the chefs of Twisted Wonderland, plus Lilia.

Trey Clover

You both can often be found in the kitchen making food for Heartslabyul. The only difference than normal is that the kitchen is sparkling because of your dislike for messes and germs. Trey doesn’t really care though. Everyone had their pet peeves, after all.

As you both are baking something for the upcoming Unbirthday Party, Trey sneaks behind you and wraps his arms around your torso, leaving you a bit flustered. You’ve never been the best at receiving affection, so he always liked to tease you and make you freeze in place. 

He remembers when his Housewarden overblotted, and you used a sword to fight. The skill that you wielded it with was very impressive, and he had no idea that you were a swordsperson at all. You later told him that you were a former assassin, so now he knows that Ace and Deuce are in for it if they ever stir up trouble again.

Ruggie Bucchi

Again, you both are often making food for Leona. For once, the Savanaclaw dorm rooms are spotless because of your insistence. The kitchen was especially clean, and you were still wearing gloves. Ruggie would never tell you that he hated the gloves because now he couldn’t feel your bare hands petting his ears.

Speaking of, that’s one of the ways where you show affection towards him. However, he shows his affection for you by acting like a koala in private. He clings to you as he rants about how hard his day was with serving Leona, and you are very flustered.

When Leona overblotted, Ruggie watched as you used a sword that you brought with you to fight. You had great technique from what he had seen, and he was surprised that you moved so expertly. After explaining that you were a former-assassin, he thought you were even cooler.

Jade Leech

You became a chef for the Lounge for money (since Crowley didn’t give us shit to work with), and you became close with a certain eel. Jade noticed that the kitchen was sparkling clean because of your germaphobia, which got the Lounge good reviews because it was so tidy. 

He most definitely teased you a lot by pressing kisses on your cheeks and temples whenever he grabbed the food to go and give it to the customers. He reveled in seeing you become flustered, and he tried to do it very often.

When Azul overblotted, you were swimming through the water at very quick speeds. You even had a sword that you carried with you, which gave him a clue as to what was your former occupation. The technique you used with the blade was that of a professional, so he wasn’t surprised when you told him you were an ex-assassin.

Jamil Viper

He was glad to know that you were willing to assist him in the kitchen, but what he didn’t expect was your insistence on taking over and cleaning the room from top to bottom. You still kept gloves on as well, which he found unusual. Nonetheless, you did take away a large piece of the burden placed on the Vice Housewarden, so he was grateful for you.

When he found out that you got flustered with affection, he started placing lingering touches. If you were in the way, he would do that thing where he either places his fingers through your belt loops and pulls you away, or places his hands on your hips and moves you to the side.

Jamil found out about your swordsmanship when he overblotted and attacked you. You moved with such swiftness and agility that he had a hard time striking. In the infirmary was where you told him about how you used to be an assassin for your former employer. He honestly wasn’t very surprised, if he was being honest.

Lilia Vanrouge

You took over cooking for Diasomnia since Lilia kind of sucked at making edible food. The entire dorm worshiped you as a saving grace (which you were). The bat fae tried to help you, but you didn’t give him the time of day and ushered him out of ‘your kitchen’.

Don’t get me started on when he found out you were easily flustered by affection. He pulled all the stops: gifts, PDA, compliments, etc. You always froze as you tried to process what was going on, and he always had a little bit of a giggle because of it. You were just so adorable.

He found out about your ability to use a sword during all of the overblots. The technique and footwork you used was very admirable, better than most soldiers that were in Lilia’s army. You told him after that you used to be an assassin, and everything clicked into place. How interesting!

[silvergolddraco28]

LMK x Hazbin Hotel- part 11- Settling and Planning

()()()()

“AND WE’RE-“ Lucifer paused glancing at the snoozing fawn toddler clearing his throat. “And~ we’re~ back~!” He grinned. ‘Wonderful save… not! I nearly woke the baby!’

Wukong blinked again from the bright light of the teleport. “Looks like we will have to adjust this place to be cub-proof,” Wukong mumbled mostly to himself.

"Oh for sure!" Lucifer muttered in agreement, staring intently at the eyesore of a bar already thinking of what dangers a young toddler would get into just looking at all the bottles and the uneven edges. "Now that has to go for starters." The demon king pointed, which earnt a far cry from a certain albino arachnoid.

"WHAT?! NO! NO! NO! WE NEED THE BAR! I NEED THE BAR! HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO COPE?!" Angel cried from the sofa, attention finally setting on the group.

"By reading a book or something?" Lucifer cringed. Clearly noting this sinner's methods of salvation did not align with the hotel's morals. There was still much work to be done.

"N-Now let's....calm down Angel okay?" Charlie attempted to soothe stepping in. "Nothing's been set in stone just yet but we have a situa-"

"IS THAT A FUCKING BABY?!" Angel screamed looking past Charlie towards the fawn in Wukongs arms.

“Any more shouting and I will cast a three-hour muting spell. Do not wake the baby.” Wukong calmly intoned. “Lucifer, may I have my staff back?” Wukong asked with a slight smirk on his lips.

"Who's fucking baby is that?!" Angel continued, though his tone had noticeably reduced.

"No swearing in front of the fucking kid!" Lucifer countered, earning a pointed look from the room.

"A baby? There's a baby?! Someone gave birth?" Nifty's chipper tone seemed to come from within the floorboards.

"Angel..." Charlie stressed before the spider in question groaned, rolling his eyes as he stood.

"This is way too fu-”

“You finished that word and I will personally put a bar of soap in your mouth!” Wukong interrupted with a small glare before he placed a pair of earmuffs over the fawn’s ears.

“-fudging much. I need a drink." He grumbled with a small shiver at the very parent-like threat Wukong had promised while making his way towards the bar only to be halted in his steps by an eerily enthusiastic Husk. "Don't even try it. I need this." Angel stressed.

The king's attention went back to Wukong with a growing grin at seeing the earmuffs knowing it was probably a good call for the rest of the night until it could properly be addressed with new ground rules tuning out the hushed whispers between Angel and Husk. "Sure! Check this little baby out!" Holding up the crafted duckling, with the staff, much more miniature around its neck. "I made it travel sized! Isn't it just precious~?!" He cooed before extracting the weapon with ease. A golden light dusted the staff as Charlie watched in awe as it grew to a comfortable size now in the dapper man's grasp. "Honestly I thought you were kidding earlier but holy moly! It's pretty light actually!" Lucifer noted spinning the staff much like his own cane in his fingers.

"That's… probably because you can wield it dad…" Charlie noted recalling Wukong’s predictions on who would be able to lift the weapon.

Wukong gave a nearly predatory grin. “Looks like i got someone to help whip to shape after all!” Wukong chirped. “That goes double both of you, Charlie and Husk.” Wukong stated taking the staff out of Lucifer’s hand, shrinking it down to slip it on his left ear like an earring with a slim golden chain of energy on the two ends holding it in place from behind.

"Sounds like a lotta of manual work..." Lucifer narrowed his eyes but he wouldn’t pass up the chance to connect with his little girl on something they could both do. "I love it! Just what this hotel needs! Hard working and trained staff! Except you sweetie, lettou old man take care of any trash that would dare harm you." The demon cooed towards his offspring. "Throw in these guys too. Hell they could surely use it! Practically skin and bone. No muscle. What good will that do against an attack?" Lucifer tutted towards the of the group. "After all… We have a wittle baby to defend.- And the hotel-...of course."

"Training...?" Charlie murmured before her eyes grew wide with sparkles. "You'd train me? Eeee!!! That sounds super incredible! Does that mean I'll be able to lift the staff too?!" She questioned the celestial with excitement.

With Husk distracted by Wukong's statement, Angel used the opportunity to slip free, making a beeline towards the bar. "Training? Is that really necessary? I ain't planning on jumping into any deals if that's your worry." The feline expressed

“You’ve regained strength you’ve been unable to tap into for some time. You can easily end up breaking glass just as easily as breaking bone. Are you willing to harm someone unintentionally to keep up your pride?” Wukong asked Husk while resting the sleeping fawn on his hip, looking more like a mother dressing down their eldest son while taking care of their youngest.

"Oooo~ he's got ya there Mr. Big Dick!~" Angel crassly called downing a drink from the bar.

Husk turned with a growl, wings outstretched with building rage but in an instant he retracted. Stumbling as he did so. The simple action felt different. He could feel the sheer difference in strength. Wukong's words were clear. "...No." He sighed, correcting himself. Even he had seen enough to know that was never the case. Nor would he argue with the six foot celestial who defeated Alastor either. "It ain't worth it." The feline admitted. "I'll do the training, I guess."

The princess watched with a growing smile. The celestial seemed so motherly and especially handling a baby Alastor of all things! He was a clear natural. The sentiment was clearly shared as she gazed towards her father who bore a similar smirk at the scene. She wondered if he had felt the same at some point during their once shared lives.

“Good.” Wukong nodded. “Now seeing as Lucifer and I will be staying, Charlie, are there any connected rooms near the top? Ones that share a slightly smaller room that can be changed into a nursery? Seeing as only two of us have any experience in raising cubs it would be ideal for something like that.” Wukong asked the young woman.

Charlie gleefully paused in thought. ‘Connecting rooms… Connecting rooms…’ The princess’ eyes widened. “Oh my gosh- We do! Yes! We do!” Charlie beamed. She had always dreamed for a family of sinners to feel welcomed and touched enough to move in. Though it had never happened until now she had still designed the hotel with space and possibility for it to occur. Sure Vaggie had been a little skeptical but it paid off! It was great to think ahead like that. "Right at the top with a perfect view! Ooh I can get it ready!" She bounced on her heels with excitement.

“That would be a good idea if the room needs cleaning and to be aired out.” Wukong agreed. “For now is there just a quiet room I can put him down for a nap in?” Wukong motioned to the toddler on his hip.

"Of course! Hey Nifty?" Charlie called to which the little cyclops eagerly showed on her face fully removing herself from the floorboards.

"There were bugs down there!" She answered before anyone had even asked. "I'm on it!" She saluted already knowing what Charlie would ask of her as she made her ways towards the upper floors. She would double check later however, just to be sure.

"Now right this way," She ushered Wukong gently to one of the free rooms on the lower ground. "Not as spacious but it'll do nicely in the meantime." She assured the golden monkey.

“Good. I have to speak King-to-King with your Father after I put this little one down with one of my clones to watch over him.” Wukong stated to Charlie.

"Of course." She nodded, still coming to terms with the fact her co-worker would now need his diapers changed. "-Wait you can make clones too?! Awesome...!" She squealed before continuing in a more hushed tone. Oh she couldn't wait to start with the training! "There's a balcony on the upper floors, knowing dad he's probably marking it as his." Sighing with a small smile. "It's… never really in use but perfect for privacy." She smiled. There was so much she wanted to ask but the celestial probably needed time to digest it all as of right now. "I won't keep you but! I'd love for you to feel at home." Charlie murmured

“Charlie, any bed is fine after being forced to camp for fourteen mortal years on the ground,” Wukong replied with a chuckle.

Charlie gawped, both appalled and fascinated at the notion. "But you're our guest! Not to mention you helped calm down Alastor! It's only right that you get a proper warm welcome..." And suddenly the princess' eyes widened with an idea. How could she have not jumped immediately onto the idea of a welcome party?! She needed to find Vaggie and stat! "Rest assured Mr. King that all changes from today!" Charlie decreed with a look of determination burning in her eyes.

Wukong simply gave her a slightly raised brow before thinking nothing of it as she rushed off leaving Wukong alone to tuck the fawn into the bed allowing his magic to seep into the large bed and change it into a toddler-sized bed with raised sides carved with monkeys and peaches within the wood. He plucked a hair from his tail giving it a blow before a clone popped into existence. “Watch over him.” Wukong stated to the clone that saluted and transformed into a golden tabby cat with teal, scarlet, and peach-colored ‘tiger’ stripes. ‘Time to tell my story.’ Wukong thought.

TBC…

Until next time!

Heart comment reblog!

[xticklemeemox]

The Love You Want: III, Part Ten

this feels like i'm offering up trash. my brain absolutely despises this chapter im so sorry, most of it feels kinda rushed??? or not good enough.

Ao3

Masterlist

Previous Part

Next Part

Word count: 17,587

The next morning sees II and III out in the forest surrounding the manor. They both have every intention of gaining some sort of control over their respective gifts by noon. Vessel sits nearby, legs criss-crossed on a particularly large tree stump riddled with mushrooms and clusters of periwinkle at its base, content to watch as II idly twirls a drumstick in hand and III stares resolutely down at his own hands as though concentrating on something. The sun shines through the canopies and lights all of their hair with spots of gold, the forest lush and green, thriving.

"Ves, did you use a weapon when you killed those dickwads?" II asks, gnawing on the end of his drumstick in frustration.

"A scythe, yes." Vessel replies, watching in faint amusement as III's eyebrows furrow in frustration.

It is easy to summon the weapon, its weight appearing with a light shower of golden sparks, heavy in Vessel's lap as the blade nearly brushes the ground. II gasps, eyes wide in awe as he moves closer, staring more at Vessel in wonder than the weapon, at first. II had seen Vessel's eyes flash a bright crimson red, as if for just a moment, they had glowed. III gets up, too, to come take a closer look. Their hands are carefully hidden from II's view, spider-like enough that they're sure II would panic. II is well aware, unable to hide the twinge of fear ever present in the bond, and deliberately does not look anywhere below III's neck.

"This is beautiful, Vessel!" II exclaims, as III bounds over excitedly.

"This is the weapon gifted to you by Sleep?" When Vessel nods, III continues, "So you know what it feels like to summon it? Can you explain?"

"Well, Sleep said my weapon would only manifest with the help of something dear to me. It ended up being my body, the Vessel for my God, my instrument of worship. That is why it looks like this, because it's a part of me." Vessel explains, trying to keep his tone light even as the truth of what he says weighs down on him.

Vessel does not love himself. His body is not dear to him and yet it is, because this body connects him to Sleep, connects him to the other vessels. He may mutilate it, may end its functions for a time as some twisted version of sleep, but if Vessel really wanted to kill himself, he knows exactly how to do it, and yet he doesn't.

"Can I touch it?" III asks, quiet, as they take in the bones and overall appearance of the weapon.

Vessel nods, watching III intently as they reach out to brush careful fingers, still transformed, along the knobs of the spine pole. Even knowing the sensation isn't real doesn't stop a shiver from traveling down Vessel's own spine at just how careful III is being.

Vessel can't help but notice how gentle III is with the weapon, while Vessel wields it without much care at all.

Vessel rushes to continue explaining before II or III can say something kind that Vessel does not deserve, noticing the troubled expressions that have fallen over their faces like veils, sensing his melancholy in the bond. "Your weapon manifests in your drumsticks, II. I'd imagine III's will be manifested with their bass. They're your instruments of worship."

II eyes Vessel as III runs back to the house to retrieve their bass. There's a contemplative gleam in his eye as he moves to sit next to Vessel. Vessel moves his scythe, leaning the blade against the tree stump while the pole gets lost in the underbrush. II smiles in thanks, leaning close so their shoulders, or rather shoulder and bicep, touch. He looks beautiful, ethereal even, with the sun kissing his skin and making his piercings shine. Idly, he twirls a drumstick between his fingers with practiced ease.

"I'm not sure how to explain the way I summoned my weapon. I just- did it." Vessel tries to explain further, guilty he cannot seem to be of any help.

"It's connected to our worship. Maybe we need to attune to our connection with Sleep." II offers thoughtfully, then settles into a peaceful silence, his available hand coming to hold Vessel's.

"Are you feeling alright?" II asks without any preamble, startling Vessel a little, who had focused his attention on the pattern of a bird's tweeting to his right.

He does not say anything for a moment, and II lets him decide how to answer. II always hopes that every reply is the truth, but the fact of the matter is that Vessel is still learning that they care for him, and want to know, truly know, how he is doing. That they want him to remain happy and healthy.

"It is nothing more than a headache." Vessel assures with a placating smile, but II is not quite convinced.

It must show on his expression, or perhaps in the bond, because Vessel's resolve crumbles with merely a glance in II's direction.

"I feel a little... off." Vessel admits, "It should be nothing of concern though. I imagine it will pass."

II frowns, looking Vessel up and down to take note of anything amiss. Perhaps his face is a little pink, but that could be the sun, or a product of II staring at him. A small, imperceptible wince nearly passes by II's notice, a hand twitching up as though Vessel wants to hold his head.

"We do not usually fall sick, Ves-"

III comes out with their bass in hand before II can finish, easily finding their spot a bit away from the house, again. "Got it! How should we go about this?"

"I'm not sure, honestly." II mutters, deciding to drop the subject with Vessel for now, then speaks louder to be heard, "Maybe we should head back inside. The first time I summoned my axes, I was completely and utterly focused entirely on my drums and my body, my connection with Sleep strong."

While the idea is sound, it's mostly for Vessel's sake. II is used to the other man having headaches often enough which means light is only going to make it worse for him. Getting Vessel out of the sun will be beneficial, II is sure, even if the windows in the house won't make it much better.

"Sounds like a plan! So we're just gonna get really into the music. That won't be too hard, with your drumming and the way Vessel has written my bass notes so beautifully, we'll be summoning our weapons in no time."

Vessel smiles in amusement, glad to be free of II's well-meaning scrutiny, standing up and making his scythe disappear with a flourish of golden sparks. "That was so cool, love! And you did it so easily, too!"

Vessel blushes up to his ears, fully aware of how arousal had shot through both II and III's bonds. They do not ask for sex, though Vessel expected them to. Turning around to continue on to the house, Vessel clears his throat as he goes to try and rid himself of the tickle. He feels slower than usual, a little weighed down, but Vessel isn't quite sure what's wrong. Perhaps its the exhaustion.

II and III follow, lagging behind as III leans down to whisper in II's ear, "I wasn't even trying to make him blush this time but I'll count it as a win. He was so hot, too. Did you see the way he flourished that weapon? Damn."

II laughs, a twinge of nervousness to it as he swings their clasped hands lightly. The feel of III's transformed hand in his makes him uncomfortable, just shy of wanting to crawl out of his own skin, but II refuses to let go when III, sensing the discomfort, tries to pull away. He merely tightens his grip before speaking, looking up at III with a firm expression, pupils pinpricked in his fear, "I couldn't agree more, love. No matter how ravishing he looks we've got things to do today, though. And don't you dare deny me the pleasure of holding your hand."

"As you wish, Doll." III huffs, leaning down to capture II's lips with their own.

They both startle apart when III's bass slips off their shoulder, nearly getting II with the head of it. "Oh shit! Sorry!"

II just laughs this off too, gently pushing the bass head away from his face and helping III fix it over their shoulder. Vessel is stopped at the door when the porch finally comes into view for II and III, crouched at the threshold as he pets Elvira, thin vines twining loosely in his hair. She tries to sneak past him to escape the manor, but Vessel snatches her up easily with a soft reprimand that neither II nor III can hear. The expression on his face is loving, eyes squinted slightly as he holds Elvira up from under her armpits as she looks down at Vessel in discontent.

III is quick as lightning to bring his phone out to take a photo, immortalizing the adorable scene.

Elvira meows in protest when Vessel continues further into the house after wiping his bare feet off on the entryway rug, once II and III come up the steps, her head tucked under his chin. She does not fight him, does not claw her way out of Vessel's arms, only keeps the grumpy furrow to her brow as Elvira's tail tip twitches back and forth.

II snorts at the sight, body buzzing with affection at III's hand in his and Vessel being so adorable with II's beloved pet. As II and III remove their shoes at the front door, Vessel sets Elvira down at the door to the practice room. She books it down the hall to the stairs, loping up the steps with ease as III pulls II to a stop with him to watch her with mirth dancing in the blue of their eyes.

"I adore that menace." III states, letting II pull him along the rest of the way to the practice room.

"Well, like calls to like." II smirks, laughing when III shoves him with his shoulder.

Vessel is pressing keys lightly at his piano when they enter, a slow melody that they do not recognize. Vessel does not sing, his mask surprisingly not at his side today.

"That sounds beautiful, love. A new song?" II asks, walking over to give Vessel a kiss on the crown of his head while III wanders off to plug up their bass.

"Yes, I have nothing but the piano intro written right now." Vessel says, taking his hands off the keys and placing them in his lap to show he is done playing for now.

"Are you sure you can handle the noise with your headache?" II asks, concerned, brushing a hand over Vessel's hair to smooth down some unruly strands.

"You've a headache, Ves? You should go lay down." III says, also concerned, pausing between their steps.

"No, I'm quite alright. I get headaches too often to lay down every time I get one." Vessel smiles awkwardly, trying to reassure them even as he can feel his headache slowly getting worse over time.

"Are you sure, Sugar? I can feel the pain down the bond now that I'm aware of it- Stop that." III scolds gently as Vessel tries to make his bond less noticeable before III has even finished speaking.

"Apologies." Vessel says quietly, letting his end of the bond come back into full clarity.

"Will you at least take some medicine for it?" II urges, frowning when Vessel shakes his head in refusal.

"I will, later. I wish to help you both with your weapon manifestation."

II and III share matching expressions of fond exasperation that Vessel does not fail to notice. "As long as you promise to take a break if you need it." II says, big blue eyes staring down at Vessel strictly, but not unkind.

"I will try."

"Thank you, Vessel."

"I only agreed to your request." Vessel frowns, tilting his head back a little further so he can see II better.

"You agreed to a request to do something that will benefit you. I'm proud of you. You've come a long way from refusing anything that would cause you less hurt." II says with no small amount of satisfaction, hand still running gently through his hair.

Vessel leans into the touch as III speaks from where they're struggling to tie their hair back with only three fingers, bass mounted properly over their body on the other side of the room. "I'm proud of you, too, Ves. Give him a kiss for me, Two."

II smiles at III's familiar antics, leaning down so he's at level with Vessel's face, "You alright with a kiss, sweetheart?"

Vessel is quick to agree, trying to hide the over eagerness thrumming through his veins. II does as III requests, planting a solid kiss on Vessel's lips. Vessel smiles into it, as he always does, trying to school his features so the kiss can be proper. He doesn't quite manage it, but he finds he doesn't really care.

The headache is all but forgotten for the moment, even if the pain remains merely shoved to the back of Vessel's awareness, as soon as II's lips meet his own.

II's mouth is soft on Vessel's, and he feels utterly enamored by the small touch of skin on his. II pulls away far, far too soon for Vessel's liking and Vessel wants to lean forward and take II's lips again. He doesn't.

"One for myself." II murmurs, just a hairs breadth away.

Vessel feels giddy for half a second, excitement filling up his veins, before he shoves it down to not be too much.

II's breath ghosts against Vessel's lips as he presses his own back to Vessel's quickly. The kiss is just as soft as the first, a tender press filled with all the love and adoration II can muster. He hopes Vessel can feel even an ounce of it.

Vessel sighs into the kiss, a breathy sound that exhales between the smile he keeps. II's weight presses into him further as his hand pulls Vessel closer, closer, when there is no more room between them already.

Abruptly, II pulls away, just as Vessel feels his tongue sliding imploringly against his own bitten lips.

Vessel cannot stop the way his smile falls into a frown as II stands properly, no longer leaning over to crowd into Vessel's space. He wants II near again.

"If I don't stop now, this is going to go farther than I'm willing to take it at the moment." II explains, voice husky and filled with want, "I'm determined to make progress on the weapon situation today."

III speaks as II presses a chaste kiss to Vessel's forehead before going towards his drum kit, "Aww, I was enjoying the show though."

"You'd better keep it in your pants too, my love. " II says as he fixes his pants with no amount of subtlety.

As III grumbles something unintelligible in complaint, Vessel feels as though he is teetering on the edge of some sort of precipice, left hanging on by a thread as II walked away from him. He longs for II to return to his side, to kiss him again, for that kiss to lead into something more. He wants to feel II's skin beneath his fingers, hear the noises II would make, feel whatever undeserved pleasure he could bring Vessel.

Vessel wonders if he asks for more, would II grant him his request? II's arousal in the bond (and III's, apparently), leads Vessel to believe he might. But II doesn't want to do anything right now, so Vessel will abide those wishes, no matter how he longs for more. It is easy for Vessel to ignore his own needs, his own wants.

Well, it was before these two came into his life and have been slowly upending every belief Vessel had.

II starts up a slow kick of his bass drum, tapping on his snare lightly as he thinks.

"I just need to memorize what it feels like then replicate it while not using my drums. The problem is manifesting the axes in the first place."

"Why don't we start with our least difficult songs then work our way up to the harder stuff? It'll build up our concentration as we go." III suggests, and II grins.

"Beautiful idea, Three, let's try that out. We don't have much material to work with so playing music that isn't our own is fine. The worst that can happen is, well, nothing happening and we're left tired and sore."

III lights up like II had given him the moon and all the stars in the sky, happy to be praised for their good idea. It makes Vessel happy, too, to see such a bright grin on III's face.

It slides into a smirk quickly, though, as III says, "There's something else we could do where we're left tired and sore."

"If you do well today, I'll reward you, brat." II smirks back, and III somehow manages to light up even further, smirk growing wider.

"Oh, fuck yeah." III says, "I'm gonna get so many kisses."

Vessel snorts, surprised, then says quietly, "I expected a more vulgar reward."

"I never clarified where I wanted to be kissed, Sugar." III's smile turns sly while they focus on getting their hands back to normal and Vessel turns his head to hide his blush.

As II and III start off their playing, Vessel settles back to watch in rapt attention. III's bass, the volume low on their amp, can barely be heard over II's drumming, but they don't seem to mind, completely concentrating on their instrument.

Both of them seem to be channeling some of Sleep's power, perhaps attuning to their connection with the God like Vessel had suggested. Their skin is slowly blackening, inky tendrils spreading above their arms, fading at the edges as though in Worship.

It isn't long before the entirety of their skin is black as night, wisps of shadow dancing around them as Sleep's presence, His power, thrums in the room.

The practice room is quickly filled with the sound of music as II and III decide to start off with the same song. As II's drumming continues, Vessel begins to feel every hit of the bass drum in his skull, the instruments noise turning his headache into a migraine. The bass doesn't hurt his head as much as the drums do, thankfully, but all the noise is still painful.

It must be an hour, or perhaps two, later when the first sign of things going well occurs. II points out the silvery shine over one of his drumsticks, but does not stop playing for fear of losing complete concentration.

II focuses on the feeling tingling in his fingers as the drumstick begins to change, urging the transformation along. It happens in a flash of golden sparks, nearly breaking his snare drum again. Vessel had not been watching him, instead staring at the way III's fingers move over the bass' strings, enraptured by the long digits.

"Yes!" II exclaims, elation clear on his face as he holds up the heavy axe with ease, completely ceasing his playing.

"Damn, you managed to manifest your weapon again before I could figure out my own." III pouts jokingly before it turns into a smile, "I'm proud of you, Doll. What about the other one?"

II holds up the other drumstick, staring at it intently. A black sheen begins to spread over it, almost like a strange goopy substance, it's edges golden. When the drumstick is completely covered, golden sparks rain gently as a golden blade appears, a silver handle held firmly in II's grip.

"Will you be able to turn it back, now?" Vessel asks, curious, "And what of the other pair of axes in your room?"

"I'll check those out in a little while, once I manage to get these back to normal." II says, offhandedly, as he focuses on the axe in his hand.

He remembers the tingles that had been running through his fingers, trying to call upon the feeling again. III continues trying to summon their own weapon as II figures out how to get rid of his own. It's more difficult getting the axe to turn back into a drumstick, but II manages given enough time and effort.

"I'm taking a break, I want a snack or something." III says after a frustrated sigh, standing and stretching with their bass still slung over their front.

III moves to set his bass down, and in that exact moment before it is set into the stand, it changes.

The war hammer slams into the stand as III yelps in surprise, their hair turning bright, neon green as a loud crash sound ensues. Vessel flinches back from the sound, the action and the noise causing his headache to flare up with a pulse of pain.

"What the fuck! Holy shit!" They exclaim, eyes wide in shock as they look from their weapon to II and Vessel, then back again.

II and Vessel are already making their way over to III with quick strides. "Are you alright?" Vessel asks before II can ask the same question, taking III's hands and checking them over for injuries with one pair of eyes and scanning the rest of his body with the others.

"I'm fine! Just got startled. Looks like I finally managed to manifest my weapon! This thing is huge!" III laughs excitedly, wrapping his fingers around Vessel's to keep them in his grip. "Broke my stand though."

"Three, sweetheart, your hair is green." II states, staring up at them in awe.

III's expression seems to freeze on their face, before melting into shock.

"What."

III drops Vessel's hands and is out the door in seconds, weapon forgotten. Vessel moves to follow, but II stops him with a smile. "Give him a second."

They both stay put, observing the weapon before a loud exclamation sounds down the hall through the open door.

"You have got to be shitting me. This color looks terrible on me!"

II laughs, turning to hide his face in Vessel's arm as they stand close to one another.

"I think you look pretty, as always." Vessel says once III comes back, hair still that same bright green color.

"Thanks, Sugar, but I do not like this shade of green. I look like a damn lime." III sighs in exasperation, black beginning to recede back into their arms.

"Another gift from Sleep, perhaps?" II muses, cheek smushed into Vessel's arm where they're still pressed close.

Then, a look of realization strikes across his face, "Three, take off your shirt!"

"Huh?" Three asks, even as he does as II says.

II pulls Vessel along with him as they make their way to III. II takes III's shoulders and starts turning them around so he and Vessel can look at their back.

"The question marks, Three. What if you can do more than just the spider limbs? Your hair just turned green! What if you can shapeshift?" II queries, eager eyes roving over all the little questions marks littered on III's back.

Even now, they shift and change as he and Vessel watch on.

"Try to get your hair to change back." II advises, "Just like how you get your spider limbs to go away."

III turns back around to face them when II lets them go, expression unsure. Despite the weariness, III does as asked, again. With a little concentration, the neon green of his hair turns instead back to his natural blonde.

"You've got it, love." II smiles, surging forward to hug III.

"It can't just be my hair then. You might be right, Doll." III says, wrapping II up in his arms. "Look."

II turns so that both he and III are facing Vessel, as they all watch in fascination as the skin of III's arms, still wrapped around II, lose the black coloring. III's arms turn back to his natural skin tone, all traces of Sleep disappearing. In the next moment, III wills Sleep's markings to return, and they do.

"Two told you you weren't a monster." Vessel says quietly, placing a gentle hand on III's cheek.

III feels tears welling up in their eyes immediately, hiding their face in the palm still pressed to their cheek. III presses a tender kiss to Vessel's palm, before moving the conversation along.

"Let's see if I can figure out how to ah, de-summon this thing." III blurts, an unusually embarrassed blush coloring his cheeks as he brushes away the unshed tears.

The three of them immediately regret the loss of contact, but II lets III pull away as Vessel drops his hand back to his side without a fuss. II goes back to his axes while III hefts the hammer over their shoulder. Its heavy, like expected, but the weight is strangely familiar despite III having never wielded something like this before.

Focusing on how it felt to summon the weapon, III tries to do the same thing, only in reverse. It's harder than changing his form, it seems, as the first few attempts result in failure. III doesn't give up though, and success comes to him eventually. As the war hammer disappears in a small rain of golden sparks, II speaks, tossing one of his axes in the air.

"We need to get used to summoning the weapons without relying on Sleep's power. I know its possible, Vessel has done it."

The axe swings in a full circle, going faster and faster as it goes up, and then starts coming down. With ease, II catches it by the hilt as though he had been wielding the weapon all his life.

"It feels as though it's apart of me, like an extra set of limbs. I was... I was worried I would not be able to wield it with as much ease as Vessel does." II admits, quiet and contemplative.

His smile is strained as he turns them back into drumsticks.

"They're connected to your soul. Like mine, like III's. We have no idea if we can even fight with them, yet. I could, but they were merely human. I have the powers of a God at my beck and call. My connection with Sleep is also stronger... different than yours, as the First." Vessel explains, "The magic seems to come to me easier than it has for either of you."

Vessel winces even though most of the sound has ceased, squinting his eyes while his head is turned away as though it will lessen the pounding through his skull. Nausea starts to swirl more insistently in his stomach and Vessel fears he may throw up. He turns away from II and III abruptly, a hand pressed to his mouth.

"Vessel? You alright?" II asks, feeling down the bond how his pain has increased.

Vessel shakes his head, the motion making him feel worse and he stops before he pukes all over the floor. He makes his way out of the practice room without a word.

II and III follow him with haste, worried as Vessel stumbles down the hall. II and III split at the door to the practice room, II following Vessel to take his arm and help him to the restroom, and III making his way to the kitchen. II does not bother to turn the light on as Vessel lurches forward, bent over the toilet bowl, dry heaving and coughing up saliva as his stomach continues to churn. The light from the hall is plenty to see by, too much, even. As if they need it. His migraine pounds away at his skull, the coughs wracking his body only making the pain worse as it pulses with the movement of his body.

III comes back quickly with a glass of water and some medicine for a headache. He places it on the counter as they watch II crouched at Vessel's side, holding back his hair for him. III takes the hair tie out of their own hair so that it falls loose, handing it to II who pulls Vessel's hair back into a messy ponytail, using his hand to rub Vessel's lower back gently, where he knows Vessel doesn't mind being touched.

A few moments pass in concerned silence where Vessel cannot open his eyes, even with the overhead light of the bathroom off. His stomach churns furiously, and he feels hot even if he knows it cannot be true. II's hand, warm on his back, is nearly too much but Vessel refuses to pull away.

"I'll keep Vessel company, can you go grab his mask? He needs complete darkness." II waves III on with a request and a tight-lipped smile.

Vessel does not want that. He does not want II to feel obligated to stay with him when whatever this is, is surely Vessel's own fault. At the same time, Vessel wants nothing more than for II to remain by his side.

III leaves without protest, rushing off to figure out where Vessel last sat his mask down. Usually it was attached to his belt, resting at his side for ease of access whether he needed to rest his eyes or to comfort himself by hiding his face away, but Vessel had completely forgone it today and III cannot remember for the life of them where he last saw it.

II turns back to Vessel before III is fully out of sight, taking note of the pale pallor of his skin, and the sense of wrongness in the bond. "What's wrong, love?"

"It's the headache." Vessel gives a half-truth, wiping his mouth of drool as he tries to squint his eyes open. "The music made it worse, that's all."

"You've only ever gotten sick after using that sleep ability, Ves." II recalls, knowing gaze boring into Vessel intently.

Vessel stiffens with panicked guilt, hunching over to heave into the toilet bowl again before he can get an apology out. Something feels stuck in his throat, and he coughs to dislodge it. Black sludge drips from his lips, and the taste lingers, disgusting and lasting. Panic seizes Vessel like a vice, coiling around his throat.

Vessel wipes his mouth before speaking again, forcing the words out and avoiding II's expectant gaze.

"I did not break my promise. I swear it. Please, I swear it on my devotion to Sleep. I- I did not know this would happen." Vessel begs, tears dripping into the toilet with the meager contents of his stomach. "I get headaches all the time, but- I don't usually get sick with them."

III tugs on the bond as he frantically searches the house for the mask, not understanding where in the fuck it could've gone. Its always easy to find when it isn't necessary to have and yet as soon as Vessel needs the damn thing, it's nowhere to be found. III tugs on the bond again when they receive nothing back from Vessel, feeling him devolving into more panic. They nearly turn back to head to the bathroom and forget the mask all together when Vessel finally tugs back on the bond, sending down guilty assurance that he is fine. III can tell immediately that it is a lie, but only searches harder, desperate to get back to Vessel, to II, whose bond is frayed with mounting stress.

"What... did you do that could have caused this?" II asks, rubbing soothing circles to try and reassure Vessel, but the other man cannot answer.

He scoots away from the toilet, shoving himself into the wall with his arms around his legs, trying to make himself smaller as his hands shake and his mind races. Vessel's head hurts so badly, throat tight with emotion. He didn't mean to break his promise, he didn't. II isn't going to believe him. He's going to leave him for breaking his promise. II's going to leave him.

Vessel hides his face behind his knees as he cries, flinching away when II sits next to him, body pressed close while still leaving some space between them. II does not move closer, nor does he pull away, and with time, Vessel moves to press their bodies together again, seeking the comfort II is offering. Minutes must pass as Vessel tries to get his breathing under control. The warmth of II at his side helps, to not be alone. Carefully, as though II will slap his hand away, Vessel turns enough so his hand can comfortably hover before II's chest, over his heart. He does not move his hand any closer, letting II decide if he is to shove Vessel away or bring him nearer. II chooses the latter without an ounce of hesitation, taking Vessel's hand in his own and placing it down the rest of the way onto II's chest so Vessel can feel the steady thump!thump!thump! of II's heart beneath his palm.

Vessel tries his best to match II's breathing, which has deepened to help Vessel mimic it.

"I made them... those who killed Three, I made them live through exactly what they inflicted upon him. Multiple times." Vessel admits quietly, stilted words getting caught in his chest frequently, bracing himself for the worst with tense muscles and resignation through every bone.

"You... Can you explain further, love? I'm not quite following." II struggles to understand what Vessel is saying.

Vessel wonders what exactly he should say while making sure not to reveal that he can eat nightmares, that he actively eats their nightmares if he can.

"I did not put them to sleep but I gave them nightmares. It was... so easy. So, so easy after I had witnessed what they'd done to- " Vessel winces, mind getting caught up in what he'd seen, III's ragged breaths as his killers laughed and laughed, how they slowly petered out until falling silent and Vessel cannot touch them, cannot help, is so fucking useless as he tries desperately to do something, anything-

"Vessel! Sweetheart, are you o-"

"I'm fine!" Vessel almost snaps, flinching back harshly as though struck as soon as the words leave his lips.

His mouth clicks shut audibly, eyes wide as he watches II. He moves away, pressing himself back into the wall again, well away from II. II frowns, keen gaze noticing how one pair of Vessel's eyes keeps darting down to follow every small movement of II's hands.

"You were spiraling into another panic attack. You're not fine." II states, scooting away to give Vessel more space, hands loosely held in front of himself in full view of Vessel.

Vessel can't seem to decide where he wants to be. Should he stay away from II when Vessel only moved away in his automatic fear of being hurt? II has not grown angry with him for snapping, has moved away to give Vessel more space that he does not want between them. He did invade Vessel's personal bubble in anger at Vessel talking back, is- is letting Vessel have space without a second thought..

Vessel wants to love and be loved in return. He wants their love for him to last. He wants it to be real. He wants, so badly.

Vessel decides quickly, crawling after him on aching knees, face crumpled into something absolutely miserable, "I apologize. I didn't mean to get snappy. I- I keep seeing him, if I think too hard about what I did to his murderers. It makes me so angry, and- Fucking distraught. They... I couldn't help them Two, and it- it haunts me. I keep hearing their breathing slow-. And- And I broke my promise to you and Three. I broke my promise. This ability is not mine either, Sleep warned me it was dangerous and yet I did not listen."

Vessel makes an aborted move to reach out for II, bringing his arms back to himself in an attempt at a hug. Tears still drip relentlessly down his cheeks, and he looks an absolute mess of misery.

II holds his arms out invitingly, concerned expression soft with affection so freely given. Caving in to his desire, Vessel wraps his arms around II's waist, uncomfortably placed between II's spread knees with his head pressed to II's stomach. Vessel is curled there, between II's legs, feeling like a pathetic little child, even as II's arms come to wrap over Vessel's back, one hand sliding into his hair. Its the closest thing they've gotten to a hug since Vessel allowed just the one, and II tries not to let his happiness at being able to hold Vessel overwhelm him. The situation doesn't allow it, but II is really so, so happy to have Vessel in his arms like this.

Vessel doesn't deserve this, doesn't deserve how safe he feels wrapped up in II's arms, even with the expectation of pain following. He is taking more affection than he deserves. They'll grow tired of him, soon.

Vessel is sure II is going to leave him now. Or hurt him. What's a little more pain when he already feels it so strongly? Vessel would prefer II hurt him. He would deserve it, it's expected even. It's preferred to II leaving.

Vessel would end himself permanently if II ever left him, the first person aside from his God to ever treat him with heartfelt care, no matter how faint that care must be. He knows III would follow II, can see it in their eyes and soul. Vessel would be alone, ruined, and then his God will no longer want him either.

"I'm not going to leave you, Vessel. Its okay to get irritated sometimes, and you apologized. I'm upset, yes, but I assure you I'mnotleaving you, and I'mnotgoing to hurt you."

"How did you-?" Vessel winces again, closing his eyes hurriedly as another pulse of pain shoots through his skull like someone had slammed a hammer into his temple.

"The bond, love, and your expression before you chose me as a pillow." II's voice remains gentle, and Vessel recognizes that he is not upset with Vessel, only teasing him lightly, "And don't you dare try to hide this from me too, please."

"I'm sorry." Vessel apologizes again as he lets his bond bleed back into clarity just as III finally comes back with Vessel's mask.

II's positivity had confounded III right up until they saw exactly what position he and Vessel were in. It was really no wonder why II seemed so happy, even concerned as he is.

"Sorry, I kept glancing over it in my rush to find it. It was in the living room." III apologizes, guilty it had taken so long to find.

Vessel takes his mask eagerly with heartfelt gratitude, fitting it over his face as mesh forms over the eyes, blocking out all light to the point Vessel cannot see past the thick material. The relief is miniscule and immediate.

"Vessel swears he did not use the ability we forbade, and yet he is falling ill all the same." II states, and Vessel wants to  disappear, choosing instead to try and hide his face in II's stomach, though the mask makes it difficult.

He was hoping II wouldn't tell III what he'd learned, but they do not keep secrets from each other unless it is explicitly asked of them. And Vessel did not even think to ask.

He wonders what the punishment will be. Wonders how badly it will hurt, how long it will take to heal. Maybe they'll listen if Vessel asks for his throat and fingers to be left alone. He needs them to sing and play.

Vessel did not mean to break his promise, did not even realize he had done so, but clearly by giving those assholes nightmares, he has changed himself again.

Is this what Sleep meant when he said the ability was dangerous?

"Vessel..." III sighs in disappointment, and Vessel fears the worst, squeezing his eyes shut as he wishes for II's ribcage to open up so Vessel can sit next to his heart, safe in the body of one of his beloveds where II cannot just be rid of him, where III's disappointment in him cannot cut so deeply.

"No kisses for two whole days."

Vessel's racing mind grinds to a sudden halt.

"Is that it?" Vessel's incredulous voice is muffled into II's stomach, wishing he could see their face despite the migraine still eating away at his nerve endings.

"Yes, that's it, though I fear it will be more torturous for me than it will be for you." Even if Vessel cannot see them, III still places a hand over their heart in exaggerated exasperation.

Vessel frowns, knowing that statement is false. "I disagree." Vessel denies, quiet, meant more for himself than the other two, but they hear him anyway.

III grins, worry pushed to the side for a moment, looking to II with shining eyes, who has his own small smile.

For Vessel to admit it, to disagree with III on something like this, it means the world to III. Perhaps Vessel is just as enamored with the thought of kissing III as III is with kissing him.

"Let's get you up off the floor, love." II says, still so gentle in his words and actions, as he helps Vessel up out of his lap and off the floor.

"I know we keep this place pretty clean but this is still the bathroom." III muses, patting invisible dust off of II's ass, hands lingering longer than would be considered proper.

II eyes him with a raised eyebrow, knowing exactly what they were up to. III smiles back, eyes wide and sparkling in the epitome of innocence. II shakes his head in mock exasperation, reaching over and up, flicking them on the forehead. III rubs the spot with a faint smirk, failing to disguise it as a scowl.

"Are you not upset that I will likely... look different? That another change to this body is imminent?" Vessel asks, willing the mesh over his eyes to thin enough to see through.

The light hurts his eyes, but Vessel needs to see them. Wants to see with his own eyes if there is any traces of lies on their faces.

"You're going to be beautiful to me no matter how you look physically. I love you, your heart and soul, not just your looks." II says before III can get their own words out.

III echoes the sentiment, brushing some strands of hair away from between the seam of Vessel's mask and his skin. He remains gentle, as though Vessel is made of glass. Vessel expects to hate the notion that he is fragile, but he only feels cared for, maybe even loved if his damaged heart could fathom it.

Tears not born from pain prick Vessel's eyes, slipping over to join the ones of agony, dripping down his face below the mask. He moves to the sink, wiping some of the tears off the bottom of his jaw before hastily brushing his teeth.

"I love you, too. Both of you. Not just for your looks either."

Vessel feels warm, sending that tender heat down the bond as he takes the pills III brought. Exhausted and still pained, Vessel lets II take his hand, leading him to the living room and not resisting when II gently pushes him down into the couch. III wanders off after pressing a kiss into Vessel's hair, parting from their little trio with a brush of his hand along II's back.

II sits on the couch beside Vessel, leaving space for Vessel to return to his earlier position from the bathroom, only on a much more comfortable surface. The mask digs into II's stomach uncomfortably but II doesn't mind, not when he gets to hold Vessel like this. Not when Vessel is trusting him to such an extent. The minutes pass in silence as III brings in a bunch of small packages of snacks, dropping them on the coffee table before disappearing again. II runs his fingers through Vessel's hair, humming off-key so lowly that the noise doesn't aggravate Vessel's headache. Vessel wouldn't have asked him to stop for anything in the world, regardless.

Vessel feels better when the medicine eventually kicks in, well enough to take his mask off again. He turns so his head is resting properly in II's lap, curled up into himself so he doesn't take up too much space on the couch. II asks Vessel about anything that had interested him of late, trying to distract him. Tired eyes are lit up in excitement as he goes on and on about the show III had put on the night before. His face is flushed with the beginnings of a fever, eyes a little glassy, but he seems wholly unconcerned with his physical state. II is glad, even though there is still discomfort in the bond as his migraine lingers.

"They sexualize the girls a bit with the revealing clothes but Gray strips naked all the time anyway and he's a man. Their characters are so well developed, too! Strong, as well. The magic system is interesting-"

II watches Vessel fondly as he goes over some of the plot that II had ended up falling asleep during, hand still in Vessel's hair while he rubs a thumb over his forehead and into his hairline and back with all the love II holds in his body. Watches fondly the way Vessel's eyes seem alight talking about something he enjoys, the way its shown when one side of his mouth ticks up in a smile. Warm affection swells in his chest, slow fingers moving to brush a strand of Vessel's messy hair behind his ear.

Vessel pauses, head tilting curiously, feeling II's want to speak. II doesn't, not for a few seconds at least, content to watch Vessel's expressions shift with the changes in the bond, to try and memorize every line in his face and the way a shy smile makes more wrinkles appear as his face scrunches. Six beautiful eyes look up at II, framed by such dark eyelashes. II adores him.

"Am I... speaking too much?" Vessel wonders, voice going quieter than usual, shyness making way for embarrassment.

"You could read me the alphabet in every language known to man and I would never tire of hearing your voice. I was just wondering if I could trouble you for a kiss, beautiful?"

II enjoys the pink that never fails to flush Vessel's cheeks every time they ask for a kiss. He's not even sure Vessel is aware it happens. There's no hiding the smile the question brings, exasperated but fond.

"I wish you would not ask. I would never refuse you or Three a kiss. I enjoy them too much." Vessel admits abashedly, eyes flicking down to II's lips then back up. "But did Three not say no kissing for two days?"

II smirks, dimple appearing, and he looks so fucking pretty Vessel cannot seem to form a coherent thought, cannot even seem to take in an unnecessary breath.

"That punishment is yours, not mine, honey. If Three didn't want me to kiss you, then they should have said so." There's a mischievous lilt to II's voice, and Vessel couldn't stop himself if he tried, lost in the blue of II's eyes and entranced by his beauty.

Vessel laughs, more than a giggle or a small chuckle, an actual laugh that sends II's heart into his throat, pounding rapidly with widened, wet eyes.

Perhaps it's the fever, the sickness beginning to take hold of him. Perhaps its trust. Trust in what II and III have said to him, no matter how small the seed of it might be. Perhaps its a mix of both. Its no matter, Vessel would not be able to explain why he did not think, in that moment, that he would get in trouble for the noise.

II leans down, discomfort invading his limbs at the awkward position, lips capturing Vessel's so he can swallow the tail end of the laugh, as though by doing so a little bit of the sound will remain with him forever. II's tongue swipes at Vessel's bottom lip, and Vessel opens his mouth eagerly, letting his own tongue's two tips curl into II's mouth over his smaller fangs. II pulls away when he tastes blood, unsure if its his own or Vessel's.

A pink tongue comes to swipe across Vessel's lips, as though he could gather the lingering taste of II on his tongue. Iron coats his taste buds, his own blood a welcome flavor, a spot of red on II's own lips catching his eye.

The bottom pair of Vessel's eyes are torn away from the crimson droplet peeking out from between II's lips when he opens then to speak, "You're so dear to me, my love."

Vessel flushes a darker shade than the fever had already left him with, offering a shy smile in response.

Vessel wants to tell II just how much he means to Vessel, but is afraid to be too much, not enough. One arm lifts to wrap a hand around the back of II's neck, intending to pull him back down for more.

III's scandalized gasp stops him as they come back into the living room with drinks in hand and blankets piled over their shoulder. Vessel's arm falls back to his side immediately.

"How dare you!" They exclaim, and Vessel is worried that both he and II are now in trouble, eyeing III warily.

"Vessel's punishment is going to be the death of me. I can't believe you get to kiss him and I don't! In front of me, no less!" III laments, playing up the theatrics as they set the drinks down on the coffee table with the snacks.

"Perhaps you should have chosen a different punishment." II says after placing another kiss on Vessel's lips.

III pouts as they sit down on II's other side, leaning their head on his shoulder, cheek smushed. "I admit I didn't think it through."

"I figured that. You should have told him not to spend any time in the practice room for the next couple of days." II smiles, nuzzling against the side of III's head and breathing in their familiar scent.

"Is it too late to change the punishment? I like your idea better." III practically whines, sinking further into the couch so that they're half hidden behind II instead of leaning on him.

"Nope. You're showing how much of a dom you're not, sweetheart." II laughs, fingers still gently caressing Vessel's hair, brushing over his forehead like he's something precious.

The gentle affection has left him with eyes half-lidded, drowsiness taking hold of any awareness Vessel might've had. He really wants to rest his eyes and slip away into sleep, but that will not come to pass.

"I'm a perfectly fine dom, thank you. Though I wouldn't say no to constructive criticism. Maybe some hands on teaching?" III suggests, and even if Vessel cannot see him, he can hear the mischievous lilt oozing from every word.

"You're an insatiable menace." II grunts, before humming thoughtfully, "I really would like to see you practice on Vessel though, if he's interested."

Vessel's eyes shoot open, beginning to shove himself up into a sitting position, trying to force more awareness into himself so he can pay proper attention to any orders given. II gently holds him down with a quiet reprimand, "Not right now, love. When you're better."

Vessel frowns, opening his mouth to protest that he's perfectly fine and willing. Though, it would be a lie. Vessel certainly doesn't feel up to it, but things like that have never mattered.

"I won't fuck you if you're sick, Ves. I wish you could rest, actually. You always look so tired." III interjects before Vessel can speak as they put their hand on Vessel's cheek, slowly stroking over his cheekbone.

"It is my holy duty to bear the weight of. You don't need to worry yourself over it. Sleep will not be swayed from His decision." Vessel insists, leaning into the gentle touch on his cheek.

III's hand is warm on his face, and Vessel is caught between wanting to pull away from the heat or nuzzle into the hand like a cat.

"Actually," II starts, almost contemplative, "I had asked once before if you could be allowed to rest. Sleep did not outright deny me. He even said He would consider it, annoyed as He was."

After hearing that, Vessel wonders if Sleep would grant his request for sleep. If... If II had already asked and Sleep did not outright refuse, maybe there is a chance-

Vessel would not dare hope.

"Perhaps if all three of us ask him, he'll grant the request." II muses, finally picking a show on the TV, though he pauses it once it loads up.

Elvira hops up on the back of the couch, III immediately making grabby hands at her and cooing like she's a newborn babe. She meows, avoiding him before hopping down to stand on Vessel's stomach. He lets out an oomph at the action, stomach twisting up into knots. Clearly, the nausea has not completely gone away. He smiles at her regardless, as she puts her face right up in his, staring him down.

"Elvira, no! Not right now, baby, Vessel's sick." II says, picking Elvira up off of Vessel's stomach and handing her off to III who brings her into a hug.

"She was okay." Vessel mumbles, a little sad even as he has to fight back the nausea she caused.

"You can pet her just fine without her making you feel worse, love. Three, honey, would you grab a plastic grocery bag? Vessel looks like he's about to throw up."

III does as asked, taking Elvira with him, and they couldn't return any sooner because as soon as Vessel takes the bag, he's leaning over the side of the couch to  puke into it.

"Neither of you have to stay with me. Its still the middle of the day." Vessel tries, knowing they couldn't possibly want to stay with him when he's this disgusting.

They've dealt with him sick one too many times, if they were to ask Vessel. He fears if they care for him too much, then they'll get annoyed at how needy he is.

"Whyever would I want to move? I've got one of my pretty boyfriends practically in my lap." II grins, pressing a kiss to Vessel's forehead.

III wraps an arm around II's shoulder, pastel pink frog sock clad feet kicked up onto the coffee table as they smirk, "I'm also quite content with this. I get to be lazy and stare at my pretty boyfriends, too. We do need a bigger couch, though. Or maybe we should buy a mattress for the living room we can just pull out when we want to properly cuddle and watch TV or game. Ves and I are too tall."

"That's not a bad idea, sweetheart. We're not exactly wanting for money, and the living room is definitely large enough. We'd just need to shove the couches back so there's more space." II and III continue talking quietly as Vessel settles down on his side to watch the anime II had finally pressed play on.

It's the same one as yesterday, and Vessel lights up when II restarts it from where he had last seen. Vessel doesn't mind in the slightest to rewatch episodes. It allows him to notice things he missed the first time around.

As the credits roll for another episode, Vessel realizes he nearly kissed II on his own, earlier before III had interrupted them. The thought unsettles him. Vessel had almost made a mistake, without a thought. He'd felt... safe enough to kiss II. It felt different to letting II kiss him. He has never been allowed to take what he wants from his partners, why would it be any different now? Vessel is glad that III inadvertently stopped him from fucking up royally.

Elvira rubbing up against Vessel's face brings him out of his depressing spiral of thoughts as she curls up by his chest. Carefully, as though she will leave if Vessel moves too fast, he wraps his arms around her but does not pull her closer. She lets out a short little meow as II eyes the both of them fondly. Elvira stays cuddled up to Vessel for far longer than any of them thought she would, only leaving when III gets up to feed her in the evening.

Vessel insists they let him stay on the couch, finding his body too weak at the end of the day, headache returning that Vessel is given medicine to stifle. II offers to carry him up to bed but Vessel vehemently refuses. They'd be too close, that way, and Vessel cannot allow them to find out his chest is empty. Instead, II and III make themselves comfortable on the couch and loveseat respectively, as neither intend to leave Vessel alone when sickness is imminent.

He's bedridden for a few days, or perhaps couch ridden is the proper term, stomach rolling as Vessel pukes up black tar into a waste bin II had brought him to replace the plastic bag, aching body riddled with a fever. The change is smaller this time, golden cracks splintering the pitch black skin of his arms and legs, detailing appearing on the markings Sleep gifted him. New marks spread, too, over his hip bones along the small, barely noticeable scars there, down his pelvis much like III's. Branches of small black and golden leaves and apple blossoms that II traces a thumb over as he helps Vessel change into a clean set of pajamas.

Vessel had watched II with half-lidded eyes as he traced the new markings, wondering if II would act upon the desire they were both swimming in. He did not, and Vessel is left disappointed, but not surprised. They said they would not have sex with him while he's sick, and ill he still is.

The sickness does not last more than three days, differing from the other times Vessel has fallen ill. The theory is that the time is shorter because Vessel did not use the ability more than a few times, unlike when he'd put the other vessels to sleep constantly during their transformations.

Vessel forces his sore body to move as the third day dawns, using the wall to help his way to the bathroom so he can brush his teeth. Most of the nausea has subsided, and Vessel was confident he wouldn't be puking his guts up anymore, even if the fever and the headache remained.

Staring into the mirror, Vessel doesn't feel much of anything at the sight of his hair. A thick stripe of white juts up from his hairline, taking over a decent portion of the hair framing his face. The white seems almost silver in the shitty fluorescent lights of the bathroom, and it would be pretty if it were on anyone other than Vessel. He looks away quickly, avoiding his reflection as he always does. Vessel brushes his teeth quickly and makes his way back to the living room, eager to move on. Hopefully the others will still love him even if he looks like he's aged forty years in a couple days.

Vessel tries not to appear too hopeful or expecting as III wakes, strewn over the loveseat as though they fit on it perfectly despite his legs hanging off the armrest by a large margin. III notices, though, how Vessel watches them closely, how one set of eyes can't seem to look away from their lips for too long as III sips their morning coffee.

"You're so pretty, love." III comments as Vessel chugs down his too hot coffee, taking in the thick white streak in Vessel's hair on his left side.

Vessel smiles shyly, but does not respond, eyes flicking back down to III's lips. III can see the longing on Vessel's face, and the excitement when III finally shows mercy on the both of them and asks for a kiss with a put upon sigh that both he and Vessel know is merely exaggerative. They taste of coffee and the creamers they each like to use, gentle nips of III's teeth on Vessel's lips making Vessel shudder with desire.

II smirks adoringly, nursing his own cup of tea, "Three, dear, you need to take a break from the make out session. You look like you're going to eat him alive and Ves is still not feeling well. Your coffee is going to get cold, as well."

III pouts the rest of the day when II refuses to let them do anything more than a chaste kiss, stealing all the air from II's lungs in retribution. Vessel doesn't mind as much as he thought he would, oddly liking being able to watch them.

Once Vessel is better, things do not quite go back to normal. II has yet to tell Vessel about Sleep finding them a manager knowing that shows are soon to follow, and Vessel continues to look worse and worse, more and more worn out. He couldn't possibly stress him out even further with a time crunch. Not right now.

They do not have sex again. Vessel keeps expecting them to ask for it. Keeps expecting them to go to each other. They do not. Their affections do not lessen, they kiss and dote on him just as much as before, if not more so. He feels unworthy of it, like he hasn't given anything in return for the affections he receives. He felt unworthy of how good III's mouth on his cock made him feel. It is just another thing he did not know, and yet the other vessels did not reprimand him for his ignorance, only strived to teach him.

It was unusual, but Vessel could not lie and say it did not warm some part of his soul he thought long dead.

A large part of Vessel worries he ruined everything and that they will no longer want to have sex with him, and that their love is soon to wither away, too.

He tries to stifle the anxious trains of thought he seems to keep having, not wanting to taint the bond with his fears. It was easier if he kept himself distracted, as he was doing now by rearranging III's flower vases in the altar room. III had sent him in with a large bouquet of fresh picks, entrusting him with making the altar look pretty for their God.

Vessel decides to worship, as he's bringing a new vase for the flowers III entrusted him with. He makes sure to lock the door behind him. Even if he won't be killing himself for rest he desperately needs, Vessel still would like to offer up some of his blood and he does not want to see the disappointment and the pain that he always seems to cause when they find out he's hurt himself again.

Vessel must have misplaced the knife, as its nowhere to be found in any of Vessel's usual hiding spots. Its the only thing he can think of, unless II or III found it. Its no matter, if they take all of his sharp objects away, Vessel will still have his nails. He'd washed his hands when he came inside the house, so the risk of infection is low, and its not like he would die permanently from it anyway. He presses one long nail to his arm, the sharp tip breaking skin with a little force. Watching his skin split open, blood beading to the surface, causes a dull thrill to race up Vessel's spine. Finally, Vessel can punish himself for ruining the last sexual encounter the vessels had. That must be why they won't fuck him.

He manages about ten slices, not too deep, but enough to leave a small pool of blood in the offering plate before he feels Sleep's presence in the room. The red candle lights with a golden flame, and his mind is gone before he even starts to fall.

Then, Vessel wakes up in Sleep's realm like he had fallen to the ground and opened his eyes upright within a blink. It's disorienting, but familiar. His eyes adjust to the darkness with ease as Sleep's voices, His presence, invade his every sense.

"My dear First, it is a pleasure to see you again."

Vessel smiles, always glad to see, or hear, his God. "I was to worship in a moment, my God."

Sleep laughs, His presence brushing along his back in a swirling breeze filled with crimson leaves, "I wished to see you, my First. If you will not be resting your body, then this is the only way I can see you."

Vessel leans into the presence, just enough to feel it wrap around him but not enough to lose his balance by tilting too far forward.

"Come, my First. Sit, write, let your mind run free. I am quite intrigued by your thought processes while writing lyrics and melodies. I wish to hear all you will tell." The breeze pushes Vessel forward, toward a large grove of apple trees.

The moon shines above them, its pale light filtering through the dense canopies above Vessel's head. Vessel feels calm, at peace, surrounded entirely by his God's presence.

III's panic strikes through the tranquility and Vessel nearly stumbles with the force of it. He is usually unable to feel them so strongly here in this realm, so the sudden onslaught catches him off guard.

"Oh, Three has never experienced my coming here. I should have warned them that you wished to resume my visits." Vessel frowns, turning back to stare the way he came. "They will not be able to stomach the sight of my blood. I- I did not think you would be bringing me here today. If I'd known, I would have warned the others. He is... afraid."

"Even now, they take all your attention." Sleep says, and if Vessel could see His face, he knows a sneer would be present. "I have let you give them your undivided attention far longer than I wished."

Vessel has never seen Sleep... upset like this.

"I think they are only worried, my God. First and foremost, I am yours." Vessel says, attention caught again by the panicked worry in III's bond.

"Their worry is unfounded. You are safe with me." Sleep croons, voices all tinged with something Vessel cannot name, a breeze ruffling Vessel's hair insistently.

The action causes Vessel to lose focus on the bond, as Vessel assures, "I know I am. Their worry for me will fade with their love, my God."

"A love like theirs seems unlikely to fade with time, my First. Of that, I am sure." Sleep's voices lose some of its hard edge.

"If you say so. I- I am not so certain."

"That is why I will be keeping a watchful eye over them, my dearest Vessel. A ripple in the water is nothing compared to a boulder. They do not yet know all there is to know."

A branch bends down, a shiny, red apple offered up. Slowly, Vessel takes it, lips twisted into an unsure grimace that he tries desperately to force into a smile. "They will be fine without you for a little while."

Vessel is silent for a moment, indecision warring within him. He takes a bite of the apple, expecting to taste his heart on his tongue. It tastes like ash instead but there is a phantom pulsing between his teeth that Vessel tries to ignore as he swallows his half-chewed bite with some difficulty. The juice that spills over his lips tastes faintly of iron, and Vessel nearly gags at the memories. He does not remember the apple tasting this vile. He remembers it tasting good, a taste of the divine, so why is he getting nauseous at the pulsing he feels behind his teeth, why is he tasting iron in his mouth, why can't he just eat the damn apple-

"Alright."

The hand holding the apple drops to rest limply at his side, its clear juice dribbling on the ground. For a moment, it flashes crimson to Vessel's eyes, but between one blink and the next, the vision is gone.

"Wonderful, my First. How about I show you some of my language? I have been meaning to teach you." Sleep's voices lighten, anticipation swirling around  Vessel's mind with every word He says.

"I will eagerly absorb anything you wish to teach me, my God." Vessel says, excitement beginning to bubble up to the surface, shoving aside the chill beginning to creep into his veins.

"I trust you will not forget what I have taught you this time, once you return?" Sleep queries as Vessel begins to walk forward again.

An old oak piano comes into focus in the distance, in the same clearing Vessel had been in before.

"I do not mean to forget. My tired mind betrays me."

"You, too, are asking for your holy duty to be revoked?" Sleep bites out, and Vessel cannot move, not when there are inky tendrils winding up his legs, locking them in place.

He is reminded very suddenly of what he'd done to the third of Three's murderers, and can feel anxiety setting in.

Vessel wants to refute the statement, to assure Sleep that Vessel would never think to question Him and his orders. And yet, II said that Sleep did not completely disregard his request.

"Perhaps." Vessel murmurs, gaze low and locked on the ground, shoulders hunched in submission. "I- I am very tired, my God. Every time I come here, and return, I try so hard to remember what you've told me... More and more I feel the information slipping away before I can write any of it down."

Sleep does not speak for a moment, the tendrils around Vessel's legs slowly receding despite the silence. "I will... consider it. The Second has previously informed me that a lack of sleep is somehow damaging to human minds. Still, I am... hesitant to let you rest, my First. I gave you far too much of my essence when I made you a vessel. I do not know what unfiltered access to my realm would allow you to achieve."

Vessel smiles, a small, hopeful little thing as Sleep releases him fully. "I am forever grateful for your consideration of my request."

"Of course, my First. Now come, there is much I wish for us to talk about." Sleep coos as gently as He is able.

Vessel sets the apple down on the top of the piano, only a single bite taken out of it. Then, he begins to play, fingers pressing the keys to the same tune he had played for II and III days before.

III had just been coming inside to grab a water from the fridge when he heard it. A thud had sounded from somewhere in the silent house, and at first, III thinks something had fallen over. Or perhaps the old house was just making the usual noises...

Then, he realizes Vessel's bond is distant and fuzzy around the edges but- The bond isn't an empty void. III doesn't understand, doesn't take more than a millisecond to move past the strangeness and instead worry over Vessel's safety.

They take the stairs two at a time, checking first Vessel's empty room then knocking on the door of the altar room to no avail. They fret for a moment, knowing Vessel always worships alone. III sits in his panic for a second, feeling II's own alarm and the vaguely fuzzy feeling from Vessel's otherwise tranquil bond.

The click of the lock turning over is all III needs to barge into the room, not noticing how a stray vine moves away from the door, having unlocked it for him. He fears the worst, fears seeing Vessel covered in his own blood in front of the altar table like a sacrifice to Sleep himself.

III's heartbeat pounds in their ears as they find Vessel on the ground with blood on his arm, hearing the front door slam closed in a rush. There is blood dripping off the altar, too, a small pool of it gathered on the floor next to the offering plate.

They do not hear the other heartbeat as it echoes their own, pounding in the wall as their knees slam hit the ground. Their spider-like hands hover over Vessel's body, caught between checking Vessel's pulse and Vessel's only rule. Fuck, III has to get rid of these first, they think, taking in the sight of his thin arms and fingers.

III can't seem to concentrate enough to get rid of them, tears threatening to fall at the worry and frustration they feel. They don't hear II entering the room, only noticing he's there when his knees slam into the ground beside III. He's sweaty from being outside in the heat, working on the car.

"I don't know what's wrong- I- I heard a thud and felt the bond go... weird. It felt weird-" III tries to explain, frantic, eyes wild in distress.

"Three, sweetheart, he's okay. Sleep has taken him to His realm." II says gently, trying to calm them, carefully avoiding looking at III's arms.

"Could He not have waited? Warned him? Vessel could have been hurt- Or- or hit his head-" III spits, finally letting their tears, once out of concern and now out of anger, fall.

"Looks like he did hit his head, actually. His jaw, to be precise." II interrupts softly, voice tinged with contained anger as he brushes a careful thumb over Vessel's jaw.

There's a bruise forming along Vessel's jaw as they sit him up, already turning purple. His eyes are closed, almost appearing asleep but the bond doesn't exactly feel that way.

"He often gets hurt. The only thing we can do is find him quick enough afterwards, check for any serious injuries, and get him comfortable."

II detests how ragdoll like Vessel has become, his strength allowing him to pick up Vessel's dead weight easily. III fixes Vessel's head so it rests on II's shoulder as they maneuver Vessel's body out of the room.

"Sleep should at least warn him. There's no good reason not to!" III complains on the short walk to Vessel's door.

II agrees wholeheartedly, with just as much indignation on Vessel's behalf though not quite so exclamatory. After II gets Vessel placed down on his bed, he gathers Vessel's journal and a pencil, placing it on the nightstand so Vessel has easy access to it when he comes back. II leaves to clean up the mess of scattered flowers in the altar room, entrusting Vessel into their care. Pinching his lips shut, III gets to work on bandaging Vessel's arm. Blood smears on their thumb as they work, and III freezes, a faint tremble kicking up in their hands. The black and red fluid swirls against III's skin unnaturally, never mixing even outside of Vessel's body.

III turns their head, a hand coming to hold their mouth as they fight back nausea. Glancing over at Vessel's arm, blood still sluggishly leaks from the cuts, and III steels his resolve. They make quick work of cleaning the wounds and bandaging them, trying desperately to ignore the trembling of his fingers that makes the work more difficult. III curls up at Vessel's side afterwards, clutching Vessel's hand, tracing the golden cracks on his arm in attempts to memorize them. Eventually, to distract themselves, III pulls out their phone without letting go of Vessel's hand, not really processing anything they're seeing. II comes in to check on Vessel periodically, bringing III a mug of tea at some point, sweetened to III's tastes.

It is four hours later when Vessel blinks his eyes open, disoriented. He sits up and III follows, watching as Vessel grabs the pen and pad quickly, turning to a blank page and starting to write immediately. The page fills quickly, Vessel writing in a frenzy, a single-minded focus.

III looks on sadly, lips pinched as they wait patiently for Vessel to finish. He thinks Vessel looks exhausted.

"Did I break anything?" Vessel asks, finally, after a long period of silence, worried that he had done something wrong with no knowledge of it.

Sleep had taken his mind before his body even started to fall, but Vessel isn't sure if he was holding anything.

III frowns, taking in the strange distance that has crawled slowly into the bond, like Vessel is slipping right through III's fingers. Perhaps his mind did not properly return from Sleep's realm.

"Nothing was broken, lovey." III insists, "You've a bruise along your jaw. Does it... hurt?"

Vessel's tired eyes widen slightly in surprise, reaching up to finger the bruise stretching across his jaw. "I did not notice. I get injured quite often when Sleep calls for me. I suppose I'm used to it, now."

"You shouldn't be. I hate seeing you get hurt." III mumbles bitterly, reaching out to take Vessel's hands in their own.

Vessel cannot bring himself to answer, can feel his will to talk diminishing with every errant thought that he has made a mistake, that he is failing those around him. Vessel is tired. He wants to rest.

"The flowers...! Did- Did I mess up any of the flowers?" Vessel blurts as the thought strikes him, gripping the blanket laid over his lap tightly.

"Quite a few of them were squished." III admits softly, "Its alright, though, I'm always growing more."

Vessel shakes his head, a little more present, tears welled up on his lower lashes, "I- I did not mean to- I love the flowers you grow. It means the world to me when I'm gifted some. I would never purposely ruin any of them- I can grow you more, I promise. I'll grow the exact same ones if you'll show me what they look like-!"

Vessel's pleading expression only further cracks III's heart into pieces, "No, Vessel, really, its alright!"

Vessel's lips thin in distress, tears slipping over. "I- I do not understand why you are not upset with me."

"I care more about your safety than I do about some flowers. You mean more to me than that." III says gently, reaching forward with both hands to carefully cup Vessel's face with his fingers threading through his hair more than anything, to avoid his jaw.

Tears slip around III's hands as Vessel cries, III's voice so broken as he says, "You scared me."

Vessel lets out a choked sound that could almost be a sob, "I know. I'm sorry. Sleep doesn't usually warn me. I- I didn't realize it would startle you this badly."

"I was angry, too, when I found you. You'd gotten hurt because Sleep didn't have the decency to warn you." III says as II walks in, trying his best to be quiet so as to not disturb their conversation.

He's a silent presence that climbs onto the bed and presses himself to III's back, a comfort III appreciates. II's arms wrap around them, hands reaching out to lay on Vessel's thigh so that II is touching both of them.

"I'm sorry." Vessel repeats, not knowing what else to say.

"Its not your fault." III insists, lifting Vessel's head up enough that III can look him in the eye.

Vessel can only manage a few seconds before he has to look away again, but he still leans into III's hands, feels more tears well up when II reaches over and places one of his hands over III's as he says, "We love you, Vessel. You know that, right?"

Vessel is silent for a time, choked up on emotion. He knows they love him to some extent, they've made very sure he's aware of it. Vessel just knows it won't last. Vessel isn't worth enough for it to last.

"I know." Vessel smiles, and its filled with all the shattered pieces of his heart held together by futile hope that maybe they'll stay with him, maybe they'll continue to love him.

Futile hope that maybe they won't leave like everyone else before them.

::

Vessel's exhaustion continued to worsen with every time Sleep brought him to His realm, without a care for where Vessel was at the moment. II had explained bitterly that it was a common thing for Vessel to get injured, for his mind to come back worse off than when he left, and to witness it... III understands II's growing displeasure with their God. To claim to care for Vessel and then do this... Vessel does not need another abuser in his life, especially not one in the form of the God he worships.

Their worry only grows as time passes, and the circles under all six of Vessel's eyes grow deeper and darker. As his mind seems to wander, becoming listless as he struggles to focus. Where before he would stay up and play whatever video game III owned, or write, or read, he could no longer focus long enough. His coordination seemed to begin failing him as his mind struggled to keep track of his own limbs, knocking hips into furniture or tripping over air.

That was not even to mention the tar that seemed to settle over his bond. There was a constant stream of self-loathing on the edges of the other vessels awareness as Vessel fought to keep it from traveling that small distance to where their soul's tethers connected. The dark pit of sadness in Vessel's chest only widened, and it felt fitting that his chest felt as empty as it was.

He couldn't seem to muster much of a smile on his best days, not even at III's worst jokes which always caused one side of his mouth to tilt up without his permission. Now the only way they could get a genuine smile out of him was when they kissed him. Despite Vessel asking them to stop requesting a kiss, III continued to do so just so see the pretty pink flush that would spread over Vessel's cheeks. It never failed to bring a subconscious grin to Vessel's face when they kissed him, so they made sure to do it often just to see it when it had become such a rare thing. The Second and Third were trying their damndest to love and care for Vessel, but ultimately, they didn't know how to help him.

Vessel wanted to die.

Wanted to tear into his own throat and give his God his voice box, his tongue. Sever his hands and feet and offer them up so that his God could make use of his skill with instruments. Sleep already had his heart, Vessel is sure the God could make do with his other parts as well. If Sleep cannot, then Vessel is willing to give his entire body, his broken mind and whatever withered scraps of his soul remain to be used as a puppet. If Vessel's body can manifest the God on it at all, who is to say he cannot also house the God in that body?

Vessel wanted to die. Needed to rest, needed it so badly Vessel fears he's going to go mad with his bone deep desire for a calm mind and a rested body. He tried hiding his worsening self-harm, but the bond made it difficult, and even despondent as he was, Vessel was trying so hard to be good for the others. III was angry, so often now, and Vessel fears it is at him.

The gentle kisses and loving touches helped to refute those negative thoughts, but still, he wonders if III will leave him soon. He cannot give them his mind at this point in time, let alone his body. They do not take from him what they want, they do not use him as his past partners would have.

Vessel's entire world seems to be crashing around him no matter how hard II and III try to hold the pieces together. He just wants to sleep, he knows if he can just get some rest, then he'll feel better, well enough to function. To do his duty as the First.

He doesn't dare beg his God for such a blessing.

::

Vessel has just come from Sleep's realm again, trembling hands holding a cold mug close to his face. The mug was III's, coffee made for Vessel with care, just the way he liked it, that he couldn't finish before it got cold. The house is quiet, Elvira nowhere to be seen as III works on his garden and II struggles to figure out what's wrong with the car. It had been making worse noises recently, enough to garner concern over it breaking down, and II had hoped to be able to fix it before they inevitably have to travel to town to meet their band manager. II still hadn't told Vessel about that, and doesn't dare even entertain the thought right now. The man will just have to fucking wait until something changes in Vessel, for better or for worse.

Vessel isn't sure what happened. He had been sipping from his mug quietly, mindlessly staring out the kitchen window at III in their garden without really seeing what the other was doing. Vessel could manage a tiny smile every once in a while when III would look up as though making sure Vessel was still there, but couldn't quite wave back when III would acknowledge him.

He doesn't notice when III stands up, wiping sweat off their brow and setting their tools down. He doesn't notice much of anything as a wave of dizziness swamps him, sending black spots across his vision. He hears his name called and startles. Disoriented, Vessel is vaguely aware of the mug shattering on the ground as his vision goes white, grey-knuckled grip tight on the counter to hold his vertigo addled body steady.

Hands taking Vessel's own brings him back to himself. III is patient, slow circles rubbing over his knuckles as they wait for awareness to creep back into Vessel's mind and over the bond.

Vessel blinks to clear his vision, finding III crouched in front of him. When did Vessel get on the ground? His legs feel weak, maybe they gave out when he let go of the counter?

Vessel can't bring himself to look at III, six eyes roaming down to the shattered pieces of mug around. III lets his hands go when Vessel pulls them back to dig nails into his arms. III immediately tries to take Vessel's hands back, but Vessel won't unclench his hands from around his arms.

"I'm sorry. I'll clean it up right away." Vessel promises, quiet and meek and perhaps a little slurred, head falling down to avoid accidentally looking III in the eye.

"N-no, wait you don't- Ves! Please, you don't need to-"

Vessel is already picking up the broken pieces of the cup with his hands. He remains completely still otherwise, tense and clearly afraid. At first, III tries to take the larger pieces, but Vessel won't let him and III fears hurting Vessel in the process. III rushes off to find the broom and dustpan, desperate to find them before Vessel hurts himself, he tugs on the bond shared with II, wondering why the other hasn't come into the house yet at the distress from the bonds.

"Shit, shit, shit!" They mutter, panicked brain trying to remember where they last saw the cleaning supplies.

When they find it, they rush back to the kitchen, more careful this time of the noise they make.

Vessel has cleaned up the bigger pieces by that point, picking at smaller shards of glass with his fingers, the nails helping pluck them up. His hands are bleeding sluggishly, dropping red onto the floor and the broken glass.

III tries sweeping up the rest of the mess before Vessel can hurt himself further, and he's not even sure if the other man is aware they're doing so based on the peculiarly vacant expression on his face when the mess is no longer directly in wrong of him. They try their hardest not to stare at the blood, to get caught up in their own head, but his hands still shake at the crimson staining Vessel's hands.

"Ves?" III asks, kneeling in front of Vessel when they're done and no more glass remains on the floor.

Vessel very slowly looks up, tears held in his lashes that are not allowed to fall, and he looks stricken, expecting. III hates that they know what Vessel is expecting.

"I'm sorry, Ves. I didn't mean to scare you." III whispers, holding Vessel's bleeding hands in his own, feeling nauseous as their finger slips through some of it, smearing red on III's own hands.

Vessel's head tilts to the side, expression still off, unsettling. III doesn't know if Vessel heard what they'd said. II stalks into the kitchen, worry clear on his face. He's sweating from being outside, a little out of breath. There's a bruising knot forming on one side of his forehead. At the scene he comes upon, II chooses to remain silent and go find one of the many medkits hidden around, seeing III with it handled.

"I made the mess. Why did you help me clean it up?" Vessel whispers, confused.

"You were cleaning it up with your hands, Ves. That was glass. Your hands are bleeding."

The confusion does not leave, only grows. III can't bring himself to look down at the blood dripping down Vessel's fingers as their own hands tremble.

"I made the mess." Vessel repeats, "Why aren't you mad?"

"I'm not mad Ves, because it was just a cup. I scared you, and you dropped it. Things like that happen." III assures, keeping his voice at a lower volume intentionally.

"I don't understand. I- Broke something. Why- Why didn't you hit me- Why aren't you mad? I broke something, I deserve it. I don't- I don't know how to handle not being hurt- please- Please, just hit me so I can have something familiar. So I'll know how to act." Vessel repeats again and III wants to sob, wants to break the arms and shatter the bones in the hands of those who dared-

"You broke something. It happens, Sugar." III stresses, voice thick with emotion, "I would never hit you over something like that, or anything else, for that matter. Not even if you ask me to. You made a mistake, that's all."

Vessel breaks out into silent, hitching sobs. He reaches out towards III, wanting to feel his touch. He is truly beginning to realize that it is gentle when he needs it to be. When III is rough, it never hurts like Vessel is used to. III won't even hurt him if Vessel begs...

Sometimes, when Vessel was being ignored... he wanted to be hurt. He wanted the attention. Anything was better than the way he was feeling, even if it meant pain.

III reaches back eagerly, letting Vessel pull them closer until their chests nearly touch, Vessel's forehead coming to rest on III's shoulder. It takes time for his shaking to cease, II returning with the med kit. III glances at II in alarm when he notices the plaster on II's forehead. Wide eyed, III tries to ask if II is okay with just their eyes.

'I'm fine.' II mouths, looking about as miserable as III feels, and hesitantly, III accepts the answer.

Not a one of them are fine right now.

Vessel bites his lip, a fang digging into the soft flesh and drawing blood easily. "I'm still sorry. For getting scared, and breaking your cup."

"It's just a cup, Sugar, I can get myself another." III assures, reassured himself with Vessel so close.

"Remember, sweetheart, you don't need to apologize for your reaction to things unless someone else gets hurt." II reminds Vessel, resting his hand on Vessel's head.

Vessel doesn't say anything, bond still distant, unfocused, but he appears more present than before.

II's concerned frown deepens, "Three, love, why don't you go get Vessel's injuries taken care of? I can clean up the rest of the mess."

"No-! I- please, Two, I- I don't want you to go." Vessel tries not to beg, he really does, but he is tired, and afraid, and he just- he just wants his lovers near him.

"Alright, my love, I won't leave. We'll just clean this up later. Do you want to go to your room, or the living room?" II acquiesces easily, keeping his tone as light and loving as he can.

It is easy to convey his affection, it is not so easy to stifle the rageloathingmisery in the bond, but II manages for Vessel's sake.

"Your... room, please? Or Three's?" Vessel starts, but then immediately starts backtracking, "No, no, never mind. My room is fine."

"Alright, we'll go to my room then. Might I... ask why, though?" II feels as though he shouldn't even ask, but Vessel's exhausted mind is answering their questions more readily than usual.

He feels a little bad for taking advantage of it, but there is still so much to learn about Vessel, II thinks.

"Wanna feel closer to you both." Vessel admits, nearly a whisper, as both II and III help him up off the ground. "Helps me feel better."

III sniffles as they smile, pressing a kiss into Vessel's hair. II does the same on Vessel's other side, letting it linger for a moment longer than III's did.

Helping Vessel up the stairs is slow, as slow as the man has been these past few days as his sleep deprivation symptoms worsen. II and III never falter though, remaining steadfast at his side. Vessel appreciates it, appreciates them, with every bone in his body. With his very soul. He wishes he was coherent enough to convey that to them... and still, he fears their inevitable departure.

When they get to II's room, II gets right to grabbing his favorite blanket and wrapping Vessel up in it, turning him into something resembling a burrito. It brings a smile to Vessel's face, nothing like what they're used to, but a smile nonetheless. Vessel isnt quite sure when he had been maneuvered onto II's bed, isn't sure when his clothes had been changed for him and his hair brushed. He can't recall any of it, only remembers staring at the pretty fabric of one of III's jacket thrown over their desk chair. 

"You haven't gotten that startled in a while, Sugar, what's wrong?" III asks gently, placing a band aid over one of the little cuts on Vessel's hand.

The question itself startles Vessel again, and his head whips to stare at III as if realizing he was being spoken to. An embarrassed flush rises to his cheeks, and Vessel knows he must look so pathetic. He has been so useless ever since he promised not to kill himself. If he'd known this is what would happen, that the others would be forced to care for him this way, then Vessel never would have made the promise in the first place. They will surely leave him. He is too much, he cannot even give them his body, and they do not seem inclined to take what they want.

"Tired. I'm tired." Vessel replies, so quiet III barely heard him as his flush calms down. "Can't focus. I- Sometimes it's like I'm not even here, like I'm floating away into space and I'll never return to my own body. I have not felt this way in some time, and I am afraid."

"I thought it was because I was sick, but I'm better now and still, I'm so tired. Sleep is... He is upset with me, I know it. I cannot retain anything He shows me in His realm." Vessel continues, a new wave of tears building up and threatening to fall. "I... I'm disappointing my God. I'm failing Him. I need rest but I will not be granted the luxury."

"Have you asked Sleep to let you, well, sleep?" II asks, braiding Vessel's hair back for him.

"He said he would consider it. I am not hopeful. He said there may be consequences because I am the First and He gave me too much of himself."

"Consequences be damned. This is wrong to do to you." III practically hisses, putting another band aid on one of Vessel's fingers.

III finishes up quickly, watching in distracted fondness as Vessel basks in the affection II is desperate to give him. As he's putting the med kit away and changing into cleaner clothes, III decides he has had quite enough of this. Of watching Vessel slip through their fingers even if he's right in front of them. Two weeks of this fucking nightmare and III has had enough. Today was the last straw.

II is running a gentle hand through Vessel's hair as he lays mostly in II's lap on the bed. Vessel's eyes are closed, surrounded by dark circles, curled around his plushie and wrapped in another blanket. III isn't sure they've ever seen Vessel so small, even when he was sick. As though he would shatter to pieces with a strong wind. It breaks their heart.

In all the time III has known him, Vessel has never looked properly rested. Does Sleep even know what a lack of sleep does to a human mind? Vessel is showing all the signs of someone severely sleep deprived, aside from the lack of hallucinations. The sight makes III livid, an emotion clearly echoed in II, carefully kept away from Vessel's notice lest he thinks their anger is directed at him.

II catches III's intense gaze right before he leaves II's room. There is a raging blizzard in II's eyes as he holds Vessel close. With a jerk of his head and teeth bared in a mix between a snarl and a smile, II sends III off with a clear message.

Give Sleep hell until He fixes what he has broken.

III stalks with purpose to the altar room, closing and locking the door behind him. A match is lit quickly, and the motion are practiced as they light all of the candles except the red one. Then, III takes the ritual knife, golden bladed, and drags it across the inner part of their forearm, right below the curve of his elbow.

His own blood, crimson red, spills into the offering plate. It reminds him far too much of when he'd caught Vessel when Sleep resumed the First's visits to His realm. The sight frightens him, but his resolve is steel and III came prepared. Once a small pool has gathered in the offering plate, III presses gauze to the wound until the bleeding stops and then wraps a bandage around it. Hopefully, it won't scar too deeply. III had tried to keep it shallow but still deep enough for a decent amount of blood flow. Maybe his arm will match Vessel's in some sick and twisted fashion.

The thought only makes III more angry.

"Sleep, I am offering my blood to you as the First does. Let him rest. Even a couple days a week would do, at minimum. He can't keep living like this."

The red candle lights up with a burst of golden light.

'Is that a demand, Third? Are you demanding it of me?' Sleep laughs, a harsh, grating thing.

"I am. If you care about him, you'll let him sleep. Do you even know what happens to human minds that cannot find rest?" III growls out, any respect He held for Sleep is currently put to the side in favor of what matters most.

'None of you are entirely human anymore, my First even less-'

III cuts Him off, their own words just as biting, "Twenty-four hours awake leads to drowsiness, lack of concentration, fatigue. Thirty-six hours leads to impaired memory, difficulty learning new things, more mistakes. I'll tell you right now that Vessel has been suffering on and off from these symptoms the entire time I've known him, but never quite like this."

III continues, "I don't know what Vessel was doing to keep his symptoms at bay, but he should have been showing signs of sleep deprivation psychosis only a week into being made a vessel. Whatever magic is at play here, with him being a vessel for you, the God of Sleep, is keeping him sane enough to function for now. Whatever it is he was doing, he's clearly stopped. But how long until hallucinations start? The depersonalization? The psychosis? I am not letting that happen to him. He has been through plenty as it is, and I refuse to watch him suffer anymore under the heel of something that claims to care for him."

'Leave.' Sleep commands, furious, presence bearing down on III's body like a ten ton weight.

He crashes to the ground, groaning at the impact. III plants their hands on the floor, nails digging into the wood flooring, and pushes with as much strength as they can manage. "He asked me to hurt him today! I will not leave until you-"

'Leave me be this instant, Third, or I will rip your soul from its shell and send it into oblivion.' Sleep seems to take a deep breath, and when next He speaks, it is marginally calmer. 'I will grant your request but do not dare speak to me again until it is with the due respect.'

An invisible force crashes into him, and III goes soaring out the door to the altar room that they know they closed and locked behind them. They brace for impact as best as they can, but find it wholly unnecessary as the vines along the walls reach out and grab him, cushioning his body as best as they're able.

The vines that had wrapped around them loosen, slowly lowering III the rest of the way to the ground. For a moment, III is tense, a powder keg about to explode. He's so fucking angry, his blood is alight with it. Clawed hands dig trenches into the floor as III focuses on breathing through the fury setting their veins on fire. Sleep couldn't even give III five minutes to try to convince Him- Wait.

Sleep- Sleep is granting III what he had demanded. He listened.

"Three! Holy shit, Three, are you alright?  Are you hurt?" II practically shouts from his doorway, blue eyes wide and wet in terror as he scans III for injuries at a decreasing distance.

Vessel creeps up behind him, face twisted in worry, arms wrapped around himself in a hug that keeps the blanket securely wrapped around himself. Even now, he looks utterly exhausted, just one millisecond away from passing out for a full week to get any sort of rest.

The sight of him washes away III's rage in an instant, instead being filled to the brim with relief and a sense of victory, and they open their mouth to speak. Only, they cannot open their mouth at all. Cannot make even a sound, not a hum or a cry. Every attempt only brings pain, as III reaches up to prod at their mouth with a probing finger. There is something sealing his mouth shut, like stitches, and yet the texture is different.

Immediately, III knows what has happened.

Sleep has taken his voice for the disrespect shown. Sealed his mouth shut with the same tendrils that had wrapped around their bleeding arms during their devotion.

Seeing what has been done to them, II reaches forward with gentle fingers, trying to carefully help III's mouth open to no avail. It only brings III pain, so II stops quickly.

"... did He listen?" II asks quietly, hopeful but so sad, so angry at what has been done to the Third.

III cannot smile, cannot grin ss ferociously as they want to, but their triumph shines in the blue of their eyes anyway.

"Let's go to bed." II offers, turning towards Vessel as III gets up off the floor without any of the pain he expected.

The vines really saved him some agony.

"Vessel, my love, III is alright. Let's go lay down, okay?" II pulls Vessel along by the hand slowly as the other follows stiffly.

Movement seems to be difficult for him right now, so III wraps an arm around Vessel's shoulder to help him walk. The sad, confused smile Vessel gives him is worth III not being able to vocalize how much III adores him.

"What did you do to make Sleep so angry?" Vessel asks as II and III pile around him on II's bed.

His eyes drift closed once, twice, as drowsiness settles into his bones so easily once he's laying down. "We'll talk about it once III's punishment is revoked, Ves." II speaks up when III turns wide, panicked eyes to him once Vessel manages to mumble out his question.

Too exhausted to really think straight, let alone properly question II, Vessel can only nod. His dull eyes light up when III brushes a thumb over his lips, trying to ask for a kiss. III leans over Vessel to press his lips to the First's, and though he cannot move his mouth, the action alone is enough to make Vessel smile.

Wrapped up in II's favorite blanket still, Vessel lets III lay their head on his shoulder. II kisses III, too, before kissing Vessel goodnight.

III is utterly exhausted. They demanded something of their God, and Sleep did not obliterate him for his audacity. He can only imagine what Vessel must be feeling without any sleep in years. III lets his eyes slip closed, the first to fall asleep. II follows, arm laid over Vessel's stomach to hold onto III's arm. Its a tight fit for all three of them on the bed, but none of them would ever dare trade it for anything else in the world.

In the wee hours of the night, Vessel lies awake, cuddling under the blanket further, begging for rest that will not come. The sound of II's snoring beside him is a comfort much like III's warmth at Vessel's other side. There are no nightmares to eat and for that Vessel is glad. He is unsure about even using the ability, now that it has caused his body to change again.

His body begs for rest, and yet he knows it will not come. It is a familiar feeling, and so he thinks nothing of the tiredness weighing him down.

Still, Vessel's eyes slip shut. He forces them back open, squinting up at the ceiling before letting them slip closed again. Between one moment and the next, Vessel slips into sleep.