#time for me to get back into this fic methinks

[basicallyahedgehog]

Unfinished Everyday

Thank you to the wonderful @floydig for the tag, and @wolfpants for starting this wonderful train. Read their snippets here and here.

The last time I touched this doc was a literal year ago - 26th April 2022. It was one of two drarry fics I started writing before I got swept up in the world of fests and I've never been back to it. I may have shared part of this snippet before, but I honestly can't remember. The fic is a non-linear, 8th year/post war, cottage-core, get-together/established relationship fic with chronically ill Harry.

Half an hour later, the muscles were no longer jumping under his hand, and the tension between Harry’s eyebrows had eased enough that he thought it safe enough to move onto phase two. 

Carefully, so as not to disturb Harry more than he already was, Draco slipped out of the bed, tucking the covers back around his husband. Padding through their little cottage, Draco paused to grab his dressing gown from where it laid haphazardly across the back of the sofa. Yesterday had been a good day and well, they tended to discard clothes a lot more readily on good days. 

He really should have seen this coming, Draco mused. Harry’s health had been better in the last month than it had been for almost a year, but Harry had a tendency to push himself. There had been produce to harvest, jams and chutneys and pickles to be made. Even now, their small kitchen was full of this autumn’s work, jars littering every surface and garlands of onions and garlic hanging in the windows. 

Then there had been the Halloween party for the children’s ward, bonfire night, multiple birthdays… Harry hated that he had to say no so often, Draco hadn’t had the heart to slow him down. 

Now though, he regretted not being just that little bit firmer. Made Harry rest just that little bit more often. But he hadn’t, and now his husband was reaping the consequences.

No-pressure tagging @phoebe-delia, @phdmama, @makeitp1nk, @thesleepiesthufflepuff, @geesenoises and whoever else wants to share :)

[devilishdelights]

thinking…….

[vagabond-umlaut]

you kiss the back of my legs and i want to cry

only the sun has come this close, only the sun

gojo satoru x wife!reader; tooth-rotting domestic fluff; gojo LOVERBOY™️ satoru; you aren't any better than him [but less poetic abt the predicament]; tw: pregnancy, 1 tiny mention of throwing up; satoru calls you 'cookie'; and he redefines the word besotted here; his thoughts are also a little yandere-ish but tht's cute, methinks; 2.3k wc; i just wish satoru was real and in my arms rn T-T

belongs to the series 'you make my heart flutter and fibrillate' but can be read as a stand-alone fic if you wanna

the fic title and summary don't rly hv a very strong connection to the fic plot— except the fact they fit both satoru's & reader's characters in this series to a tee ^_^

fic title and summary from 'gps' by shauna barbosa // header frm pinterest // divider by @/benkeibear // jjk isn't mine

you are clingy.

always have been, in fact, now that gojo thinks about it. long before the two of you were married. long before you were engaged. quite a long time before the two of you were anything apart from friends at best, acquaintances at worst.

yet now, as he feels a pair of arms squeeze tighter around his middle, not really still very much squeezing the air out of him— your husband reckons you've grown loads clingier now—

and he loves you for this. loving you even more when he feels kisses being pressed into the space between his shoulder blades.

soft lips, a tad chapped. not without the shy grazing of your teeth.

just how he likes it.

very much how he adores you.

affection, settled deeper than should be feasible into the hollow of his chest, flutters a little when you nuzzle into his back; that pleased little hum of yours quick to follow it. smiling, gojo turns his head a touch to catch a glimpse of you. it takes a beat before you remove your face to lock eyes with him, before returning your face to his back.

he huffs a chuckle, sounding incredibly fond all the same. his feelings for you can never be suppressed anyway. time has proved this to him enough number of times.

he runs a finger down the length of your arm, relishing how it leaves a line of goosebumps in its wake—

"you wanna tell me something, cookie?" your husband finally asks.

your reply doesn't come immediately. and when it does, it is nothing more than a noncommittal noise. too spoiled. too stubborn. a bit too satisfied as well, the emotion further expressed when you nuzzle his back yet again.

gojo's smile grows bigger. his cheeks hurt a little.

he thinks he can live forever with this kind of pain, not even a sigh of complaint ever leaving him.

"aha—" he exclaims loudly, still soft enough to keep the quiet of this sweet bubble you've pulled you both into, "so it's just my irresistible charm that's making you so clingy tonight, hm?"

another beat passes.

and just when he thinks he might have to do with another one of your indistinct sounds for an answer, you speak. to be more precise, whine and grumble, everything so sweet in your adorable voice.

"it's not me being clingy, 'toru— it's the baby— the baby is making me so clingy. making me feel as if i can't live even for one second without squishing you like thisss!!!"

the first reaction your tightening grasp brings out is the wind getting knocked out of his lungs— the second reaction being all that oxygen, nitrogen and carbon dioxide being replaced by a feeling so fierce and so tender— the strongest thinks his knees would have buckled under its weight had he not been lying down but standing—

not that he really minds that, though.

for you, he's always on his knees. whether you ask it of him or not. the only light in this world he is willing to bow his eyes before.

it takes him not too much effort but gojo makes a point of struggling whilst he shifts in your hold. and grins when he finally comes face-to-face with you, drinking in the way your brows are puckered and lips a little parted in an incredulous expression.

his grin simmers down however, when his six eyes notice the spark in your tummy. so tiny. so blinding. so priceless— to him and you both— he knows this, surer than he is of the scars on his palms.

thumbing the hem of your t-shirt, he hums, dragging his eyes back to be drowned in yours, "how many weeks along are you, wifey?"

"satoru," you start, voice turning sharper and just as skeptical as your face was, still is— only to be shushed by a finger to your lips. the man addressed feels his heart skip a beat at your confused big scowl— it's got to be a crime to be as cute as you— really!!!

he pinches your cheek lightly.

"it isn't like i don't remember that, cookie. i just wanted you to say it— c'mon, tell me quickly!" he presses, noting then utilising the moment your face begins to lose its cynical hue over his words.

the scowl lingers there however, twisting your delectably pretty lips—

"nine weeks," you say, hooking a leg over his waist to pull him closer. can he be any closer to you, though? your answer is always a yes, he knows you well enough to know this.

"thirty-one weeks more before we meet our baby."

it's not exactly thirty-one weeks; it's thirty weeks and five days before either of you can meet the baby, but gojo decides not to point out the error. you always hate it when he points out your tiny errors and make a point of snarking about it every time he opens his mouth to speak a word next— the man is wary not to upset his wife, yes, thank you very much.

he offers a sage "hm" in response, one he observes you accept slowly. the scowl lifts itself into a curve so fond— gojo thinks once before he vaults his next query your way. not wanting to see that smile vanish in front of him—

the ask won't cause anything so. but he can never be too sure. he has read too many books and articles to not grasp how fragile pregnancy hormones can make one be.

he tucks a strand of hair behind the shell of your ear.

fingers tarrying there when he sees you lean into his touch— not akin a moth to a bright flame, no. he can never hurt you. not even for once in his wildest dreams—

but how the north pole of a magnet hurries towards the south pole of another magnet. so different in their nature, a perfect pair of opposite crafted by the nature— maybe that's why nothing can ever stop them from rushing to each other once they're proximated, the lines of their mutual attraction existing even when thousands of miles apart.

just like you and him.

contrasting, complementing, completing each other every instant, in every facet of life.

he lets his fingers dance through the tangles in your hair, unravelling the knots in there. that pleased little hum of yours reaches him once again.

stowing the sound away, later to be placed on a pedestal in an ornate glass case as the most valuable praise ever given to him for his effort, he runs a gentle hand, nails scratching your scalp carefully.

"and at nine weeks old, just how big might our baby be?"

"i think there is a chart comparing our baby's size to fruits..." syllables unhurried and a pinch mumbled, you press your heel to draw him in a little more. "i did not really read that too attentively— oh. but. yeah!" a grin forms on your features, sleepy still twinkling in excitement.

"shoko sent me a link to this website earlier today— any ideas, 'toru, what it might be about?"

gojo does have an idea. he has a very, very good idea.

but he chooses not to say that aloud. you look so extremely adorable when you are being this excited. he would hate nothing more than to see your amped up self getting interrupted by him.

he shakes his head. your grin brightens. eyes crinkling with a glint, he can tell even without looking, is knowing.

the tips of your fingers caress his bare back, softer than a breath. "it's about when our baby forms which organs— our baby's eyes are being formed now!!! isn't that too cute, 'toru?"

"it is, cookie," he hums without any hesitation, six eyes activating one more time to zero in on that teeny-tiny spark. then deactivating when he looks back up to your sleepy eyes. a terribly tickled, equally wicked glimmer creeps into his grin. "so our baby is just like a tiny ball of cells with two big blue eyes, huh? they must look so scary, heh— ouch!"

your pinch did not really pain him, but gojo does his best to mimic an awfully wounded puppy, sogging wet from the rain and waiting at the doorstep with his moving blue eyes— it takes less than three seconds before you let go of your glare with a sigh.

you massaging the sore spot on his arm, your husband watches you give yet another sigh.

"first of all, there's no guarantee our baby will have your eye color and not mine, 'toru," you explain, pinning him under your drowsy stare, "it is very difficult to predict that for sure— and secondly: i'll punch you if you ever call our baby scary— sure, they don't really look like a human in this moment, but they'll slowly get there in forty weeks— as per the website, their face, hands and feet are forming in the ninth—"

"okay, alright!! i get your point, my insanely smart, insanely beautiful, insanely sexy wife," gojo cuts in, smiling while warning bells chime in his head at the faintest gloss in your eyes—

but maybe they weren't noisy enough. that is why he doesn't bite his tongue, rather continuing, "but you weren't actually blaming our poor human-ey baby for your clinginess, were you? it's not like they have a telepathic communication set up with you— hell, maybe they haven't even started forming their brain!"

"the baby's brain starts forming by the fifth week, satoru," your quiet reply reaches him exactly when he gets his last giggle out. the moist sheen in your eyes grows more prominent.

and his insides begin to twist—

one-third helpless. two-thirds contrite.

you don't stop talking, tone lower than he has heard you use in nearly forever, "and you better not comment on my bond with our baby— i'll punch you twice if you—"

"i wasn't doing that and i promise to never make you feel that way, my cutie-pie cookie," gojo interrupts, voice far gentler than earlier, just as low as yours, "but feel free to throw me out the house if i ever do that, even accidentally. okay?"

you're not okay.

you never are, when it comes to you being actually harsh to him, even when he's the one asking you to be— shakespeare once called love to be blind— your husband doesn't think you're blind, however. it is your well-contemplated decision to see his mistakes and see each of them as excusable, perfectly pardonable, no matter how silly or serious the world might regard them to be—

you make a noise. somewhat annoyed. unhappy too, yeah. before you push your face into the crook of his neck, nose nuzzling into the flesh there.

you would have bitten him by now. but he reckons you might be a bit too tired for all that. you couldn't even finish your dinner before facing the urge to throw up tonight, yet again.

feeling sorry, almost, gojo resumes his ministrations to your hair, half because you need to fall asleep now; the hands on the clock are close to striking midnight. the other half because he just loves playing with your hair— only to still when you suddenly pull your head back.

brows furrowed as you peer at him, eyes big and earnest.

"you don't really mind when i hug you like this, do you, 'toru?"

"no, cookie!! of course not!!" the man wastes not even a breath before he rushes to explain— because seriously, what!??

sure, he wasn't the first one to fall between you two. but ever since he did fall, he has never not expressed how every second away from you, every fraction of an instant away from you, causes him pain.

and yeah, he might have been a tad too dramatic whilst doing so, but you've always been so good at reading him— then why on earth can't you read him now? why don't you read, he loves it when you seek him out, he loves you more than anyone and anything else??

"good," your satisfied little chirp gives him a light shove away from his frantic thoughts. something tells him he should be put on alert by the way your lips curve into a smug smile next.

but gojo finds himself uncaring. just immensely relieved as he trails his fingers from the back of your head to your chin. thumb reaching out to brush the corner of your infectious smile. you continue.

"but even if you did mind, sorry not sorry— you were the one who put the ring on my finger, so you have to deal with everything i'm, mister!! no refunds nor complaints can be filed here, gojo-san~"

and neither refunds nor complaints he wishes to file, satoru muses to himself as he cups your cheek in one hand. bending down to steal the taste of your beam, your tease, your love for him on his tongue—

not when he has received the world in exchange for letting go of that poor splintered mess of a heart, he used to call his, but is now yours.

and will always stay yours—

"hey 'toru— what will you do if i chomp on your fingers right now, like really hard? will you yell? or will you be the freak that you're and enjoy it, huh?"

gojo pauses.

and wonders.

is there any binding vow one can make to secure oneself to another in every lifetime, for all eternity?

he hopes there is.

your husband really, seriously hopes there is—

'cause no way in heaven, earth or hell, does gojo satoru want to let go of you— and he will not let go of you.

this idea was ROTTING in my brain for ages, but wht gave me the spark– the boost to write this was the wonderful sukuna fic written by ari @twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat ❤️❤️❤️ i seriously love u & ur writings sm, babes 🥹🥹 everyone pls go check their masterlist out. it's studded w diamonds and pearls 😌😌🥰

and this is also for my sweet & sour bestie mimi @avatarofstars 🤭🤭— u 🤝 me in being clingy af towards our fictional hubbies 😂😂🥰

hope this was an enjoyable read! pls don't plagiarise, translate or repost this ❤️❤️

masterlist

[syrupgirl]

warnings:

descriptions of blood(like fr), mentions of death, i call neteyam’s injury ‘a hole in the chest’, my very limited knowledge of medical procedures(both human and na’vi), me changing the severity of his injury probably, that’s it methinks?

a/n: this one just fell out of me. a fix it fic if you will.

Lie si oe Neteyamur -Neteyam

“You cannot rush this, daughter.” Your mother says as she strokes your head.

It has been days since the battle. Many lives were lost, even more injured. And as selfish as it is, you mind would not drift away from one person.

Neteyam.

-

You had been in charge on taking care of the injured that were brought back to the village. Being a Tsahik in training, you mother deemed it essential to have experience in real conditions to feel the pressure you would be carrying until you passed on the status to the best Tsahik.

After countless gruelling hours of tending to the wounded, you heard your name being called from the shore. After passing of your patient off to your partner, you down ran to the beach, only to be greeted by a sight you never thought you would have to see.

“Neteyam?!”

Sand kicked out from under your hurried feet as you approached Tsireya who had a bleeding Neteyam attached to her side.

“H-he..He was shot! It went straight through h-him.” The poor girl was hysterical. The blood of her friend covered her hands and even some of her stomach.

Neteyam himself looked terrible. His complexion was blanched and his eyes could barely stay open. Across his chest, he looked to be wrapped in seaweed, probably to stop the bleeding. You guessed that once you undid the bindings you would also find sea moss plugged in the wound as well. Curtesy of your sister, you guessed.

As much as you wanted to curl up and cry until you couldn’t anymore, Neteyam didn’t have that time. Right now, you weren’t Neteyam’s…friend..You were the one in charge of saving his life, in charge of his healing, and, if all went well, his recovery.

“Here, give him to me, I will take him to our marui.” You shouldered his body and he groaned. “Yes, yes, I know and I’m sorry.”

Neteyam didn’t seem to be capable of conversation but keeping him conscious was your top priority until you could get your remedies.

It was a struggle up the shore but you made it, with Tsireya stumbling behind. You lay him down as gently as you could.

“Neteyam? Neteyam, can you hear me? It’s yn.”

You spoke to him as you checked his body for any other injuries. Anything that would make it more difficult to deal with the hole in his chest. Nothing turned up so you continued to speak to him.

“Neteyam? I’m going to unwrap your chest now, it will hurt but I need to to stay with me, okay?”

He was awake but you had no idea if he was actually hearing anything you were saying. With a deep breath, you slowly started to unwrap his chest.

You weren’t ready for what greeted you.

The tight wrappings had slowed down the bleeding but there was still so much. It covered your palms and wove itself between your fingers. You heart was beating out of your chest and you got closer and closer to his naked chest.

Neteyam was moaning and muttering above you but you didn’t want to take your eyes off his injury.

“Tsireya? Is he still awake?” You asked your sisters, fingers still working on the makeshift bandages.

“Uh..uhm.” She knelt down closer to his face. “Yes, I think h-he is.”

“We need to keep him with us, as much as it will hurt him, we cannot risk him slipping away.”

Tsireya nodded and started to try make conversation with him. “Your brother still needs you, he is lost but he needs you to bring him back.”

You felt yourself tear up at her words. It was not just his brother who still needed him.

After discarding the seaweed in a pile, you came face to face with the bloody mess. Fortunately, it didn’t seem to be bleeding as much as it was before and just like you thought, there was a large clump of sea moss packed around the wound. You picked it up as gently as possible and the boy above you jerked.

“It- it hurts!” He whined and you put a hand gently on his shoulder.

“I know and i’m sorry but it is what needs to be done.”

He didn’t respond after that but kept whining in pain and wriggling slightly.

“Tsireya-” your sister looked up and you handed her a tightly woven basket, “-fill this with water.”

She nodded and takes it from your hands hurriedly. You use the sea moss to clean up the sight as much as you can before putting is next to the seaweed.

In record time, Tsireya ran back to your side, handing you the basket now filled to the rim.

“Thank you, sister.” You said. You brings your hands up to her face and she closed her eyes. “Be calm, he will live, i’m sure of it.” She meets your gaze again and sniffs. You try to give her a reassuring smile before turning back to Neteyam.

With the basket in hand, you shuffle up next to his shoulder. As slowly as you can, you tip the container forward and watch the water wash into the hole in his chest. The blood melts off of him as the water takes its place.

Neteyam sounded like he was downright sobbing and you hear Tsireya whisper to him, “Be still, Neteyam. You are in good hands.”

You hoped she was right.

-

It had taken many hours of tears and screams but you had managed to bring Neteyam back to where he was stable. He now rests in his family’s marui like he has been for days, surrounded by the love of his family.

And as much as you want to see him, you know better than anyone how important family is in times like these. They need space.

“You did a great thing, without you, my love, the loses would have been so much greater.” Your mother is known for her stone cold resolve and tough exterior but you wouldn’t have it any other way. She loves you and your siblings in her own way. “I feel so proud knowing I chose you to take my place as Tsahik of this village once I return to our great mother.”

“Thank you, mother. It is a great honour.” She smiles down and you and holds you closer.

-

That night you cannot sleep, opting you go for a swim, a now common occurrence since the battle. You lie of your back, floating on the surface and looking up to the sky. You remember your father telling you that Jake Sully was from one of the distance stars. How fascinating.

Small waves lap underneath you. A small light shoots across the sky. Everything is still.

Well it is until someone dives in next to you.

You’re so surprised, you slowly a mouthful of water.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.” It’s Lo’ak’s voice you hear while dying cough out all of the water from your mouth.

“It is okay,” You splutter, turning to face him. “Why do you come to me, Lo’ak?”

He looks down into the water and it is silent for a beat. “To thank you. I should have done it sooner and I apologise, but I just couldn’t..couldn’t-”

“Leave him?” You interrupt him and he nods. “I understand. After something so major, your family needs to heal. That includes you.” The sound of lapping water fills the silence between you.

“That’s not the only reason i’m here.” He continues. You look up to him again, slightly confused. “Neteyam, he has been asking for you.” Your eyes widen a little. “While our parents aren’t around, he asks us where you are and how he still has to thank you.”

It’s a bit sill, but you can feel small tears well up in your eyes; he’s been asking for you?

“Since his..injury, he has been moved into a separate marui to heal and he asked if I would bring you there.”

Now you feel like laughing; this whole time while you have been aching to see him, he has been feeling the same.

“I would like that, Lo’ak.” You sniffed and Lo’ak grins.

“I had a feeling you would.”

-

Before you reach Neteyam’s marui, Lo’ak decides to go back to his family’s marui. You try to insist that he joins you but he flat out denies and just grins while he walks away.

When you arrive to the doorway and look inside, you see Neteyam sitting up against the side of the dwelling.

“Neteyam?” His head immediately spins your way and there is a big smile on his face. It is contagious.

“yn, it’s so good to see you!” He whispers as you kneel next to him.

“How are you feeling? Should you be sitting u-”

“I knew that would be the first thing you ask me.” His smile gets even bigger and again, you match it.

“I’m sorry, force of habit.” You both chuckle. “Was there any reason you wanted to see me?”

“I want to thank you, for saving me.” You are about to tell him that you were just doing your job but he keeps going, “I was..I was so scared. I felt like a little kid again. But when Tsireya brought me here, to you…I knew that I would be okay.”

“Oh Neteyam…” Your eyes well up with tears and Neteyam out his hands on your cheeks.

“I’m sorry, i didn’t mean to make you cry.” His thumbs caught the tears that rolled down your cheeks.

You suddenly wrap your arms around his neck. “I have been so worried for you Neteyam…” Your words are muffled against his skin and he can feel the vibrations echoing up his neck. Neteyam hesitates, before wrapping you up into his embrace. Silence blanketed the two of you, interrupted only by the sound of your occasional sniffles and the waves breaking against the beach.

Neteyam is the one to finally shatter it.

“While I was out there, I fought as hard as I could…To defeat our enemies, yes, but also…I knew that, whatever happened, I had to get back here,” He brings a hand up to your face that is still planted in his shoulder and lifts it gently. “I was so scared…”

Your eyes flutter close and another tear slips down your cheek, down past your quivering lips.

“But when Tsireya brought me here, to you.” A smile weaved itself into his voice and you looked up to him. “I knew that I was going to be okay.”

Neteyam looks like he is crying now and you can’t bear it.

“Oh Neteyam..I’m so happy that you’re okay.” You lean forward and rest your forehead again his.

“The great mother is not ready to meet me yet.” He chuckles and you let out a watery laughter with him.

In this moment, all is well, all is calm. He is here. With you.

You wouldn’t have it any other way.

Your dear Neteyam.

[pansy-picnics]

I love love LOVE that your Rapunzel has tattoos!!! They are so artistic!!! and so HER! What kind of tattoos do Eugene and Cass have? I think I saw some flowers and maybe a moon and sun but is that all?

!!! THANK YOUUUUU OMFGGGG YOU GET IT!!!! :33333 if anyone gives rapunzel access to tattoos and/or hair dye she will actually lose her goddamn MIND. I like to think lady caine hooked her up with her tattoo artist in like. the middle of a battle. i feel like that’s a very tts type gag.

AS FOR CASS AND EUGENE’S TATTOOS IVE HONESTLY BEEN HOPING FOR A CHANCE TO TALK ABT THESE FOR A WHILE….please excuse my HORRIBLE rendition of them i scribbled this in like 30 minutes. one day i’ll draw proper refs for cass and eugene but today is Not that day

first of all THEY HAVE MATCHING DESIGNS!!!! rapunzel drew out all of their tattoos and she made these two specifically to represent them as a trio….the birds being. self explanatory of course and the sun, moon, and earth representing rapunzel cass and eugene respectively….:3 this also was meant to kinda match the twins mobile i designed for my fic. These ones in particular are SOOO important to me

i’ve never shown cass’ properly since they’re on her back but one of eugene’s is visible here….along with the sun and moon you mentioned, the sun crest and the brotherhood symbol…..:3

AND CASS’ FLOWERS ARE MY FAVORITE ONE UNIRONICALLY BC IT HAS. Quite a bit more background to it. there’s also a sword wrapped in the vines thats BARELY visible in either of the pieces it’s shown in so i made it more clear in my doodle.

this one kinda has two different meanings…..you’ll have to excuse the fact that it’s COMPLETELY inaccurate bc i designed it from memory and i’ll finalize it eventually but this is meant to vaguely represent the fictional “minne” flowers mentioned in “rapunzel: day one”- which. Idk how well known this is but the meaning of minne historically is i shit you not, “chivalrous love”, or “a kind of romantic love between a knight and a noblewoman” and there is NOOOO FUCKING WAY THAT WAS A COINCIDENCE THEY KNEW WHAT THEY WERE DOING

THE SECOND ONE is just something i made up but the real world flowers that i’ve always associated with minne bc of their similarities are forget me nots…. which. the symbolism and name of i think are VERY fitting with cass’ character. she just really wants to be important and like. Remembered fondly by people methinks. like she’s afraid of one day disappearing and (in her eyes) there being no point or reason for her existence in the first place.

these are the only ones i have set in stone for NOW but most of my tattoo hcs for rapunzel came from just. Drawing her a bunch and adding new ones every time so i think they’ll probably acquire some new ones as time goes on, especially since i still need to actually finalize the ones they do have……but Yeah idk. i’m insane.

[cringe-but-proud]

PART 2 FOR THE MILES N READER SLEEPING IN THR SAME BED ITS SO CUTE I NEED😢

Y'all ask, I serve 💅

Miles Morales x Fem!Reader

You can read part one of the fic here!

A/n: First time doing a sequel fic 😈 My requests are open, as always. Sorry if I'm taking a while to get to them. My winter break recently ended, and I've got finals coming up, so-

Warnings: None, methinks.

The morning sunlight streamed in through Y/n's bedroom window. She slowly opened her eyes and was met with the sleeping face of Miles.

Their faces were mere inches apart, and his arms were wrapped around her, holding her close.

She felt her face heat up as her heart began to race.

There's no way this is actually happening.

This was both a dream come true and an absolute nightmare.

Did she like Miles? Yes. But, he was supposed to be her best friend! This wasn't supposed to be happening!

She had to do something. She had to slip out of his arms.

She slowly began to move her body away from his. For a second she thought it was working and then Miles pulled her back in, stirring in his sleep.

Please, don't wake up. Please, don't wake up. Please, don't wake up.

His eyes cracked open.

NO!

His eyes widened when he realized he was holding her to his chest.

For a moment they both just stared at each other, faces hot, eyes wide, in uncomfortable silence.

Suddenly they were both spouting out rushed apologies at each other as Y/n practically threw herself off of the bed and Miles sat up straight.

Once they both stopped frantically apologizing, Y/n sighed. "I'm sorry, I..."

"It's alright. I mean, it's not your fault."

"I know it's not... That sort of made it sound like I'm saying it's your fault. It's not your fault."

"Yeah, I know. I don't think it's my fault. It's no one's fault, we were both asleep, so-"

Y/n sighed. "This is weird..."

"It's not! Well, I guess we both kinda made it weird."

"Yeah... Sorry for freaking you out."

"You don't need to apologize! I mean, I'm only freaking out this much because I like you."

...

"What?" She didn't hear that right. He didn't just say that.

Miles seemed to not realize what he'd just said.

"You like me?" She asked.

Miles' eyes widened and he was even more flustered than he'd been when waking up next to you. "Uh..." God, he really wanted to go invisible and swing away right now. "Yeah... I guess I do." He hesitantly looked up from the ground, scared to see her reaction.

Y/n looked just as flustered as him. "That's-"

"I know, I know. I'm sorry, and I totally get it if you don't want me to come over ever again and if you don't wanna be friends with me anymore. You know what? I should probably just leave. I'm gonna leave." Miles rambled and he began to stumble toward her bedroom window to leave, but he was stopped by her grabbing his shoulders and making him face her.

"Miles, dude." She smiled at him, her face still hot. "I like you too."

He felt like he was frozen in place at that confession. "Really?"

"I thought it was obvious." She shrugged.

"I... Don't think it was?" Miles wasn't sure. Maybe it was obvious and he was just bad at reading signals.

"So..." She looked at him expectantly. Miles blinked, unsure what she wanted from him. "This is the part where you ask me out on a date."

"Oh. Oh! Yeah! Uh... Do you wanna, like... Go to the park or something? We could get lunch there?"

Y/n leaned forward and gave him a kiss on the cheek. "The park sounds great."

Miles was frozen in place again, smiling like an idiot after the small peck on his cheek.

...

"This is the part where you go home to get ready."

"Right! Yeah.. I'll go. See you later."

[savventeen]

hmm savv what would u do with mutual pining and woozi? :3c

daisy,,, beloved,,,,,,,,,, how dare you make me think about mutual pining w/ woozi ( /hj ) (i am already pining for him and thinking abt MUTUAL pining is going to drive me actually insane methinks g o d sdkjflskjdf)

ok so. SO. after vibrating in my seat and fantasizing abt lying down in the middle of the floor for the rest of time as i think about this concept, i have come to the following conclusion: mixtapes. and i mean in the classic "hey i made you this mixtape" sense

reader and jihoon are both producers for the same label and don't really interact that much at first. in fact, they don't actually even meet for the first time until soonyoung invites them both to his birthday party and they start talking shop, bonding over teasing soonyoung, and then ending the night with a promise to grab lunch together sometime.

fast forward a couple of months and they are officially Friends. they've managed to start a tradition of getting lunch together once a week and bitching about various work bullshit, and they've also started to hang out together in group settings after realizing they have more mutual friends as well

reader is the first one to send jihoon a song. it's a few hours after their weekly vent session, jihoon having taken up most of the time complaining about shitty higher-ups giving ridiculous deadlines and stuck-up idol wannabes trying to tell him how to do his job without having a clue about what his job actually is, and he gets a message from reader that says "i feel like this fits ur current mood" with a link to a song. [cw the song linked has a somewhat startling gun sound] he clicks on the link, curious, and then bursts out laughing after a few confused moments of listening bc that was NOT what he was expecting, at all

and that's how it starts, really. a few days later, he sends reader a song with the caption "how much u wanna bet soonyoung would choreograph something to this just bc it has the word 'tiger' in the title" / "no bet he absolutely would" / "ur no fun :P" / "sorry can't hear you i'm sending it to soonyoung as we speak"

pretty soon they're sending songs back and forth almost daily "what are ur thoughts on this" / "?? i don't speak french" / "and?" / "...ok yeah this is p good" "is this kinda close to the vibe you're trying to get for that one group you're working with?" / "not quite. but that's ok bc IM Vibin with this one" "i need u to stop whatever ur doing and listen to this with the bassist bass you can get with w/ ur setup" / "ok??" ... "holy shit" / "RIGHT?"

fast forward another couple of months, and reader shows up to jihoon's studio with a can of coke zero and a flash drive. "what's this?" / "this, my dear woozi-ssi, is going to be the solution to our creative blocks" and then reader goes on to explain their idea: they both have tracks that they're stuck on (personal, professional, or otherwise), and so they're gonna 'sisterhood of the traveling pants this shit' ('i literally have no idea what you're talking about'). aka: reader put some files they're having trouble with on this flash drive, and jihoon's gonna add any notes/ideas he has and then give it back with some of his own trouble files on it. rinse and repeat

and not only does it work ("ohmygod i've been trying to figure out that bridge transition for DAYS THANK YOU") but it also becomes Their Thing. like, they're used to collaborating with other writers/producers/etc bc it comes with the job, but something about this silly little flash drive... feels Special. [*cough*it's because they're catching Feelings*cough*]

tHIS IS GETTING SO LONG FUCK OKAY other things i would include in this fic: - one noticing the other has been working on a lot more love songs lately (or maybe a lot more Sad (read: pining) love songs) - reader has a bad day at some point and they end up losing the flash drive and they have a breakdown over it (jihoon comforts them and also helps them find it we love emotional hurt/comfort in this household) - scenes where they're individually waxing poetic about the other to different friends and the friends are like "bro. ur in love with them" "uh, no? they just have a great work ethic and a great taste in music also their lyricism is just—" "you. are. in. love." "i admire them professionally!

AND THEN THE CONCLUSION!! one of them decides to bite the metaphorical bullet and confess their Feelings. this could be either of them, but i'm gonna go with jihoon bc i can. so of course he can't just say "hey i love you" like a normal person, he has to confess through music. so he goes out and buys a new flash drive (with a really cute cover bc he knows they'd like it) and puts two folders on there. the first folder is full of instrumental files and is titled "all the times i couldn't find the words". and the second folder is titled "and all the times i could" and it's all love songs he's written inspired by/for reader

he sneaks into their studio and leaves the flash drive on your desk while you're in a meeting, and then he Waits and waits and waits some more until it's time to go home and it's been total radio silence and his heart feels like it's been crushed. so he starts to head home in the rain (bc i am a cheesy bastard and love rainy confession scenes) but after a few minutes of walking he hears shouting behind him and he turns to see you sprinting at him while screaming his name and before he can get a word out you're clutching his shoulders, soaked to the bone and asking "do you mean it? the songs, did— do you really mean it?"

and all he can do is nod because his heart still hasn't quite found its way back to his chest yet, and then he can't nod anymore because you're kissing him. you're kissing him, and he drops the umbrella he was holding and you're both kissing in the rain bc you're both obnoxious helpless romantics and "y/n-ah, i mean it— i mean it. i love you"

"i love you too, you stupid romantic bastard oh my god"

"hey, you're the one who started kissing me in the rain"

and it ends like the cheesy romcom this turned into bc i couldn't help myself and i need to lie down in a puddle of feelings now k thx

[send me a person and a trope/au and i'll tell you what kind of plot i'd write for them]

[milliemuus]

So, I have an idea ‘ending’ for the fic (not final but you can change some areas)

…and so, they live happily ever after (this is corny but you get the idea)

Well done.

Very, well done

I must say, I am impressed

Very, very impressed indeed

Tell me, why do you still persist? Why do you still fight?

…

…

…

Well, no matter, all good things must come to an end.

You, broke our little deal remember?

And I can’t let that slide.

…

…

…

hehhehheh…and even if you were to be freed…

Thinking your path is clear, freed from my grasp and end up living a happy life and redeeming yourself…

But no.

…

…

…

Tell me, do you know what happens to people who break my deal? What do they have all in common?

…

…

…

They’re all playing my game.

Their souls are all forfeit to me.

They all

are absorbed

INTO ME.

YoU canNOT UnDO WhAT yOu HaVE DoNE In the PAst

YoUr fatE WaS AlREaDy SEALed ThE mOMENt YOu lAId YoUr EYEs oN mE YeARS AgO.

NO MATTer HOw MANy TIMes YOu TRy to DENY It, YOu CAN’t RUn, YOu CAN’T HIDe, YOU CAN’T DENY IT.

SOON, YOUR SOUL WILL BE COLLECTED AND ABSORBED INTO ME, YOU WILL NEVER SEE THE LIGHT OF DAY IF YOU DON’T UPHOLD THE DEAL…

SOMEONE ELSE WILL PAY, AND I WILL MAKE SURE YOU PAY IT. SO, I WILL COME BACK, AND WHEN THAT DAY COMES,

YOU

SHOULD’VE

PAID

THE DEAL.

SO NOW, COME OUT AND FIGHT ME.

OR YOU’LL YOUR FRIENDS PERISH

ON THE DAY.

…

…

..

BUT FOR NOW, ENJOY YOUR LIFE…WHILE YOU CAN

…

…

…

…

…

…

…

…

…Kieran

hahahahahahaha…

Soon…very soon😈…

“GAH! Wha-what was that?” Jolting out of bed, Kieran now realized, just another nightmare. But this one seemed…different. But anyways. After a while. It’s been 8 months since the incident and he’s still recovering from it. Just then, his door was knocked on.

“Kiki, are you done? We need to leave now!”

“uh, coming sis!” Kieran hastily entered the bathroom and proceeded to wash-up. Little did he know, the digital clock that was in the floor showed:

10:25

OOOOOOGH, I LOVE THIS! I MAY OR MAY NOT IMPLEMENT THIS IDEA! IT COULD LEAD ONTO SMTH ELSE IF I EVER ADD ONTO PV ITSELF! I LOVE MOCHI MAYHEM WITH ALL MY HEART SINCE IT ALSO ATTUNES TO PV SO SEEING IT, ALONG WITH THIS, I COULD MAYBE DO SMTH! IT WOULD BE UNFAIR FOR KIERAN TO BE POSSESSED, AND TO HAVE LORE WITH SAID POSSESSION, AND TO NOT GIVE IT AFTERTHOUGHT!

THANK YOU SM FOR THE IDEA! KEEPING THIS ONE IN MIND METHINKS! YOU CAN ONLY RUN FROM YER DEMONS FOR SO LONG

[xticklemeemox]

The Love You Want: III, Part Five

Keep in mind for one part of this, Vessel using 'it' in reference to one of three's murderers is in no way intended to insult anyone who uses those pronouns!

murder vessel <3 not particularly gory, though i did intend to go that direction. my brain simply failed me when i got to the murder V part, even though i was so excited to get to it

also III's murderers use slurs against the lgbtq+ community as well as vulgar language in reference to the vessels. bear that in mind.

longest chapter to date methinks

Word count: 16,687

AO3 version

Previous Chapter

Next Chapter

Masterlist

Fic under the cut <3

III cannot breathe. The arm around their throat only grows tighter with every futile attempt to escape. Harsh, ragged breathing is hot against his ear beneath his mask, and III is filled with all consuming panic.

Their assailant is bigger than them, wider and more muscled and III can't wiggle away, despite their thinner frame. The man must weigh at least fifty pounds more than III, all hard lines behind him.

What is the point in being a God's Vessel if he cannot even get away from a human man, regardless of their weight difference?

III kicks their feet out, trying to drop all their weight so that man has a harder time continuing to drag them deeper into the forest.

"This should be far enough. Not that anyone would come looking for you anyway." The man mutters, kicking the back of III's knee in and dropping to the ground at the same time.

III hits the dirt covered forest floor, twigs digging into their face through the mask before that man turns him around, a knee placed into his lower sternum, holding them down. A hand is used to hold III's wrists together to his side, pulling on one shoulder painfully.

There's a flashlight in his eyes, blinding their vision with white. It burns, like III was staring directly at the sun. They cover their eyes to escape the brightness, vision going white.

"Stop fucking struggling." The man spits, voice familiar in a way III can't place as they contemplate their ability to lean up and slam their head into the other mans.

III only struggles harder, more desperate to escape from the man and his dark tone promising violence.

"Let me get a look at you before I knock your lights out, freak. I've been waiting for the chance to get one of you alone. It might have been easier to get the little one."

The flashlight is still in their eyes, he can't see. It hurts, it hurts. There is such anger in them, too, at the thought of this man getting ahold of II instead. It wouldn't have gone as well, III is sure. II is far stronger than III and Vessel combined. He could probably overpower this asshole easily.

"Don't." III begs, trying to push them away from him as the man continues straddling them.

Wrongness was building up inside him with every inch of those fucking fingers closing in on their mask, the flashlight held in that very hand, too. Despite the situation, III can't help but think the man has some amazing dexterity.

His face belonged to no one but the other vessels and their God. No one else is supposed to see him. No one. No one.

"Shut up!" He hisses, leaning in close so III can smell the foul odor of his breath, "Your weird little friends just showed up one day and became the talk of the town with those stupid fucking masks, then you join them. Y'all in a cult or something? Can't show your face cause of some false God?" III kicks his feet at the insult to those they love, his God, aiming for a groin, a knee, anything.

"Fuck off!" III snarls, earning a knee in the ribs for their snark.

III lets out a grunt at the contact, at the ache it brought. The knee remains, like before but worse, holding him down and making their breaths come in short pants at the pressure placed right below their sternum. The man on top of him was burly, with a cruel smirk that twisted his facial features into something hideous. He could've been attractive if his personality wasn't so fucking atrocious. Watching him above them, like a beast over their prey, III is reminded very suddenly of their death.

Tears gather in III's eyes as they realize exactly who is on top of them, at the sharp pain slicing through their head.

III knows him, remembers what he did. Remembers the kicks to his ribs and stomach. There is a face to the memories now, that III didn't have before. He feels sick, like something has shifted inside them that should never have been touched. They weren't supposed to remember faces.

Just as Sleep took the faces of the people who knew the Vessels Before, He took some of the sway they held over the vessels. Memories can be so much worse when there are faces to those who hurt you. They are more tangible that way, something real and not just a distant dream that could be moved past. III could pretend, before, that they would never truly be hurt by them again. They were wrong.

III's head aches, like someone was repeatedly hitting them upside the head with a sledgehammer. The pain traveled from his temples, to the back of his head, along their jaw, down into his neck and spine. It hurt, it hurt-

Sleep's presence is creeping up on him, a low chorus of voices getting louder with every passing moment.

You should not remember.

You should notremember.

You should not remember.

There is crimson in his line of sight, and III wonders if it is blood, but no, the man's shirt is just red. They're the passerby from earlier. They must not have been close enough for who they were to click but III is a mess at the realization.

III looks around frantically, begging Sleep for anything that could get them out of this. His bonds were a mess of confusion and desperation, fear that was not his own. II and Vessel must be worried and III hates that he's causing those emotions. He should never have left. Should've known something was going to happen. Should've stayed with them instead of letting their newfound fear of bloody red get the best of them.

YOU SHOULD NOT REMEMBER.

The man manages to grip the bottom of III's mask, inching it up as he laughs at the revulsion in III's gaze. "I just want a peek. You must be pretty, must enjoy letting those weirdo's of yours fuck you, huh? Everyone has seen the way you fags act around each other. Disgusting. God didn't create man to fuck other men, but I bet the little one would be a good lay. He's small, pretty eyes and everything. If I keep the mask on, it won't matter if he's ugly underneath. I might even be able to pretend he's a woman."

The mask is up to his chin now, baring a small question mark freckle by his mouth, III radiating fury as the wrongness inside of him screams to get the man off. Get him off. Shut him up. He disrespected everything III cares for. Something itches at his side, distracting him for a mere millisecond before their anger overtakes him again.

The thought of this man touching II with even a finger, of even getting within touching distance at all, makes them sick.

III is still struggling, wiggling in the hold pinning them down to the forest floor. For a moment, the hold on one of his arms is gone, and just when III thinks they've found an opening, a fist is slamming against their cheek, forcing it to the side with the power behind the punch.

It aches all around one section of their face, now, as another blow in the same spot causes stars to explode across their vision.

"Stop fucking fighting!"

Rage is heating his blood to a boiling point, III is bursting at the seams with it, his lifeblood is going to boil out of his veins, overflow his insides with lava, its going to burn them alive- Shut the fuck up. Shut up, shut up, shut up- don't touch him- let them go-

Sleep's presence roars in his ears, righteous anger burning them up from the inside out, his skin itches fiercely, something within them clawing it's way to the surface.

YOU ARE MINE. YOU BELONG TO ME. YOU SHOULD NOT REMEMBER.

His arm shoots out, but its not the two held down. Its different, spindly like a spider with fingers long and thin with clawed tips. It knocks the man off them, and III sits up, pulling his mask back down from where it rests on his chin hurriedly.

Sleep is pleased, still upset, still raging in the back of his mind along with their migraine, but when that man was knocked off of them, the God calmed some, possessively lingering in III's bones.

The phantom limb fizzles away in a waft of pitch black smoke, and III wonders if they've finally lost their marbles completely.

In the next second, a blur passes by him too quickly for his eyes to catch, warm hands reaching out and pulling them up and to an equally warm body.

MINE. YOU ARE MY THIRD. MINE. YOU SHOULD NOT REMEMBER.

Sleep whispers in their ear, a cacophony of possessive voices determined to make sure III remembers who holds their soul in hand.

III looks up through blurry vision, relief filling them immediately at the soft touch. "Two. You're here."

"We came as soon as we felt something was wrong. I'm sorry we didn't get here sooner, he dragged you pretty far and we don't know the area that well." II explains, an arm wrapping around III's back to pull them closer, a hand cradling their head so gently against II's chest.

His heartbeat under III's ear is soothing, a slightly fast pace, strong, clearly telling of II's distress, of his relief in the bond, of them running here to help III.

"You came for me. No one ever- No one..." III cuts themself off.

III lets himself cry, salty tears glimmering with golden specks soaking into their mask, knowing that II would never hurt them. He came for him, II came for him. No one came for III when he died. No one helped him.

"Of course we came for you sweetheart." II soothes, visibly checking III over for any injuries but ultimately unable to tell due to their clothes.

"Vessel?" They asks, questioning where the other man is.

Did he stay at the car? Is he here somewhere-?

There is a resounding thud, a groan, and III moves their head from II's neck to try and look, but II shakes his head. A grunt of pain sounds from where II urged III not to look. III looks up at him with wide, confused eyes still leaking tears, and there is a hardness in II's gaze that III has never seen before, a fire heating up the blue, darkening it with II's anger.

II is watching Vessel, tracking every movement, taking no action to stop the other from whatever it is he is doing, is going to do. He felt the pain in III's bond, the strange sense of realization and the terror that followed, just as Vessel had. Anything Vessel does to this man will be well deserved.

Vessel stands over the man that had attacked III, all six-foot-something pulled up to his full height, usually hunched over to appear smaller. The lines of his mask seem harsher with his fury as the man attempts to push himself up from where Vessel had knocked him back into the tree, regaining his bearings after III had knocked him away just seconds earlier.

"You motherfucker!" The man yells, holding his head where a slit has opened up, dripping blood into his brown-colored eye.

"Silence." Vessel commands with a hiss, the tip of his split tongue peeking out from his mouth, fangs on either side, and the mans mouth falls shut with a click, staring up at Vessel with wide eyes, pupils mere pinpricks.

II and III have never heard that tone from him before.

"Do not touch them with your tainted fingers, ever again." Vessel growls, low and menacing, leaning in with a snarl so that his and the mans face are mere inches apart.

The man begins to get up, mouth curling back in disgust, a hand against the tree to balance himself. Another shove from an invisible force knocks his head into the tree with a loud thunk, a dazed expression falling over the mans features as he slumps over, body slipping to the side to the forest floor.

Vessel holds him down without any problem, vines growing out from the forest floor to wrap around the mans wrists and ankles, pinning him much the same way he pinned III earlier.

"Please, Vessel, can we go home? I want to go home." III begs desperately, clutching II to himself tightly, sick satisfaction twisting in their gut at his assailants pained groans.

II tightens the arm wrapped around III's back, pulling then impossibly closer.

Vessel reigns in his ardent rage, forcing a calm sea into his thoughts and across the bond. His anger still simmers, low but scalding where his heart should sit. It surges through his blood, the red and the black lit like a fire, his nerves aflame. Every atom of his being longs to just kill the man.

The thought should scare him. Vessel doesn't think he was ever inclined to hurt anyone, let alone kill someone, Before. He supposes now that he finally has people who show him care, he'll do anything to protect them.

Vessel reaches down to the mans temple, ignoring his angry cussing and slurs, and with little thought, puts him to sleep with the barest touch of his claw. Vessel fights back his nausea, not willing to let himself puke.

Vessel turns, leaving the man pinned to the foliage covered floor without a second glance, crouching before III and II. All six of Vessel's eyes soften, his eyebrows furrowing beneath the mask in fondness as he cups III's cheek.

III hisses in pain and Vessel retracts his hand hastily, an apology falling from his lips hurriedly. Guilt makes his insides squeeze, biting his lower lip harshly with a sharp fang that cuts skin, blood welling up.

"Not you, promise. He got a couple hits in before you both arrived." III explains, reaching out desperately for Vessel's hand as the man's gaze turns murderous.

He moves to stand, to turn right back around and stomp that fuckers face in, but III has taken Vessel's hand in their own again, pulling it up to rest Vessel's palm on their uninjured cheek.

III is shaking, small trembles every few seconds.

"I want to go home." III repeats, and Vessel shares a brief look with II before nodding shortly.

He stands, and II and III follow. Vessel squeezes III between them as they walk away, an arm around their shoulder, hand brushing II's shoulder as they walk. The gas station comes into view in minutes, and Vessel is pissed the man had managed to drag III this far in and had been able to hurt them before he and II got there.

III asks II to pick up the restroom key they'd dropped and return it, and II does so, leaving and coming back quickly to find III wrapped around Vessel like a koala, pressed against his back with their head on his shoulder. II smiles, a sad little thing tinged with surprise that Vessel is letting III that close without his usual layers.

III stays like that till they arrive at the car. Vessel hops in the drivers seat, putting the seat all the way back so he'll fit as II and III pile in to the back seat in a mess of limbs.

Vessel takes his cloak off of the back of the passenger seat, tossing it back onto III who still trembles, turning around to pull out of the parking spot when II starts spreading it over them as best he can.

Despite II's questioning gaze, Vessel pulls into a parking space outside of a phone shop. Without a word, he goes in and buys the best ones on the market with little thought to the price. The workers, a little intimidated, do not ask many questions as Vessel's tone, and the aura of danger surrounding him leads them to get him in and out of their shop as soon as possible. As Vessel signs his name on the needed documents, the words blur to his vision. His hand writes out letters in what he knows must be his usual cursive, but his eyes do not register the letters. Sleep graciously wipes much of the workers memories and fuzzes the security cameras, muddling them so they can't quite recall the name of the person who had just bought three expensive phones, instilling in them an unwillingness to investigate. Vessel is grateful for the intervention, sending that gratitude down the bond as Sleep's presence looms at his shoulder. The God is upset, lingering in the car with them after Vessel hands over the boxes containing the phones to a confused but accepting II and III. The papers containing their phone numbers is handed over as well.

'He isn't supposed to remember.' Sleep murmurs in Vessel's ear as he drives, and his knuckles turn white against the wheel.

'The Third is in pain. You were not meant to remember.' Sleep says softly, a gentle breath against the shell of Vessel's ear.

'How do you know, my God? Did they tell you?'

'No, he is unintentionally screaming of his hurts downthe bond we share.'

'Is there anything we can do?' Vessel asks, gritting his teeth and trying to focus on the road, not on the gentle murmur of voices in the backseat.

'You asked me once if I would tell you the names and faces of the humans who murdered the Third.'

The implication is there, and Vessel comes to the correct conclusion easily.

'Do I need to kill them?' Vessel glances at II and III behind him in the rearview mirror.

Their new phone boxes lay unopened in their laps, II nuzzling his nose into III's hair after they took their masks off. III is crying softly, still, head buried in II's shoulder, face barely visible past the loose strands of blonde curls that have fallen free of their bun. They are staring at II's hands, the way II's fingers caress III's knuckles with such gentle care.

Vessel does not allow his envy to overpower his rage. II and III matter far more to him than his own feelings regarding the two. Someone hurt III, put their grubby paws on him. If III wants to take comfort in II, when Vessel knows they've been growing increasingly closer, then he will not let his envy consume him.

'You were going to ask me to assist in ending their lives, were you not, my First?' Sleep asks, and when Vessel does not answer, only nodding imperceptibly, He continues, 'Their deaths are not necessary, no. I'm sure it would bring you great satisfaction to give justice to the Third. I can take their faces from the Third once more, and there is no chance of anything like this happening ever again, if you take their lives. The pain should dissipate regardless. I recognizeyour interminable need to temper their ailments. Decide soon, My First. The Third continues to be in pain.'

Vessel is quiet the entire ride home, contemplating if he really has the conviction to do something so drastic. II helps III begin setting up their phone sometime during the drive, and then when that is done, does his own phone. Vessel wordlessly hands his own phone box back, and II sets up Vessel's. Its quick work putting all of their phone numbers into their respective phones, and III is glad for the distraction of downloading apps or fiddling with games he may potentially like, head leant on II's shoulder. The pain doesn't abate, not in the slightest, but III feels its slightly easier to manage when they are so clearly cared for and safe in II's arms.

Vessel is quiet when they enter the manor, a wraith at their heel. Elvira tries to paw at his feet as he follows II and III up the stairs, so he picks her up, cuddling into her soft fur. She hangs limply, tail flicking back and forth as she lets Vessel do whatever he wishes.

Vessel lingers at the door, arms hugging himself, unsure how to help. Unsure what to do. Items in the room start to slowly, slowly lift from where they were placed, hovering gently.

When Vessel notices, they plop back down with quiet thunks. He stares at them, head tilting minutely to the side. With a little concentration, a stray pencil on III's desk beside the door begins to levitate, turning in a slow circle before plopping down quietly. Vessel thinks it must be his gift from eating the apple of Eden. For eating his own heart that has become divine after offering it up to his God. He wonders if he, too, has a weapon like II's battle axes.

II turns III's lamp on when he urges them to sit on their bed, crouching to pull out a medkit from under III's bed, and Vessel gets his first proper look at the purple blooming across one side of III's face. Anger surges through all three of their bonds, a raging hurricane that Vessel tries to reign in. His automatic reaction is to shut it down. So he does.

III lets out a pained whine as II snaps, not with anger, simply frazzled, struggling to keep his volume level, "Vessel, you promised!"

"Give me a second. I- I... just, please. Give me a second, I'm sorry." Vessel grits out, forcing words out of his mouth despite the tightening of thorns around his throat, crossing the room quickly and taking III's hand as he kneels in front of the bed beside them.

III and II were his. Vessel didn't care if they loved him or not. He loved them. As long as that love still lived in his soul, they would be his and he would protect them. III had been hurt. It was one thing for III to tell them that he had been hit. His anger had already consumed him at that time, what was a little more? Calmer now, to see what the asshole did to III... Vessel would take his hands for daring to touch what was Vessel's.

It's time to make a request of his God, one he knows will be granted.

"Shouldn't have let you go alone despite your insistence. I'm sorry, Three. I'm sorry." Vessel blurts, leaning his masked cheek on III's thigh, tears falling onto its inside surface and over the edges of the eye holes as he turns the bond back on.

Elvira starts up a purr, enjoying being pressed into Vessel's chest. Such an odd little cat. III tries to reassure Vessel despite the aching in their jaw, a hand coming to rest on his head and stroking gently over his hair and mask straps, but it is II speaking up that gets Vessel to calm some, "We won't go into town alone anymore. Groups of two, no one wanders off alone. It's clear now that it isn't safe. Our status as vessels is simply too dangerous a moniker, even if regular people don't know exactly what we are."

"He killed me. That man. I know it. He was one of the ones that killed me. I'm not supposed to remember his face but I do. He- Fuck. Fucking shit. It hurts." III whines, using their available hand to cover one side of their face, one side of their ribs beginning to itch.

There is murder in Vessel's six eyes at the admission, tears still leaking from his eyes. It merely confirmed what his God has already claimed, but Vessel is livid at the words falling from III's own lips. The way they had broken off in a pained moan, the way Vessel has truly taken a moment to focus on the pain down III's bond. Vessel has thought it was from where III had said that piece of shit hit them. That pain is there in the bond, but something darker lingers behind it, deeper in their veins.

"I agree with you, but this time it wasn't entirely just a random civilian. He had killed me." III finally responds to II's earlier statement, utterly miserable, the itch beginning to become unbearable as II leans into III's space, setting the first aid kit down nearby and wrapping them in a hug.

"Fuck. I wanted to be accepted." They sob, wiping furiously at the tears spilling angrily, despairingly, down their cheeks, "I wanted to be accepted and Sleep has doomed me to turn into a monster-"

II pulls them closer, letting III wrap an arm around him. A hand is carding through their hair so tenderly, the other arm wrapped around his lower back to keep them close.

"You're not a monster, honey. Don't talk about yourself that way." II soothes as III continues sobbing, Vessel wrapping his arms around III's leg.

They hiccup, blubbering, "You didn't see me! You didn't see what I did, what came out of me. It looked like the arm of a spider, it was disgusting. I'm disgusting."

II tries to keep from stiffening at the thought, his fear of spiders seeping into the bond even as he tries so desperately to keep it away. III feels it nonetheless, physically and mentally, and lets out a low keen of distress as they try to pull away, a hand clinging to II's shirt. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry." They repeat, and Vessel is reminded very suddenly of himself.

He doesn't want III to feel that way, ever.

An arm emerges from III's side, startling all three of them. III shrieks, trying to move away but the arm simply moves with him, wisps of dark smoke trailing after the limb, clawing at their sheets and leaving deep slices in the material. Vessel watches, in some strange fascination and confusion, while II stumbles back, eyes wide as fear floods the bond.

Elvira scrambles out of Vessel's arms with a yowl, hopping out of the room quickly. Vessel doesn't even feel the new scratches on his hand, his bandages saving his arms from too much damage.

"Two, step out of the room for a second to calm down, please. It's still Three, not a spider. It's still Three." Vessel manages through the tightness in his throat as he notices II's breathing beginning to become labored and quickened.

II nods, unable to speak past his fear as he flees, sending strong feelings of regret and apologies through the bond so thoroughly it nearly drowns out his still present fear. Vessel can tell he doesn't go far, the door being left cracked open, and the slow sound of II sliding down the wall to sit just outside the room easily heard. II brings his knees to his chest, angry at himself for allowing such a stupid fear to upset not only himself, but also III. They don't need this right now. Tears slip down his cheeks as he tries in vain to lessen the tremble that has set into his bones.

Vessel moves to sit on the bed beside III, pulling them close and carefully avoiding the new limb more for III's sake than his own. "Two has a fear of spiders, this isn't your fault." Vessel tries, but III is quick to cut him off.

"No, no, Two is going to hate me. He won't want to be around me anymore because of this." III sobs quietly, also aware II is still near, clutching Vessel's shirt in hand with a tight grip.

Vessel shakes his head, "Two would never be so quick to leave you, Three. Have some faith in him, he cares for you. It will just take time for him to work past his fear. I've always been the one to remove any of the spiders in the house. He scared me half to death the first time he found one here."

"I have given you a gift, my Third." Sleep says, voices bouncing off the walls as their presence emerges from the darkness, no longer lingering at Vessel's shoulder.

Their upset is clear in their voices, hurt and offended. "You ate the apple of Eden. This power is what was given in return for accepting me. In time, the Second will learn to get over his fear. He must, for I will not take my gift back. Learn to use your power, it is not all it seems."

"Okay, okay," III takes a deep breath that hitches once in the aftermath of his cries quieting, steeling their resolve, trusting in Vessel, trusting in their God, "I'm sorry, Sleep. I- I just don't know what to think right now. I'm... Scared. I'm scared, but- Fuck, I believe you, Ves. Is this what you deal with all the time? This insecurity that the people you care for are going to leave you?" III asks suddenly, peeking up at Vessel through their eyelashes. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked that."

The question throws Vessel off, unsettling him as Sleep's presence fades to the background as He leaves at Vessel's silent, reassuring urging in the bond. He didn't realize that III knew what his anxiety whenever they left the house without him was about. Didn't realize they knew one of the reasons why Vessel was so hesitant to let himself be open with the both of them.

Vessel reaches out across the tether connecting their souls and really lets III's emotions wash over him. The self-loathing and the uncertainty, the biting anxiety that seems to eat away at his body until there is nothing left but a broken shell. Vessel hates that III knows what that feels like.

"Yes, it's a lot like this." Vessel finally admits after a moment of silence, hoping III will drop the topic to save himself the pain of admitting something so deeply ingrained in his very soul.

"How do I get this thing to go away?" III asks after taking a few more deep, steadying breaths, the phantom arm moving slowly with III's direction, seemingly not needing to use his other arm to spur movement.

Its hand tightens into a fist, curling and uncurling before each finger moves individually to touch what seems to be the palm. Vessel takes a deep breath in hopes to loosen the fist around his lungs, squeezing and making it increasingly difficult to speak. He hopes he can stave off his impending silence a little longer. He has things he needs to do. People he needs to hear him.

"When I first used Sleep's sleeping ability, it took some concentration and imagining what I wanted to happen. Try to picture the limb disappearing the same way it appeared, beloved." Vessel cannot stop himself from saying the endearment, hates how easily it slipped out.

III doesn't seem to notice, doesn't say anything nor pull away from Vessel, only closes their eyes to focus. Vessel knows he will be punishing himself for the slip-up later, cursing his lack of self-control. III attempts to do what Vessel advised, and on the second try, the phantom limb seems to be sucked back into III's body in a swirl of thick black smoke. III sobs with relief, curling into Vessel's side closer than before.

"You did so well, Three! I'm so proud of you." Vessel praises, calling II in once he's sure the spider-like arm won't come back.

"I'm so sorry, sweetheart." II blurts desperately as soon as he enters the room, hovering by the door hesitantly. "I brought an ice pack, for your bruising. I didn't think any of our stuff in the medkit would work. It's mainly for cuts."

Vessel does not miss the apologetic glance II sends him, nodding in acceptance. Its not like II is wrong. III looks up from where his face is hidden behind Vessel's shoulder, forehead resting against the bone, and makes grabby hands at II. II sighs in relief, the feeling echoed through the bond, crossing the room quickly and shoving himself into III's space for a tight hug.

III falls onto the bed with a soft oof, letting II hold them however he pleases. A hand blindly reaches for Vessel, holding tightly to his shirt again, and Vessel lets a soft smile pull at one corner of his mouth. II holds the ice pack to III's cheek as he continues to wrap around them like a koala.

"'S cold." III mutters into II's hair, eyes closing as appreciation flows down the bond, "Feels nice though. Helping my headache a little too."

Vessel's gaze seems to sharpen at III's admission, reminded of the events of the day. "Try to get some rest, both of you." Vessel urges, moving to stand.

"You're not staying?" II asks, as III follows it up with, "I was hoping you'd sleep here again. Well, not sleep, but... cuddle? As much as you're comfortable with?"

Vessel couldn't refuse, not with the way II turns to look up at him with such shining hope in his pretty blues, and III turns his own blue eyes on him, widening them a little for effect. And effective it is, because Vessel caves in immediately. They welcome him with open arms and soft smiles when he returns with his usual heavy layers and a thick blanket, and Vessel returns that smile. Its small, but genuine, and Vessel is happy.

He adores them.

When night next falls, Vessel has some bastards to send to his God. Tonight, he will relish in the touch of the two people he loves most in this world, will plot revenge on behalf of one of them.

Later, cuddled up under the blankets and fast asleep, holding onto II tightly with their head tucked into his chest, III stirs. Vessel, becoming used to this, sits up, his own blanket slipping off his chest as he places his book down, eyes alert and watching III for any signs of distress. Sure enough, there is a pained crease between their brow and Vessel pulls the nightmare III is experiencing from their temple. Like every other time, it slips down his throat with ease. Unlike every other time, Vessel is a little breathless at the ecstasy the taste brings. He craves the nightmares more and more, and knows he should not keep eating them.

The night of his assault, III dreams of their death. Dreams of desperately watching people pass by the alley they had been dragged into. When they see who is being hurt, who is begging for help with their eyes behind the hand covering their mouth, they glance away. Some look as though they regret their decision as they walk away, others sneer with a twisted sense of righteousness. III is left in the hands of those who will kill him. They dream of all their attacker had said that day, and then it isn't just III being held down. Its II, writhing in agony under the grip of the only man whose face III can see clearly.

Vessel waits long enough after the nightmare ends to make sure neither III nor II awaken, then flees to his room to puke up his guts. Nausea roils in his stomach, a relentless churning of disgust. Hopeless and powerless in the face of III's suffering and the concern they feel for II. He knows who he's killing first.

Vessel paces his room for nearly an hour, clawing at his arms in his anxiety before moving to his thighs as the punishment he knows he deserves.

A thought strikes him and he continues pacing, wondering if he should even ask.

"My God? Are you near?" Vessel whispers in question.

He knows he could just tug on the bond in his chest to ask, but doesn't see the harm in voicing his questions aloud when he is trying desperately to keep his voice until he has done what is needed.

"I am here, dear First. Is it time?" Sleep murmurs, voices a low croon in his ear.

"Not yet. I- I am waiting until tomorrow-" Vessel stalks to his window, pulling the curtain aside briefly to see the barest glimmers of orange peeking over the treeline, "Ah, tonight. I have a different question. II has his battle axes, III their spider arms. Do I have a weapon, and is this strange ability to levitate objects mine or something I have accidentally borrowed from you?"

"Hm, levitation is not one of my abilities, no. It is entirely your own. I'd imagine it is not something so weak as levitation, but perhaps a telekinesis of some sort. Your abilities are a little harder for me to navigate. As for a weapon, you do have one. The Third will as well, with the appearance of their shapeshifting. Yours has been with you since your awakening as a proper vessel, you need only learn to conjure it." Sleep informs him, and Vessel is glad his God seemed to be so willing to share.

If Vessel asks, then his God will answer.

As Sleep speaks, Vessel grabs his own medkit that II insisted he keep in his room, wrapping his arms and thighs with fresh bandages after disinfecting the new wounds.

"I see. Thank you. I will get to practicing right away. If I cannot manage it by the time night next comes, I will kill Three's murderers with my bare hands." Vessel resolves in a quiet hiss promising violence.

Vessel leaves his hoodie on his bed, changing into clothes more suited for movement. A pair of his looser jeans, and a tank top under a t-shirt. A hairtie pulls his hair back into a sort ponytail to keep it out of his eyes, and Vessel clips his mask to a belt loop at his side. As he leaves the house, bending to pet Elvira on the way out the door, Vessel realizes he should let the others know where he is going.

Vessel finds II's contact in his phone easily, sending a message to him, and then repeating the process with III.

Vessel: Out in the forest, practicing something. I'll be back in a little while. :::)

After a moment, Vessel decides to change their contact names. He sets II's to lowercase letters, two i's to represent two drumsticks. For III's, he puts two question marks, with a third one upside down in the middle.

A familiar fog lingers on the forest floor as Vessel walks, a destination already in mind. When he wasn't in the house, reading or writing lyrics or spending as much time with II and III as they would allow, much of his time was spent out here in the woods. Branches reach down to brush his shoulders as he goes, catching his hair and letting the strands go before they can pull too harshly. Vessel's hand trails over harsh bark and through low hanging branches, feeling the energy of the surrounding nature. The forest seems to breathe, to sing its own tune, with the whistle of wind and bird song through the canopies. He passes mushrooms of all types, and knows when night falls, the forest will be alight, and perhaps more beautiful.

The clearing he heads for comes into view within the hour, deeper into the forest than he usually ventures. Over time, he has come to know this place like the back of his hand, as every lifeform seems to react to his presence, leading him wherever he wants to go. Even though its a more unfamiliar section, Vessel isn't uneasy. This is Sleep's domain, and Vessel snd his beloveds are safe here.

Its a far cry from when he first arrived, stumbling and in pain, knees and palms meeting the foliage and its hard twigs and pebbles so many times before he eventually found the manor. The forest no longer leads him astray, as he is one with Sleep, and this place is the God's earthly domain just as much as dreams and nightmares.

Vessel loiters at the edge of the clearing for a few minutes, unsure what to do with himself, before he steels his resolve and takes that first step. He has some vague idea of how to go about this, he just has to put it into action.

Taking a deep breath, Vessel closes his eyes as he stands in the middle of the clearing. Another deep breath, and he imagines a weapon appearing, any weapon. He doesn't think it matters what he uses. He just needs something. Nothing happens for a long time.

He leaves the bond open, and as the day wears on, lets them feel his mounting exhaustion and anxiety and determination.

Sleep must take pity on him as noon rolls around and he has made no progress. Sitting on the ground with his head in his hands, Vessel leans imperceptibly into the small breeze that blows his hair around.

"My sigil on your neck is a symbol of your powers awakening."

"I have had this since the beginning." Vessel says, reaching a hand down to brush against the red sigil in the hollow of his throat.

It tingles faintly at the careful touch, "Do Two and Three have one as well? I didn't see one anywhere visible."

"They each have their own, yes. Your weapons will manifest with the help of something dear to you."

"Two's battle axes were his drumsticks." Vessel tries to think of what his may be.

"I don't have my piano." Vessel mutters, and Sleep's laugh reverberates in his skull, echoing around him and through the trees.

"A good guess, my First, but it is not your piano. Take another guess, what other instrument is dear to you?"

"My voice?" Vessel offers, head tilting to the side as he lifts his head from his hands.

"Your body, my First. Your voice, yes, but it is your body."

"I... My body is not dear to me, my God. I actively destroy it myself, frequently."

"Do you wish death upon me, my Vessel?"

"What? No, of course not. What does that have to do with-"

"Your body is your instrument of worship." Sleep says, knowing His vessel will understand from that alone.

Realization strikes.

"Oh."

Vessel offered his God his heart. Vessel offers His God his blood. He offers his past and his pain and the memories all held close in his soul to His God. He is going to use his body to protect the other vessels, is going to use it to avenge the Third. Even if he cuts into it, even if he kills himself, the damage is superficial.

If Vessel really didn't care for this body, for His God whose life is connected to his own, or so they say (Vessel questions the validity of that statement), then he would have taken a knife to the altar room wall where the sigil holding his heart rests.

But Vessel does not truly wish to leave His God, nor the other vessels. He loves them, and as long as they'll have him, he'll stay.

"Thank you, my God. I understand now."

Sleep's voices are fond as they fade, another breeze ruffling Vessel's hair, and he knows it's his God, touching Vessel in the only way he can. "Of course, my dearest Vessel. You have the knowledge you need, now you just have to utilize it."

Utilize it, he will. II had summoned his completely on accident, completely concentrated on himself and his instrument. Vessel decides to focus on concentrating on his body, as Sleep said it is what will help manifest a weapon.

Closing his eyes, Vessel relaxes his posture, and places his palms down on his knees. Then, he really tries to become aware of his own body. Vessel feels the dull ache in his knees, the sting of his fresh cuts, every inhale and exhale becomes deliberate. The dryness in his throat, the movement of his eyes behind his eyelids.

An ache starts in Vessel's spine, spreading around to his ribcage.

A deep breath in, a long exhale.

The ache disappears.

There is a weight in his lap, something hard under his palms. Opening his eyes, Vessel stands, his weapon held in one hand loosely.

The scythe is bone white, curved only slightly like the spine it is made of. Where spine meets the sharpened rib turned blade, a ribcage has been etched into the bone. In the ribcage sits a blackened, realistic heart, with spots of gold and red for detail. Vessel is reminded of daggers, and how some pommels are intricately carved. Its missing some vertebrae in a section towards the middle where Vessel's hand would grip the handle, black leather laced with a couple straps of white leather. The vertebrae are smaller after the handle, going down in size until they end where the sacrum begins, before going down into a sharp point of the coccyx, almost like a spearhead.

With an ease he didn't think possible, he swings it around so that it nearly aligns with his body vertically. Its almost as tall as himself, save half a foot.

Vessel grins, overcome with delight, and with barely a thought, the scythe disappears in a small shower of golden sparks. With a little concentration, it appears again in the same way.

II and III send down feelings of question, and Vessel responds by simply tugging gently on the bond, a faint thrum of excitement traveling down it. Vessel makes his scythe disappear as a text comes in a second later, from a group chat Vessel didn't start.

(Eepies)

ii: Are you coming back home now Ves? I made lunch. Did you want some?

Vessel: No, thank you. Go ahead and eat.

ii: Okay =)

III has changed the group name to Eepies (was Sleep's Vessels)

ii: III, honey, what does eepies even mean

?¿?: sleep's sleepies. y'know, sleeps vessels. eepies. and you're always sleepy

ii: Sure honey, that makes total sense

?¿?: is that sarcasm I feel like that's sarcasm >=/

Vessel: I'll be heading back soon.

ii: Did you finish whatever you were working on?

Vessel: Yes :::)

?¿?: stop being cute >=/

Vessel: Whatever do you mean?

?¿?: im not explaining, ii gets it

ii: The six eyed smiley face is adorable. Thats what III means

?¿?: aww =( =( =( you told him =( =( =(

ii: Ves would overhink it otherwise

?¿?: overhink

ii: Learn what a capital letter is sweetie before you mention my typos

?¿?: doll you dont seem to use punctuation consistently

II sends a photo of a pouting cat with a human middle finger plastered over its paw and III sends back some strange laughing face. Vessel frowns, looking up at the sky after glancing down at the time on his phone. Just past noon. He didn't think it was that cute, but those two confuse him so often anyway, he's not even going to question it. Not even going to question the teasing that hasn't turned into an argument, like Vessel thought it would.

Vessel: Heading back to the house now.

ii: Okay, be safe!

III sends a thumbs up emoji, and a few caret symbols, showing their agreement with what II had said. Shaking his head with a small smile, Vessel begins the trek back to the house. His phone dings numerous times for new messages, and when he stops to check, his anxiety making him think its something important, he sees that III has spammed the group chat with a bunch of photos with overlaid text. II calls them memes, and the word is familiar to Vessel, though he doesn't remember really ever having any sent to himself, nor sending any out.

Its cute, despite Vessel not really understanding any of them. He enjoys the smell of nature around him, the sun peeking through the overhead canopies warming spots on his face. The brightness stings his eyes a bit but Vessel has become more used to it as time goes on.

Passing by a mushroom cluster, Vessel decides to take a photo. He first has to figure out how. It takes a second, but he manages to get one and sends it to the group chat with a bit of difficulty.

The image is of a cluster of tall milky white mushrooms, with a wide, white head that goes into a dark, murky green in the middle. Vessel's fingers have accidentally gotten in the bottom of the frame, and the rest of the photo is a little blurry.

?¿?: oh thats a mycena chlorophos!!!!!! It glows a neon green at night!!!!! ^_^

ii: Nice photo Ves! Hold the camera still a little bit longer next time <3

Vessel grins, turning the phone around to take a photo of himself. He sends it to the group chat after a little deliberation, forcing himself to not think about it too much. Its blurry, moreso than the other one, only catching the top half of Vessel's face and a little of his proud smile, a thumbs up deliberately in frame.

?¿?: =O

?¿?: =D

?¿?: ^_^ youre so cute

ii: You're so cute.

Vessel blushes, turning his screen off to try and get rid of some of his embarrassment. The entire time spent walking back to the house is filled with Vessel overthinking what the fuck he just did. Why did he send a photo of himself? He shouldn't have done that, even if they said he's cute. He's not cute, and he definitely shouldn't have sent that photo of himself.

Upon returning to the house, Vessel finds that II and III have unloaded the car and gotten the TV and PlayStation set up in the downstairs living room. Miraculous internet and electricity access aside, Vessel is a little disappointed he didn't get to help. It would've been interesting to watch the set up process.

III hops up from the couch when Vessel enters the living room, taking his hand gently and pulling him excitedly over to where the TV is turned on, a game idling on the loading screen.

"You're back! We were waiting for you so we could start NieR: Automata."

"Oh, sorry. I didn't mean to make you wait." Vessel apologizes, guilty, unable stop staring at the purple swelling on III's face.

The sight makes him so, so angry.

"No, no, Sugar. I didn't tell you we wanted to play anything, you couldn't have known. Besides, no harm done. I do have some patience in me!" III reassures before calling out to II.

II comes down the stairs, a couple blankets already in hand. He smiles when he sees Vessel, offering a greeting that he returns, and they all settle on the couch, blankets laid over their laps.

"Who all wants to play?" III asks, and Vessel watches as II shakes his head.

"I'm alright. I'm content to watch."

Seeing II decline leads Vessel to thinking its okay for him to do the same, "I'll just watch you play, for now. Later, perhaps."

"Aww, okay. That's fine. Well, don't laugh when I inevitably die. Repeatedly."

As the game starts, and the opening sequence begins, a woman begins speaking.

"Everything that lives is designed to end. We are perpetually trapped in a never-ending spiral of life and death. Is this a curse? Or some kind of punishment? I often think about the god who blessed us with this cryptic puzzle... and wonder if we'll ever get the chance to kill him."

Vessel is enraptured immediately, leaning into III and laying his head on their shoulder. III plays as a stoic android woman, 2B, one of many androids tasked with wiping out machine lifeforms so humans can return to Earth. She is joined by witty, emotional 9S, a surveillance type Android, and their pods, little rectangular machines with small arms designed to help with assault and data collection.

Despite III's words, they don't die that often. They spend a few hours just watching III play, and Vessel is intrigued by the story and the world instantly. The music is beautiful, and Vessel loves it immediately, would love to listen to it outside of the game even, to hear it better past all of the sound effects of the game itself. The boss fight against a machine who tries to make herself beautiful using the bodies of androids, all for the attention of another arrogant, narcissistic machine who never even knew she existed is terribly sad, and the first fight to kill III.

Elvira hops up in II's lap at some point, asking for affection insistently.

"Hi, baby, come to hang out with us?" II asks, petting Elvira's head as she leans into it with a short trill.

She leaves II quickly to curl up in Vessel's lap, kicking up a low purr as her tail brushes his arm. Vessel smiles, looking down for a second to pet her properly, keeping one hand running through her fur when his attention moves back to the game.

II pouts at the fact his cat just left him. Its a cute sight though, so he doesn't mind that much. II slowly takes out his phone, snapping a photo and setting it to his phone wallpaper, even if the angle is a little too far to the side. It shows III focused intently on his game, a little furrow in his brow, Vessel's head on his shoulder and Elvira sitting in his lap, nearly lost in the black blanket spread over both of their laps. Its so fucking adorable, II wants to explode.

They take a break when dinner rolls around, and Vessel escapes to his own room for a little while.

The others can tell he is distracted the rest of the day, zoning out frequently at the dinner table. There is satisfaction in the bond even then, telling of Vessel's success earlier that day with something he doesn't share with the others. They don't mind, happy to see him happy about something, whatever it is.

There is anger still fizzling under his skin at the pain III does not hide entirely, but clearly makes some attempt at lessening its flow over the bond. They had taken some medicine for it earlier, and while it seemed to help, it wasn't anything substantial.

II and III go to worship together, leaving the door open in case Vessel wants to join. He doesn't, leaving them to their worship. The smell of the floral incense III had gotten recently spreads to the rest of the house, a subtle scent that doesn't overpower any of their noses. The ink is still seeping back into their forearms when they leave the altar room, hand in hand.

Everytime they go in, Vessel fears they will hear his heart.

II and III are disappointed when Vessel doesn't come to bed with them like he had been. He instead urges them to go on without him, stating he wishes to worship for a little while. II frowns as Vessel avoids their question when III asks if he's going to come lay with them later.

There is guilt in the bond. It is not II or III's.

"Goodnight Ves!" III calls with a yawn, waving from outside II's door with his other hand pressing an ice pack to his cheek.

Though still a deep purple, the swelling has gone down at least. Vessel waves back with a smile, still a little curious as to why the other vessels sleep as humans do. His God had said so many hours would not be required, and yet, the others seem to feel exhaustion and tiredness as they used to, Before. A question for another time, perhaps. He turns one pair of eyes to II next, who clearly looks as though he wants to say something. There's a war going on in his eyes, indecision stark within them as they watch Vessel with something akin to curiosity. Vessel wonders if II knows what Vessel is going to do.

"Goodnight, Vessel. I- I..." II pauses, unsure, and ultimately does not finish what they were going to say.

Fuck, II loves Vessel so much. He just wants to be able to say it, to tell the other man. He wants to be able to tell III, too, but they both fear that Vessel will think they are leaving him behind if they confess properly to each other first. He wants Vessel to be able to tell him things, wants to share the weight dragging him down. Vessel has opened up so much since the beginning of II's time at the manor, is so proud of him for it. Fuck, II just wants to smother him and III in love without holding anything back.

He turns, tired eyes sad as he shuts his door behind him, leaving it open a crack in invitation.

Vessel stares after him, longing deep in his bones.

II and III cuddle close, II allowing himself to be the little spoon. "Did he seem alright to you?"

"Does Vessel ever really seem alright?" III mutters back sadly, burying their face in the back of II's neck, breath fanning against his nape and sending light shivers down his spine.

"Well, no, but I think he's hiding something." II says, stroking gently fingers along the length of III's arm that's laid over his side, pulling him close to the other.

"He could still be upset. I think what happened with that asshole yesterday ago shook him up more than me." III attempts to joke at the end, but it falls short.

"Don't undermine your pain, I had to wake you from a nightmare just this morning. I'll admit Vessel was the most angry I've ever seen him. He didn't seem to want us to see him that way either. His bond has been radiating guilt since dinner. He was so distracted after we stopped playing NieR. Do you think he hurt himself again?"

"It's definitely a possibility, but he's been getting better at coming to us or cleaning them himself. We can either ask or let him come to us."

"We'll ask in the morning. He's been getting better at telling us things, too. Though, he did leave his mask off today. He's hides so much from us with that thing on, even with the bond."

"Mm, his face is such an open book, its no wonder he hides it. Its clearly also a comfort thing too, he never sings without it." III says into II's hair, feeling the others bond beginning to fuzz up.

"I wonder what expressions he makes when he sings. I bet they're cute."

"Its Vessel, of course they're cute." III takes II's hand that has gone limp in their hold, bringing it to their lips to place a tender kiss against his knuckles.

II hums an agreement, drifting off in the following silence. III tries to pull him closer, but its impossible since their bodies are already flush together. He wishes Vessel was here with them.

Vessel waits in his room for a little while for his chance to worship. When he feels II's bond go fuzzy with sleep, feels III's follow a few minutes later, he heads to the altar room.

He kneels in front of Sleep's altar after lighting a match, all the candles then lit with a flame, except the red one which burns a shining gold. His God is already here, awaiting his word.

Taking a knife, one of many he keeps in his room, Vessel slices into his forearm, purposefully reopening a newer wound so that II and III are less likely to notice it. Human and divine blood drips steadily into the offering plate, and once he is sure there is a sufficient amount, he places a large, shiny moss-covered white stone in the center. He lets his bond close, not all the way, open enough for the others to tell he is still alive if they awaken unexpectedly.

Taking a deep breath, steeling his resolve, Vessel begins to speak, mask settled securely over his face.

"My God, I am formally requesting the names and faces of every person involved in Three's murder."

"As you wish, my First. Take a bite."

A glowing orb, iridescent in color, with wisps of light smoke floating off of it sits in the offering place, replacing the stone and his blood. It is almost like the nightmares he eats.

Without any hesitation, he picks it up. It slides down his throat smoothly, sweet and airy, like a dream. Perhaps that is what it is.

Vessel is in town, the light of the sun stinging his eyes as it creeps towards the horizon. Before him, walks III, maskless as Vessel finds himself, completely human, and like a beacon, radiating such life and energy, bouncing a little with every step. The sight makes Vessel smile. He's entering a music shop, and Vessel scrambles to follow. He doesn't call out, hates the attention it would bring, only follows closely behind them. Looking around the busy shop as III browses, Vessel tries not to think about all the people around him. At one point, III stops, and Vessel doesn't notice, colliding directly into them.

Only, there isn't actually any contact made. Vessel's whole body tingles, like every bit of himself had gone to sleep all of a sudden, and he phases right through III. It's disorienting and Vessel is left blinking rapidly in confusion. III doesn't seem to notice anything weird had happened, continuing on with picking up a CD and glancing over its back cover. They put it down, and Vessel continues following them for a few minutes. They leave the store without buying anything, muttering about nothing new being stocked yet. As they're leaving, Vessel recognizes one of the people entering.

III compliments one of the men in their group, and all three of them gain this strange, hateful expression. Vessel feels his stomach sink.

One swings an arm around III's shoulder, pulling him along with them as they crowd him in on one side, and the back. He couldn't escape, their placement intentional. III keeps eyeing the men around him nervously, shuffling along as they lead him down the street to a dingy alley, with closed down shops on either side. There are fewer people here, Vessel notices, as he follows at their heel.

He tries to grab III, to pull them away from these people, because he knows what comes next. III had told them, without such exact detail as witnessing it himself. Already Vessel feels tears pricking at the corners of his eyes, desperately trying to touch III, to get them away, to shove the men away from him.

His hands phase right through, tingling so badly he can barely move his fingers.

Vessel cannot stop the cry of rage, of despair as they corner III in a circle, as he is shoved against a wall and the first blow lands. Every one after is like a knife to Vessel's chest. When III slides to the ground, slumping over in a daze, and another kick sends them sprawling, Vessel falls to his knees at his side. Desperately, he looks around the alley, begging for someone to help III in his stead. A man passes by, glancing at them and then looking away as though nothing was happening. A woman and her boyfriend pass by next, and while she wants to help, the boyfriend pulls her along. All these people pass by as the sun sinks below the horizon, as a shifty streetlight blinks haphazardly at the entrance to the alley, and no one stops to help III. Its sickening.

As his tears fall, Vessel does not look away. He will not be like them. He will not hide from III's pain. He will not look away. It would be a disservice to the agony they went through. Vessel needs to witness every moment so he can return the pain tenfold to their murderers. So he sits, hands hovering over III's form as it jerks with the force of the blows raining down upon him. And watches. Continuously wipes away golden tears that blur his vision. He memorizes every crease, every freckle, the exact shade of their eyes and hair. Each pair of eyes is dedicated to flitting about and catching every minute detail. He listens intently to III's ragged breathing, their pained groans and whimpers, desperately wishing he could touch him, hold them close, save them from this pain. Listens to the words they exchange, the calling of names to let someone get a certain hit in. Listens to the timber of their laughs and the sounds of their gaits as they walk away.

Daniel Wright, Kade Schaefer, Denzel McBride. He will not let the three of them get away with this.

Vessel sits, ignoring the tingle where his limbs touch III as he bends over their limp body. An ear is pressed as close as possible to hear the ever fading sound of IIII's gurgling breaths beginning to slow. They cough, choking on their own blood as Vessel sobs over them, unable to help, blank eyes staring up past where Vessel tries to hold them in their last moments, but cannot. This has already come to pass. Vessel is merely here to be a witness.

A shuddering breath is like a cannon going off, a shrieking wail following when no more breaths come to pass. Vessel keeps trying to scoop III up in his arms, to hold him even though he knows he can't. Its agony, one of the worst things Vessel has ever experience in this life or Before. No, it IS the worst thing he's ever experienced. He hopes nothing ever compares to this ever again. If anything happens to II and III, Vessel can only hope to join them when he inevitably ends himself, completely and utterly. His only regret would be not being able to trade his life for theirs, for not being able to spare his God what would likely be a significant loss as His First Vessel.

Choking on a sob, Vessel comes back to himself, bleeding sluggishly onto the altar table, mask pressed into the empty offering plate.

Those motherfuckers will not be given the privilege of having their names uttered in Vessel's head. From here on out, they will be dubbed Dipshit, Fuckface, and It, in order of highest on his shitlist. Dipshit will be his first kill, Vessel has been wanting to get ahold of him since he'd dragged III off.

Vessel takes a moment to wrap his arm back in his room, deciding not to clean it and wanting to feel the pain. Vessel was simply going to leave in what he was already wearing, but his God's voice stops him.

'Adorn yourself in the cloak you arrived in.'

Vessel's confusion is clear in the bond, 'Yes, my God, I will do so. Might I ask why?'

'You are to offer me their bodies, yes? Your chest must be bare.' Sleep explains no further, and while Vessel remains confused, he does not question any further.

The house is silent, the others' bonds still asleep. Vessel slowly pushes II's door open, glad it doesn't creak. Emboldened by what he is setting out to do, Vessel creeps forward and places a gentle kiss each in II and III's hair. They do not stir, wrapped up in each other under a mound of blankets. Its cute, and it makes Vessel sad. He cannot allow himself that sort of closeness, even with all of his layers, and they respect that need for space. Vessel loves them, even if they don't love him in return. When they inevitably get together, Vessel will be happy for them. He can only hope they'll still want him around.

Placing his phone on the nightstand, he also puts a pre-written note that says he'll be back soon over the device, so it won't be missed. Vessel closes the door behind him with a soft click, Elvira following after him. She's at his heels all the way to the front door.

"You can't follow me, Ellie. I'll be back." Vessel promises, leaning down to pet her head.

She meows indignantly as he closes the front door behind him, and he chuckles a little at the pretty cats antics. He grabs his cloak from the car, stripping out of his shirts. Its a little awkward at first, Vessel unused to baring himself in such a way, but with every moment spent with only the robe on his back, he finds he enjoys the comfort of the material more and more.

His mask transforms, the mouth hole covered and the point elongating, twisting into something akin to a mouthless grimace of anguish to make the whole thing truly unsettling.

"Should I take the car?" Vessel mutters, "The old thing might wake the others up when I start it though. Its loud as shit."

'I will transport you to town. Find them, follow my pull in their general direction, enact the Third's revenge. You know their names, their faces. Lure them from civilization into the forest. End this.'

Sleep gives Vessel no warning before the ground beneath him opens up, dark tendrils wrapping around his legs and arms, pulling him down and swallowing him whole.

Sleep's power spits him out from the dark shadows of a building, gasping and trembling like a man drowned. The tendrils recede from his skin with a gentle caress, and Vessel sends his thankfulness down their bond as the dizziness recedes. Once he feels stable enough to stand, he does so as he looks around him.

'For what you will be giving me, this is nothing I will not easily gain back.' Sleep says, voices weak and shaky, and Vessel nods in understanding.

He must return this power to his God soon, if only to help them not sound so frail. Vessel does not like it. Vessel will force himself to sing in front of a crowd, if he must, if it will gain his God more worshippers.

Vessel pulls his hood over his head as he starts forward, a pull in his chest leading him east. He sticks to the shadows, confident the darkness will hide him from the view of the street cameras. His own phone could capture his face, he's not sure if other devices will.

'If you wishto be seen, you will. It will be inevitable when you eventually worship around non-vessels.' Sleep murmurs, still tugging him along.

People pass by him on the sidewalk, not sparing him a glance. Vessel eyes them with his usual anxiety, but does not stop moving. He comes to a stop outside of a crowded bar, the pull in his chest like a tether, pulled tight and threatening to break. One of III's murderers is in there.

Vessel walks in, no one sparing him a second glance. Scanning the crowd, Vessel spots Daniel Wright easily. Dipshit is laughing at the bar with his friends, tossing back drinks. Beside him, head leant back in a loud, obnoxious laugh that Vessel swears he can hear from the other side of the building, is Kade Schaefer, Fuckface.

Oh, he is in luck. Two of the three are here. Vessel navigates through the crowd, weaving in and out of the throngs of people as he makes his way to the bar. He stops perhaps halfway there, as Dipshit turns his head, feeling the gaze of Vessel burning a hole through his head.

Dipshit catches a glance of Vessel's mask in the crowd, freezing up in the middle of taking a sip of his beer. He chokes, coughing as Fuckface slaps his back in attempts to help.

"Did you see that?" Dipshit asks frantically, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

Fuckface turns to look, confused, but Vessel is already lost in the crowd. "Maybe you've had enough to drink, man. You were already spewing bullshit yesterday."

"I'm fucking telling you the truth! One of those little assholes did something with the ground, with plants! It was fucking insane!"

"Sure, man, sure, and I'm a wizard."

"I'm fucking serious-!"

A hand reaches out and grips Daniel's shoulder. Daniel startles, turning to look at who is touching him and wondering why the color has suddenly drained from Kade's thin face.

Vessel smiles, though neither can see it, keeping his tone friendly. "I wish to speak with the both of you outside, if you could spare a moment of your time."

"Why the fuck should we do that, freak? Thought you'd had enough when you and your little fuckbuddies ran off with your tails between your legs." Daniel spits, trying to shrug Vessel's hand off as Kade watches Vessel warily.

Its hilarious that Dipshit doesn't realize the only reason he survived another day was III stopping Vessel. Its amusing that he doesn't realize Vessel's anger only grows with every insult towards his beloved's.

"What seems to be the issue? If anything were to happen, you could easily beat me. You held my friend down rather easily. You're bigger than I am. Besides, there are two of you, and only one of me." Vessel urges, head tilting just so to the side.

Kade eyes Vessel as though he is going to eat him alive. Perhaps Vessel, or rather his God, will.

"Hey, Daniel, maybe we shouldn't-" Kade tries, but Daniel cuts him off.

"Shut the fuck up Kade, what's the worst that could happen? Little cult freak is right. We outnumber him. Besides," Dipshit grins, eyeing Vessel up and down like he is already picturing what blows will cause Vessel the most pain, like he did to III, "He only wants to talk."

"Yes, just talk." Vessel confirms, turning his mask to watch Kade.

Kade doesn't seem convinced, but follows Vessel and Dipshit out of the bar anyway, after putting their drinks on a tab.

Vessel's grin grows wider, stepping out under the unnaturally bright moon. Vessel easily remains visible to the eyes pinned on his back, Sleep's presence prominent, though weak from the use of their magic.

He takes the lead, confident in his ability to fight back if the other two try anything. Kade and Daniel whisper conspiratorially, keeping their distance. They think this'll be quick, that no one will look for Vessel except the other freaks in their little cult. This will prove otherwise.

Vessel leads them around the back of the building, towards the forest that surrounds the town on all sides. More of the seedier areas, which to be fair is most of the town despite the peoples misplaced pride, are all on the outer edges.

It only makes Vessel's goal easier to reach.

When Vessel is sure they've not been followed, when he is sure they're deep into the forest, he turns. Dipshit and Fuckface stare at him, Kade eyeing him nervously as Daniel begins to walk towards Vessel.

"Well, you wanted to talk, freak. Let's talk." Daniel throws his arms wide, and Vessel lifts a hand quickly.

Kade flies back with a shout, hitting a tree as vines wrap around him to hold his body to the rough bark. Daniel is shoved into the ground with a flick of Vessel's other hand, vines wrapping around him too and dragging him towards the ground so tightly his body digs into the dirt. He flails, but his limbs do not gain any traction.

Once Vessel is sure neither will escape, he stalks forward with a pleased smile under his mask, robe trailing behind him.

Vessel straddles Dipshit, pressing his full weight onto him just in case and takes a good, long look at what he had achieved the day before. Vessel grins, lips bared in a snarl, like a feral animal as he revels in the sight of the bruising, the swelling, on the mans face from where Vessel had managed a good hit or two before III had called him back.

Vessel brushes a reverent claw over it, and Dipshit sneers under him, trying to buck him off and failing miserably. Vessel's digs that claw in as he drags it down Dipshit's face, watching blood bead up as he cuts a line down and off his jaw.

Daniel hisses in pain. "I knew you three were fucking faggots. Get your filthy hands off of me!" He spits, but Vessel only tilts his head a little to the side in amusement.

"Is that all you have to say? I expected worse, something more vulgar perhaps, after what you said about the shortest of us." Vessel keeps his tone light despite the anger hidden beneath.

Vessel's hands are around his throat, nails digging into the soft flesh sporadically. One long, sharp claw traces the mans jugular, slowly putting pressure until the man hisses in pain, then releasing, only to repeat. The entire time, Dipshit's breathing grows more labored, air supply slowly getting cut off with the pressure Vessel's hands are putting around his throat.

He is toying with him, like a cat with a mouse.

"Are you jealous, freak? What I said wasn't so bad." Daniel laughs despite the situation he is in, and Vessel wonders if he has any preservation instincts at all.

As though Vessel could speak of self-preservation instincts.

"You three should know all about sharing. Probably take turns passing him around like some useless little fucktoy."

Vessel snarls, leaning in closer, eyes glowing behind his mask. Daniel only continues, not realizing he is dooming himself to a quicker death, "or maybe you pass the taller one around? No, he got too upset when I said I'd fuck your little friend. He seems the possessive sort-"

Vessel has heard enough and in one movement, lifts a hand to dig a claw into Dipshit's temple, focusing so hard his vision seems to blur around the edges in single-mindedness. Vessel's gives Daniel a nightmare, he will suffer through every agony they wreathed upon III. He does not put him to sleep. He did make a promise, after all, and he truly intends to try and keep it. Vessel knew pain, it was easy to replicate the feeling on another through a dream.

Dipshit screams and screams, a symphony to counter the horrible sound of III's echoing agonies in Vessel's ears, muffled as Vessel wills vines to grow over his mouth.

Fuckface is struggling against the tree he is bound to, vines wrapped around him tightly as he yells helplessly beneath the vines over his mouth. He tries cutting through the vines faster, hand struggling to hold the knife in his sweaty grip.

Vessel isn't concerned. If he escapes, Vessel will simply chase him down. He'd likely enjoy it.

Daniel is panting when he is through the nightmare, and Vessel puts him under again. He continues screaming but Vessel isn't satisfied, still hearing III's own screaming alongside Dipshit's. He fears the sound will never leave him.

One pair of eyes glances down to Dipshit's hands, and Vessel thinks he has some idea of what might make this whole thing a little more pleasing.

When Dipshit comes to from the second nightmare, gasping in agony at the pain that was so real just a second ago, Vessel stands up, summoning his scythe.

Moving entirely off of him, Vessel poises his scythe's sharp, spear-like end over one wrist.

"These were forfeit the moment you decided to lay a finger on what belongs to me."

Wasting not even a single moment longer, Vessel brings his scythe down to sever the hand from Daniel's body. He screams in agony, trying in vain to move his head to see what has become of his limb. Vessel doesn't allow him time to process the loss, doing the same to his other wrist in one swift movement.

Sobbing now, the realization that Vessel is truly something other sets in. Vessel hopes Daniel realizes he isn't making it out of this alive. He couldn't imagine being so arrogant as to think yourself invincible to the wrath of something that clearly wasn't entirely of this plain of existence.

The masks alone should have been reason enough to leave them alone. Vessel hopes Dipshit regrets every cruel action taken against innocents.

"You get what you give. You reap what you sow." Vessel states, hand raising.

"No, no, please! Plea-"

The snap echoes through the tiny clearing Vessel lead them to, and Daniel's eyes go dull. His neck looks strange, turned at an unnatural angle and purple beginning to bloom under the skin.

Vessel turns to stare at Kade, who is still yelling behind the vines. Vessel wills them to recede, curious as to what he is saying, entirely unconcerned about him potentially escaping.

"Please, please let me go! I promise, I won't tell anyone what happened! Please, please! Spare me!" Fuckface begs, unable to tear his horrified eyes away from Dipshit.

His hand moves faster, finally cutting himself free. As soon as he is free to move, Kade books it back in the direction of town. A shame. If he had not ran, Vessel would have given him a nightmare, too. They all deserve to feel what they've done to III.

Vessel laughs, a low, hollow thing as adrenaline courses through him. He gives chase, reveling in the rush. Vessel didn't expect to enjoy his revenge quite so much. He'll punish himself thoroughly for such sick enjoyment later. For now, there are still two to kill.

"Death should not affect you so. You've killed before." Vessel calls, moving like a wraith over the forest floor, long legs carrying him with utmost speed towards his prey.

"How do you know about that?!" Kade sobs, stumbling over roots as they seem to appear in his way.

"You killed my friend. This is the punishment." Vessel is nearly caught up now.

Just a little further and his scythe will be within reach.

"Please, fuck, just let me go! Whichever one was your friend, I'm sorry! I'm so sorry, I'll never hurt anyone ever again! Please, God, I don't wanna die!"

There were more besides III...? Oh, perhaps Vessel doesn't regret this nearly as much as he thought he would. He is doing the world a favor.

"The God's avert their gaze from you, as they averted their gaze from my wrecked, wretched form. Fall at my hands, meet my God, the only one who will look upon your filth, though not with kindness as they did mine."

With a decisive swing, Vessel's scythe meets flesh, tearing through spine and viscera as though paper. Blood sprays, paralysis hitting instantly, and Kade drops, like a puppet whose strings have been cut. His death is quick, bleeding out from the large slash across his back. Vessel's scythe disappears in an easy twirl of golden sparks, and Vessel crouches to lift the mess of a body in his arms to drag back to the other. Blood trails thickly after him, the body nearly in half from the force of Vessel's blow, from the sharpness of the blade.

Blood that is not his own drips down Vessel's front, and he cringes a bit in disgust. If it were his own blood, he would not care.

Vessel lets Fuckface's body drop next to Dipshit's, lining them up in a neat little row. Satisfaction swirls in his chest, and Vessel, for a moment, is proud of himself. He did good, didn't he? He killed these two for III's sake. They won't be in pain anymore.

Will... will they appreciate what he's done?

Looking over the bodies and what he has done to them in his rage... Vessel doesn't think III will think much of him at all, after this.

They will both surely throw him away. It will have been worth it, to rid the world of two people who had enjoyed hurting others. To rid the world of those who had killed III.

Vessel drops to his knees as tears leak down his face under the mask, already grieving the bonds he will lose for his actions today. He hopes II and III will at least look at him when they leave him, even just for a moment, even if their pretty blues are filled with loathing. They always saw Vessel, never ignored him, never made him feel as though he didn't exist.

Sometimes, Before, he craved that in his relationships. Anything to get away from the pain of being seen. With II and III, Vessel wants to be seen. He wants to be heard. He wants someone to want him near.

Vessel's first boyfriend wouldn't even look at him when he left. Didn't care that Vessel was choking on his own sobs and snot, unable to breathe through the panic attack that had paralyzed him, left him stuck clinging uselessly to the doorframe of their shared apartment. Didn't care that all Vessel wanted was to be loved.

Shaking his head, Vessel tugs gently on the bond he shares with his God, who has lingered somewhere close the entire time Vessel has been away from the manor. He raises his arms to his sides, palms facing the moon.

"Sleep, my deity, this is a giving, an offering in your favour, a sacrifice in your name. I offer you the body and blood of those who have wronged me and those I care for. Devour them."

The sky goes dark as night truly falls, the moon hidden behind thick cloud cover.

Darkness overtakes Vessel's skin, turning him into a living shadow. His form blurs around the edges, like he is worshipping at his God's altar. Vessel cries out, claws digging into the dirt as his body goes weak. He crumbles to the forest floor, writhing in agony as a line splits over his chest, skin and muscle parting to make way for his ribs to be seen as red-black blood spills over the wound. Ribs splinter as they crack outwards, exposing the gaping hole where his heart should sit. From the darkness, teeth made from the splintered edges of his ribs open wide like a maw. Vessel pants through the all-consuming agony overtaking every one of his senses.

It was like ripping his heart out all over again, only the pain increased a hundred fold. An indescribable agony that Vessel will never forget.

Tendrils of inky darkness slither from his chest cavity as Vessel moans in pain on his back. He understands, now, why his God wished for Vessel to wear the robe he was reborn in.

'Sit up, my First.'

Groaning at the motion, Vessel half rolls over, shoving himself up with one shaking arm. Taking a deep breath, he shoves again, righting himself on his knees. Through sheer force of will, he keeps himself from collapsing forward.

Some of the tendrils have teeth, wrapping around the bodies and digging in. Soon, Vessel can barely see either of the corpses, covered in shadows and tendrils. They seem to sink in on themselves until nothing is left underneath, receding back into Vessel's body.

He shudders, pointing weakly at something his God had missed. "His hands. Do not forget his hands."

Another tendril reaches out, and Vessel swears he can almost feel the thing move from inside him, but knows that couldn't be right. The tendril picks up the hands, and they both disappear inside of the gaping maw in Vessel's chest.

The sight makes Vessel sick, gut churning with nausea.

'This is the first time you have manifested any of my form. Despite our bond, our linked souls, your human body is still incapable of properly taking on my essence in such a way. I will make note of this. It is not your own failing, my First. That you managed to do this at all is impressive. It is not an easy thing to manifest even a sliver of my being. I am proud of you, and yourbodyfornotgivingoutundertheweightofmy divinity.'

Vessel is not given a moment to relish in his God's pride in him, as a phone rings from somewhere nearby. It is not his own. Vessel lets it go, intending to let the phone die for all he cares, but a thought strikes him.

Two of III's murderers were together tonight. What are the chances the third was going to meet up with them?

Picking up the phone after lettings its ringing end, Vessel finds it easy to open. Vessel opens up the contact that has called, Denzel being displayed in big, blocky letters.

Vessel is utterly pleased. They've made this so easy.

Sending off a text saying that Kade and Daniel had wandered a bit into the woods, asking for Denzel to join them for some drinks, Vessel waits to see if he managed to replicate Kade's texting style. A couple missed punctuations, a purposeful spelling error there, and Vessel thinks he mostly got it right. A confirmation text comes through and Vessel smiles a little. He only has to wait a few minutes for another text to come through asking where Kade is. Vessel texts back that he'll meet him a little further into the forest, receiving an okay in return.

Heading in the direction of town, Sleep leads the way, a gentle pull under his skin guiding him towards Denzel's demise.

'He is near. You have the means to drag him here quickly. End this, my dear First.'

Vessel keeps to the shadows of the trees, the moon's light dim unlike earlier in the night. It helps to hide him from view, the only thing truly visible is the white of his mask. He sneers as Denzel comes into sight, phone pressed to his ear as he smokes a cigarette. The phone in Vessel's hand starts ringing, and he is quick to drop it, moving away silently.

Denzel looks to the sound, putting his phone down and taking his cigarette from his mouth long enough to call out, "Kade! Daniel! Where are you motherfuckers?"

"I can't believe I came out here into the middle of the damn woods for those fools." He mutters, taking another hit of his cigarette.

He walks in the direction of the phone, leaning around a large tree expecting to see his friends. Instead, Kade's phone lays abandoned, screen still lit up with the missed call he had just made.

"What the fu-"

A mass of vines crawl up his legs to the knee, pulling him deeper into the forest as he yells out in shock and pain as his back slams into the hard ground. There is quiet laughter echoing around him as he is dragged deeper and deeper. Yelling for help, Denzel struggles, cursing profusely, unable to reach his legs and free himself, flailing uselessly.

A white dot appears from the shadows, growing nearer until Denzel can see its a mask.

"You're one of those cult fucks!" He exclaims in anger.

Vessel only watches as the vines bring him closer, more coming to wrap around  his arms and pull them out to the sides in something akin to a t-pose. Lifting Denzel up, Vessel's telekinesis power brings him face to mask with Vessel, holding him in the air.

"What the fuck do you want from me?!" Denzel shouts as Vessel watches him silently.

Vessel lets him struggle futilely as Denzel's fear only grows with every passing moment of nothing but endless silence and a creepy, masked man simply staring at him.

"Fucking say something!" Denzel shouts, tugging so hard on the vines that his shoulder burn with the intensity, muscles bulging in attempts to escape.

"Your kind doesn't deserve to exist." Vessel says, and his eyes go wide.

No, It doesn't deserve the right to be called anything of importance. Not after what it did to Vessel's beloved III. He'll never forget the terror, the confusion, on their face as this fucker made that first hit that shattered III's cheekbone, laughing all the while.

Vessel hopes it remembers that it said those exact words to III as they were killing him. As he spit on them, giving a final kick to a body already broken beyond repair.

Vessel places a claw at It's temple, like he did to Dipshit, and the nightmare Vessel gives it is exquisite, leaving it trembling even as its eyes go listless, unseeing, caught in its own mind.

Its eyes clear, tears threatening to fall from thick eyelashes, but Vessel only puts it under again. And again. And again and again until it is simply a limp, sobbing mess that can barely speak past the hyperventilation.

When it comes to a final time, it chokes out, "Who the fuck are you?"

Vessel summons his scythe for the fear tactic alone, bone white gleaming under the bright moon above, Sleep's presence an encouraging croon in his ear, telling him to end it. End it, offer its body to his God. Vessel puts the scythe's sharp, rib turned blade to Denzel's neck. It nicks the skin, drawing red blood that drips slowly down the tan skin.

It pisses in terror, green eyes wide in horror. It shouldn't be afraid of the blade, no, it should be afraid of Vessel himself. It was this thing that had landed the killing blow on III, this thing that had deemed III as something unworthy of his precious life, this thing that had started the assault in the first place. Over a compliment.

The scythe disappears in a shower of gold, and Vessel raises a hand to trace the nick in its skin.

He moves his claw lower, digs it in enough to sting without injury, purposefully not breaking skin as Vessel drags it down over its Adam's apple, over the length of its throat and past the collarbones. Down further, until Vessel can feel a beating heart under his hand, all five fingers splaying over Denzel's chest. It struggles,  whimpering in terror as Vessel scratches at its skin so gently, like a lovers caress.

There's a wide grin on his face, sharp teeth bared so fully its nearly a snarl, all six eyes glowing a blood red through the holes of his mask. Golden tears of fury drip down and fall from his jaw, staining his teeth and lips. Behind him, a writhing mass of shadows looms overhead. The moon is brighter still, the bottom cast into darkness as Sleep awaits His next meal. When Vessel speaks, it is with many voices, his most prominent.

"I am the teeth of God, and you hurt what is mine."

He digs his nails in, shoving past skin and muscle, through the cracks in its ribs until at least one claw pierces a lung. A wet gurgle follows, a vine having grown over its mouth to muffle any unsavory sounds. Blood dribbles past the vines, leaves beginning to stain red as a cough splatters blood all over them.

Vessel pulls his hand out, shaking off as much blood as possible and takes a step back. Then, he waits.

Desperate pleas fall onto deaf ears as Vessel watches Denzel slowly suffocate almost the same as III did. This is far more satisfying. Denzel deserves this, Vessel knows he does.

There had been others.

When Denzel takes his final breath, Vessel does not do anything more than breath of sigh of relief.

It is done.

Vessel doesn't regret a single death at his hands, he only regrets what he will lose when he returns to the manor. He knows he would have regretted this, Before. He is not quite who he was Before. When his God intertwined their souls, He must have given Vessel some of His penchant for violence spurred on by possessiveness and protectiveness. The Wrath of a God at his fingertips.

Without warning, Vessel's skin splits, ribs splintering apart as his God's mouth manifests on his chest again. It is once more an awful agony, and Vessel cries, harsh breaths and pained whimpers falling from his pinched lips.

For a time, after his God has had His meal, Vessel simply kneels on the ground, panting with one hand clutching his chest. His side of the bond is a mess of emotions and he fears he will wake the others with it. He had taken great care to keep the bond as calm as possible this entire excursion, but he fears that now that it is done, his control will slip.

II and III remain asleep, safe at the manor and well away from Vessel. He isn't sure he wants to go back to the manor just yet. He is still so vulnerable, crumbling under the weight of what he has just done.

'Come, rest in my realm, my First. You've done well.'

'Should I not go back to the manor first?' Vessel asks, bone deep exhaustion laced in his tone.

'I wish to see you, I wish for you to see me. You have give me a beautiful offering today, I am much stronger than I have been in eons. I may yet be able to manifest some attempt at a visible form. Do not fret, you will find yourself at the manor when you next open your eyes. My realm will have been moved to somewhere else in this country, and the existences of the Third's murderers will beerased from all but the vessels minds.'

Vessel hums an agreement, eager to be with his God. To see his God. He looks up at the moon above him, and swears he sees many eyes, too many, blinking fondly at his still form.

Vessel closes his eyes, and when he opens them, he first sees a sea of red. Sitting up, there is an expanse of red trees as far as his six eyes can see. This place is familiar, and Vessel has often found himself here when his God has called upon him for lyrics or melodies.

Something approaches from behind a particularly large tree, shimmering gold and translucent.

Eyes, so many crimson eyes of varying sizes blink tenderly down at him, surrounded by pitch black sclera. They dot his cheekbones, his forehead, his temples. Thick, dark tendrils are pulled back into a long braid, many tendrils tied together to form the three main sections, exposing a long ear far more pointed than Vessel's own. His God's skin, though translucent and untouchable, wafts smoke like a shadow, darker than night, darker than anything Vessel has ever seen. Across that void of skin is little sprinkles of white, blinking and flowing over His bare shoulders like a moving galaxy of stars, ever changing. Few eyes of varying sizes, like His God's face, litter the skin of His arms, with an eye each on the back of His hands.

His teeth are bone white, rows of sharp points, mouth opened into something akin to a smile. Etched into the skin of his God's face, Sleep's symbol sits in the exact placement of Vessel's masks symbol.

Vessel averts his gaze quickly, remembering what His God had told him when they had first met.

A laugh sounds, and it is so familiar Vessel can feel his shoulders relaxing from their tense position.

The form glitches, magic wavering as Sleep moves closer. 'You can look upon me, my Vessel. You will only be able to see me in this form here, only when I can manage it. I am still so weak. It will be a long time before I can do more than this, but you have given this to me nonetheless.'

His God's many voices do not come from the smiling mouth, still heard, but from no clear place.

Vessel looks up, trusting his God. 'Come, my First. I would like to see your weapon up close. Then, I would like to hear some of your songs. It hasbeen some time since I have brought you to my realm. Now that the Third is settled, I think it is time I resume your visits.'

Vessel follows dutifully, eagerly, even, as His God leads him further into the bloody forest.

[spiced-ciderr]

HI. @crees-a

HELLO. It’s me your dca secret skeleton. I am. Super duper late but we just had a death in the family so things have been WILD.

ANYWAYS. I saw you liked romantic stuff but I kept scrapping those ideas because it was just not writing right and I honestly didn’t have a very good plot idea to begin with buuuuut —

In spirit of Halloween (yes it’s still Halloween what do you mean it’s November 19th) i gift youuuuu A SPOOKY / MILDLY ANGSTY DCA ONE SHOT THING. it’s the best I could do at the moment so I do hope you like it. thank you for your patience!!!!!

(i also dropped a dca fic MASTERLIST for you because i wasn’t able to write a good romantic one shot 😭🫶))

__________

It had been so, so long since the daycare was open. After the incident almost a year ago

(Cameron Bryce, Age 8, sustained severe trauma to the base of the cranium, resulting in 4 emergency surgeries, a concussion so severe he wouldn’t wake up and parents filing a lawsuit against Fazbear Ent.)

it had been quiet. Too quiet. He missed the noise, as crazy as it seemed. He missed the footsteps, the echoes of his name being called out from the lips of the little ones he grew to care for so deeply. He missed the stares he’d get from parents during pickups or dropoffs, and he missed the subtle glares from passer-bys or employees that hated him for no other reason than to hate.

“Don’t hate, Sunny.” She’d said. Miss Ruby was nice. He liked her. Even if she didn’t like Moonie.

"No matter what you see, how angry you become, don't hate. Even if justified, hate only destroys. Doesn't bring justice. Won't fix what's wrong.” she’d told him.

“Hate'll destroy you. Eats away. Becomes part of you. Changes you. Eventually you become what you hate."

Sunny tried his hardest not to hate. He tried not to hate the coworkers that sent him to Part’s and Services. He tried not to hate when they’d strap him and Moon to that awful table. When they’d poke and prod at them, ignoring their pleas. When they’d administer those icky shocks that hurt and stung and burnburnburnburnBURNS- IT BURNS- until he couldn’t think anymore. Until he couldn’t move. Until Moonie came out. Sunny tried not to think of those times. He didn’t like hurting people, honest! He wasn’t a- a rulebreaker! No no no no no. Sunny followed the rules. Sunny was good.

But Sundrop missed it. He missed it all. Well, maybe not the torture-’We could definitely go without the shocks,’- but he missed it. He missed he daycare, he missed the children, he missed his job. He was CREATED for this, for heavens’ sake!

But he held out hope. ‘Soon.’ he thought. “Soonsoonsoon!! The kids’ll be back in NO TIME! I just know it!’

(Charlie Jo, Age 6, broken ribcage, punctured lung and severe hemorrhaging to the neck and surrounding areas)

“C-Clean up! Clean up, clean up, CLEAN UP!!” Sunny frantically ran back and forth throughout the daycare. Everything, EVERYTHING had to be perfect for when the kids came back!! And he’d make sure it would be.

‘Sun. Sunny. Stop. It’s already been a year. The daycare isn’t reopening.’ He pointedly ignored the deep voice echoing in the recesses of his mind. He hadn’t heard from his brother in sosososo long. But that’s okay! All that matters was the kids. The kids. ALL that matters is getting the daycare open again, all that matters is making sure the children are SAFE and SOUND! Naptime would be suspended, yesyes.

‘Methinks you talk too much.’

“Did I say that outloud?” Sunny asked the empty room. “Oopsie.”

‘You’re being ridiculous, Sun.’

“Am not!”

‘Are too.’

“Am not!!”

‘Are too!’

“UGH! You are such a MEANIE, Moon!!” Sunny spoke, exasperated. “You KNOW the daycare has to be in TIPPY-TOP SHAPE for the kiddos! Everything has to be super-duper clean and ready!” Sundrop justified, sanitizing the ballpit the fourth time that day.

It was always the same. Charge, clean, clean, charge, clean again, charge maybe, and clean all night.

The lights ALWAYS had to stay on. Never was there an exception. Even with nobody inhabiting the daycare except for the twins.

(Jamie Poisson. Age 9. Fractured skull. Severe spinal injuries. Cause of Death: blunt-force trauma to the head. Almost as if the child had been ḑ̴̦̰̠̭͚̪̦̺̺̻̝̬̺̳͐̆̓͆̓̈́̊̓̔͠r̸͉̤̻͓̈́̓͑͆̆̓̈́̽̈́͂̐͝o̴̟͇̾̌p̶̢̤͚͇͍̟͉͂̄̂̆͒͌̐̐͂̾͆̀͐͘̕p̸̨̼͕̠̦͍͙̥̗̈́̇ͅḙ̷̢̛̖͙͕̭̤͙͍̬̹̱̻͂́̀͒̂̿́̈́̒͑͗̔̈́͘d̵͖̗͍̩̹͈̰̠̟̂̌͂͗́͘ Large abominable gashes. M̴̢͖̰̙̫͇̬̙̜͖̼̬̓̾̎̾̊͑ȕ̶̢̪̠͙͙͗m̸̢̙͖̹̯͈̯̹͖̯̱̑͊͛́̀͒̆̄͛̈͐̿̕m̴̡̥͎̞̯̯̼̤̪͂̋ỳ̶̻̻͉͔̝̱̟̜̗͕̖̪?̵͖̩̥̹̞͒̉́̈́͐ ̶̧̧̤͕̫͎͚͗̄̈́̏͒̐̋͋͘ͅW̴̧̹̼̞̞͔͖͙̠̠͉̒̍͒̾̊͑͊̋̕̚ḧ̵̡̨̭̝̥̗̥̥̮̖̤͐̀̍ͅe̷̡̠̫̯̦̖͈͍̜̽̈́̏͂̇̅͌̃̕ṙ̶̤̒̊̑̀̏̏̊̒̂̚ȩ̵̨̧̧̱̺͈̰̞͖͉̫̙̌̔͛͌́̅̈̽̇̀͋͌͘ ̶̭̓͑̔͂̆͊̀̒̉͆̍́a̶̢̢̧͈̖̳̩͔̘̥̩͚̜̺̍͂̎͑̑̒̄̌ͅr̴̢̙̞͇̝̪̥̹̙̂͠ȅ̸͈͔̭̰̳̳̗̱̅̃͊̕͜ ̸̻̭͎̹͖͌̐̑͛̍̏̅̄̔̈̿͝͠y̶̡̛̤̮̞̮̪̝̦̹͎̦͝ͅồ̴̦͚͙̠̙̥̝͇̳̫͆̄͜ů̵͍̼̳͇̿̃̈̉̂́̃̿̈̆̽̋̚?̶̢̨͙͚͑̓͆̀̃̈́̂̀

Ṁ̸͖̲̰̱̩̫̤̭̖̫̪̀͐̀͐̒͆̎̿̅̕͝ŕ̸̜͙̓̃͋̐̐̍̒͒͗̕.̶̢̢̨̦͍̲̮̣̮̜̌̈́̆͆̀̅͜ͅ ̴̘̩͔͈̣̙̻̱̞̩͕̎͜͝M̸̞͌̋̾̆̃̒̎̈́̕͘o̸̧̨̬͙̫̞̥̱͍͓̤̍̚͜ơ̴̹̝̏͒͛̀͐͋͐̅͗̐̉͜͠n̶̨̝͚̝̥̠̘͔̖̪̭̩̣͉̿̓͒͐̐̉͘̚͜͝͝͝?̷̟̲͙̩̬̱̳̌̈́́͛͐̇ͅ ̶̱̠̞̈̊̈̆͊̐̑̌̓̓̈́͜Ẃ̶̛̳̉̐̽́͆̍͗̐̚-̵̨̺̠͔͔͖̬͕̩̙̦̻̘̏̌̈́͜͠͝͝ͅW̴͕̪̣̹̍́̚h̴̹͕̓̂͂͌̽̄a̸̠̓t̸̝̖̝̗̍̈́͘ ̴͍͚̩̳̹͉̲̂̓̈̇́̍͝͝a̶͓̯͔̟̪̜͓͕̰̖̜̠͔̿̇̾̊̒̈́̅̃̏́͜͠r̴̬͍̾͆̾̆̑͊͌͝e̶̛̹̦̹̰̜̝̰̮̐̊̊̑̊ ̴̣̙͖̹̮̭̦̌͊̓͂͗͗̀̈͑ͅy̷̧̩̤̫̫̤͙̮͎̪̥͍̮̯̐̀̐̓̅́͑̋̍͋͑̏͑̒͠ͅo̵̪̝̟̅͑̃ͅṳ̸̟̠̘̖͚́͋͑́̀̍́͊̈́ ̸̢̬̻̘̫̼̈́͐͆́d̸͙̖͕̩̦̓͋̎ͅo̵͚̤͈̪̗̐͊ͅį̵̲̘̝͈̜͈̗̎ņ̸̢̲̹͂̄̿̆̾̈́̀͆͝ģ̸̗̞̟̲̞̏̃́̀̃͗͆́͒?̸͖̭͉͚́͗͑͋̑͋̏̒ ̸͉̤̖͉̤͍̭͆̍͐͛Ơ̸͚̼̦̞̱͚̜͙̇̍̓͗̊̇̓̆͝u̴̱̪̦̅̽̂̅̆̂̑͆̌͜ç̸͍͍̘̬̦̬͍̙͚̝͔͂̒̊̌͂́͑̏̈́̈́̅̆̏̒̉͜h̴̛̛͓̝͗͑͆̅̉̑͑͐̀̅͋̈̚!̷̨̝̱̞̗͖͓͚̱̊̓͝ ̶̡̨̦̘̺̹̝̯͈̤̝̍͛͆̀̃͘̕ͅT̵̢̝͉̱̲̼̭̼͇̤̞̀̄̏̎̈́͐̌̿̐̈́͒̈́͐̚͝ḩ̵͍̩̺̪̜̿̉̍́ą̷̢̢͙̬̥̬̱͕͔̰̜̙̘̎t̶̛̰͍̜̝̞̖͍͖̞̂̌͂͆͆̀̈̎̔̂͘ͅ ̴̧͚̪̤͈͈͖͓͕̣̗̩̓̀́̈͂͐̑̓͛̂͛̒ͅh̵̗͉̹̞͍͍͙̱̖͒̈́̄͒͛̌̇̉͑̃̄̐̉͐̕ų̴̤͍̬̼̝̥̺͎̣͐͛̍̈̒͊̏͝ͅr̷̯̤̜͍̘̘̳̉͑͋̓̏̎͠ͅt̶̡̧̡̹͈̻͚̻̤͇͈͔̮̅͆͌̆̅̋̅͑͊̿̏̾s̷̡̛̺̜̤̰͓͉̙̼͋͂̍͐̎̈́̒̓̉͒̕̕-̴̮͂̑̍̏̉̈́̽̈́͑̇̚ ̴̙͠

‘..unny! ‘

‘..drop..!’

‘SUNNY!’

Sundrop’s voice box spurted, almost like a gasp. He flinched hard, landing backwards and onto the floor of their room. His fans whirred, rays spinning at unreasonable speeds. “Go away, goawaygoawaygoaway-” His voice box whined, not unlike a sob. The kids weren’t coming back. He knew that. But it hurt. It hurt too much. Sundrop pressed his knees to his chest, curling in on himself. ‘Sun. You’re okay, okay? Remember what Hedwig said?’ Moon spoke softly.

Sunny sniffed.

“N-Not to call her that?” Moon snickered. ‘No, the other thing.’

“Right. I-It’s okay to not feel okay sometimes.”

‘Exactly. Things will work out on their own, you dummy.’

“Hey! Name-calling isn’t allowed~!”

‘Dummy. Idiot. Nada intelligente.’

“I’m rubber, you’re glue! Everything you say bounces off me and sticks to you!” Sundrop rehearsed in a sing-song voice.

It was then he heard it; the ballpit! Someone was in the ballpit! Crawling to the balcony, Sun glanced over the edge to see- a kid! A Child!! A real life, super duper uber squishy new best friend! Finally, Sunny had a purpose again.

----

“Rule breaker, rulebreaker! You are BANNED from the daycare!!” Sunny’s words rang in his mind. “Do..didja think I was too hard on him?” Sun murmured, sitting at one of the kiddie tables, crayon in hand as he doodled. Him, Moon, and Ģ̶͇͔̞͓̘̳̙̱͇̟͎̞̦̐̇̃̈̿̈́̃̆̚r̵̻̫̊̑̐̒̄̍͝͝͠͝é̶̳͈̭͔̼͌̓̈́̅̄̋̎͋̐͑̒̚͘g̸̹̟̻̫̙̠̯̑͑̏͌͊̒͠ơ̶̡̙͆͗̀̓̊̀̈́̍͘͜͜r̵̛̛̞̙̺̥̲̻̲̖̣̺̦͋̈́̈́̏̎͂y̵̡̗̦̮̰͖̣̬̥͉̐́͜ͅ,

‘I think that little Ṛ̴̢̟͔̹̣͚̙͈̻̪̳͖͒͌̾̅͛̿͝ͅU̶̡͔̯͛̃̾͑̀L̸̨̛̓̎͐Ę̷̫͉͚͂̑̌͐̈͌͝B̵̡̛̦̹͕͔̹̺͉̟͇̝͎̽́̓́͛̀͜R̴̡̛͎͕̟̭̼͙̣̮͍͖̊̂̾̋̏͜E̶͉̼̒͒̎̎̏͋̿̚̚Ą̷̛̣̪͙͙̖̱͙̟̩̦̟͕̉͗͒̓̽̓͑͜ͅḰ̶̩̮̣́̽̐̈́̓͐̋̽̈́̅̄͝E̴̢̨̮̦̞͚͉̤̱͚̤͊ͅR̸̛̫͕͕̆̀͂̀̐̏͝ got what he deserved.’

Sunny hummed in response, dropping the crayon. He was tired.

‘..I’m sorry Sun.’

“I know.”

-----

Moon sat on the edge of the balcony, kicking his feet gently. The power had gone out, Vanessa was dead--as was most of the other staff:--and for the first time in almost two years, he was virus free. His eyes shifted to the large wooden door across the daycare, which was currently ablaze. Flames licked the sides of the walls, climbing further and further up towards the ceiling as smoke billowed around them.

“Do- Do you think we’ll see them again? The children?”

“..glitter glue.” Moon responded.

“Wha…what?”

“Glitter glue. This-” he rasped, clawing at his faceplate as he laughed almost manically. “This- This situation is stickier than ģ̷͉͖̩̺͕̝̰̦̮̺̼̔̓́́̽̓̈́͗̓̂̎̽ͅ-̷̜̳̰̗̻̪̋̒̊̐̒͝g̶̢̨̲̩͌͂̂͑͊͊̈́̽͐̐̀͘̚-̶̹̜͕͖̪̤͖̜̰͖̞̦̒̂́͋́̏ģ̶̢̡̣̪͚͔̻̠̤̺̩́̊̒͊̈́ͅl̴̢̻̦̞̑̃̀͌̔́͝i̸̧̢̮̻̠̭̺͕̞͚͓̯̽̑͗̉̈́̈́̌͝ͅt̵̨̳̘̳͗̽̃͋́̅t̵͈͍̪̲͚̮̫̬̠͕͔̦͚̉̈́͊͐̓̐̓̉̎̑̚e̷̢̝͕͉̭͓̦̥̙̬͎̠̟͗̀̿̆̈́́̈̋̏̅͘͠ͅr̵͈̫͔̝̲͍̼̿̑̇̈́͊̿̚͠ ̶̨̧̡̛̺̯͈̦̩͈̠͈̣͕́͌͂̑̓̂ͅͅġ̶̭̥̙̳̥̱̖̅̍͑̾͋̓͑͘͠l̴̢͇̹̦̜̹̣̙̤̺̣̺̖̝̳̿̒̔͋̈̿̀̕͝ű̶͍̜͔̓́̆̀̏̎̐̀́̈́̂́͘ẻ̵̯̰̪̳̠̤͕͚̥͉̺̲̎ ̴̛̫͕̎̇͌́̈́͌̓͝/ “

“Are we going to die?”

“Death is a concept, Sunny.”

“I don’t want to die, Moonie.”

“...I know, Sun.” Moon’s gaze lifted to the ceiling as the play structures burned. ‘More like melting.’ he thought. Moon could almost feel the frown from his counterpart. It only added to the hilarity of this situation.

‘I don’t want to die.’ Sundrop repeated. Moon hugged himself tightly. “I don’t think we’re getting out of this one, Brother.” Moon murmured.

“I-I want to see them again. I want to see Jamie. And Cameron. And Kyle. And Charlie. And Morgan.” Sun whined. “I don’t want them to think we didn’t care about them. Oh no. NononononNONO-”

Moon winced. “Sundrop. Calm down.” He weakly protested. “They loved us. They knew we loved them. They- They didn’t..They didn’t wake up while ş̶̧̛̫͉̬̃͒͛͆́̀̋̔́̍͠͝͝ḫ̸̡̧͚̠̦͕̩͙̕e̵̺̬͈͒̋̕͠ had her way.”

“Do you think they hurt?”

“Sunny, please. I don’t- I dont wanna talk about this.”

‘...’

‘I miss you.’

The tip of his hat caught the flames, carefully making their way up the fur. The brightness triggered them to shift, Sun now taking the place where Moon once was. His hand shakily reached up to their softening faceplate. “Heh. G-Guess they should have made us out of metal instead.” He spoke.

“I miss you too.”

“I-It used to be different. Do you remember, Moonie? Do ya, do ya?”

“Vaguely. I know things used to be..different. Before.”

Sunny’s rays dripped, melting plastic dripdripDRIPing down his face. He couldn’t see anymore, but he knew it was bright. And hot.

“They-They told us, they promised us they’d come back! It- IT’LL BE OKAY! It’s gonna be so so so super duper AWESOME! Moonie! We’re- We’re gonna- We’re gonna see the kids again- I-” his voice box broke off, as his arms wrapped around himself. His once brilliant crimson outfit was engulfed in flames, slowly dispersing from his form. “I..I don’t want to go.” Sunny’s voice broke, falling into a strangled sob.

“I love you, Sunny. I’m so so sorry. For everything.”

“D-Don’t b-b-be s-s-silly! S-s-s-silly s-silly Mooo̵̧̭͈͕̹͈̮͛̔̔̎̀̃̄̽͑̂͂͒͑ö̵̙̬̆̈͂̈́̀̍͐̚͘̚͠͠͝n̴̥̘̈́̽̓̈́̎̂̓̓̓͋̀́̕̚͝d̷̼̠̻̟̫̤̠̳̳̞̀̔̀̌̓̇̍́̿͛̄͐̕͠r̷̨͕̦͕̦̬̰̪̤̞̍̓̽͋́͗́̓̈́̊̒̈́͑͠ò̸̥̙̤̗͉̭̬̄͆̈́͂̎̀̐̆͠͠ͅp̴̛̙̠̜̬̬̠͍̪̰̯̲͒́̍͗͒̉́̓́̈́̚.̶̢̙̚ ̸̝̳̮͕͆͂̅̅͆̈́͗̈́̏͘̕͘͝͝Y̵̰͇̰͔̭͆͋̎̄̒̊̆͑̅̉̊̚͘͜o̶̰̝̯̻̖̓͛̆̀͐̐͠ŭ̶̧̻͇̬̳͈̩͉̹̮͕͍̽ ̵̛̖̦̺̺̙̱̬̻̂̀͌̑̌̔̐͐k̵̢̡̨̧̢̛͎̙̜͎̫̻̬͇̜̖̂̔͂̓̔n̵̡̖̣͎̬̱̠̹͇̯̩̞̜͔̾͂̾̓́̾ǫ̷̟͎̻̰̱͂̊̾̿̎͂͋̓̀̍̊̈́̚̕͝ͅw̶̨̧̳̦̹̝͇̗̼͐́̾̏̏̏̎́̋͘ ̵͕̙̹͝I̵̧̨̛̦͓̻̳̗͈͉͔̮̾͆̆͆̚͠ͅͅ ̸̡̧̡̨̭͖̞̩̩̦͙̋͊̇̀̚̕ͅn̵̪̓̇̀̍̄̊e̸̙̿̅̈́̑͋̍͒̓͒̄͂͠͝v̴̢̮̜̠͎̣̱̦̲̱̠̭̣͂̓͊̆̔̈̈́̓̿͝ề̵̖̻͎̩̩̳̥̭͎͎̖́͋̔̇̓̀̇́̒͒͘͜͝r̶̢̞̘̥̣̘͉͍̣̎̋̌̾͜ ̷̜͉̙̠̥̮͓̮̫̭͈̞̜̟͉͐͐͊̈́͠ḇ̷͓͇̯͕̭͈͖̲̜̒̀́̽̿͑͆̄̐̎͌̀́̕͝l̷̥̻͇̪̠̹̱̤̙̈͆̌̈́͌̑̈́̀̎̀͝a̷̯̝͎̻̟̦̯͎͉̓̈́́̌̂̅͊͛́̊̇̌̓͂m̶̰̠̹̘͓̿͛̇̔͂̓͘ę̴̖̟̹̾́̈̉̍̈̀d̸̢̢̢̻̠͖̖͎̖̭̫̆̈̈́̓̍̃̑͆͐͂̓͘̕̕͜͝ ̶̨̛͛̓͆̎̀͗͌̋̚ȳ̴̲̹̟̲̀̐̀̓͊̎͜ͅo̴̢͔̟̳̲̝̩͉̻̘̺͕͚͋ụ̸͓͆̑͜.̷̧̡̨̢̝͉̭̻̠͈̗̗̆̾̑̏̾̀̌͐̈́̚̕͠ͅ”

“I’m sorry.”

“D-D-Don’t Apologiiiiiiiiiii-”

Sundrop and Moondrop never liked the quiet. But now, it was deafening.

It was silent.

The pizzaplex blazed, billowing smoke and all those within were taken by the insatiable hunger of the flames.

The Daycare burned.

The Children Burned.

The Daycare Attendant burned, and alongside him the Naptime Attendant burned.

‘I don’t wanna go.’

———

((((BONUS CONTENT: MY ORIGINAL IDEA LOL)))

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1DHC1lawx9Ke6tzBq1CK_sVcsNTUlk10-LCxRMhcCnf0/edit

[vixensofsorrow]

Demolition Lovers - Ⅴ the moon follows me home

DISCLAIMER: This fic is a long slowburn with multiple chapters, still being updated. also on AO3 my masterlist (all the chapters are linked there) PAIRING: young!Carol Denning/fem!reader OVERALL SUMMARY: An exploration of your and Carol's relationship through the years. CHAPTER SUMMARY: Law mandated Halloween chapter (or in this case summerween). Carol gets to spend more time with your friends. CHAPTER TAGS: fluff, jealousy, Halloween, very coming of age methinks, slight angst (?) A/N: I AM SO SORRY THAT IT TOOK ME THIS LONG TO UPDATE BUT THIS FIC BURNED ME OUT BADD. tysm to my friend for beta reading it. also this is more of a filler chapter but there can't be action all the time!!!

Carol came to school for the first time in three days, and you decided that you should officially introduce her to your friends, at least the ones you share lunch with — the only time for proper socialization during school hours. 

You were concerned about her. The bruises haven’t left your mind since you had that one look at them; but at the same time, you decided that it was best not to pry. She would tell you about them when she was ready.

The cafeteria lady carelessly served your portion of the mashed potatoes, and you exchanged a look of disgust with Denning as the line kept moving. You paid for the food, and Kristen waved as she saw you both approaching. The blonde greeted Carol, who took a seat next to you.

“Hey, Kristen.” She gave a sheepish smile, capturing the attention of your friends.

Nobody spoke. You cleared your throat, breaking the awkward silence. “Carol, this is Gina Hardy and Rachel Sullivan, Gina and Rachel, this is Carol Denning.”

“I probably should’ve introduced myself at the party, but nice to finally meet you.” Sullivan grinned slightly, opening a can of Coke, meanwhile Gina nodded.

“Yeah, same here.” Denning muttered as she turned her head. She swiftly turned it back around, groaning, and furrowed her eyebrows so low that you could see them clearly behind her huge glasses. “Fuckin’ hell, I can’t even catch a break from her at lunch.” She whispered to herself as Kristen pulled out an orange flyer from her backpack. You had seen it earlier being handed out by Nancy — one of the Valley Girls.

“Are any of you coming?” She laid it on the table; but before you could take a better look, Hardy immediately snatched the paper, crumbling it up. Carol let out a giggle at the look on Kristen’s face, and you and Rachel couldn’t help but follow.

“What’d you do that for!?” Kristen raised her hands in annoyance.

“Wolfe, it’s Nancy’s party.” She leveled the blonde with a stern glare before walking off to throw away the flyer. Everyone sat in stunned silence.

Gina sat back down, and Kristen stammered, trying to apologize.

“It’s fine, really. I do have an idea, though.” The defensive midfielder smirked, and you raised an eyebrow at Denning. “We can just hang out at my place! You haven’t even seen the renovated basement yet! I have a sick TV set-up down there, and if we get bored we could go trick or treating. Or just… scare the kids, y’know, or whatever else we want. Oh, by the way, this includes you too, Carol.” She chewed on a chocolate bar. 

Carol flashed her dimples, looking grateful. She gave Gina a quiet “Thanks.”

You’ve been sitting on the curb in front of your house dressed as Laurie Strode, looking like a lonely loser while you waited for Rachel; watching kids joyfully running down the block, everything lit up by Halloween decorations. 

The sight of so many people outside simultaneously was strange — it was truly a once in a blue moon occurrence. Many different groups of middle schoolers came up to you demanding candy, most likely thinking that your parents forced you to be the keeper of sweet treats this year; but every time you disappointed them by saying that they needed to use their scrawny legs and walk over to the house behind you, that to them, seemed like miles away. The more confident kids asked about your costume, and to your surprise, some even knew who you dressed up as.

Your head shot up to the sudden sound of tires screeching, music blaring, and honking in the distance. People scattered to the sidewalk as the red, janky car approached closer.

You got up, your knees producing a crack not unlike a grandma’s knees would, and waved at the vehicle.

Finally, Rachel pulled up to the sidewalk. You sat in the back and rubbed your hands together for warmth. Veronica was squeezed in the middle, separating you from Carol, who was in a Michael Myers outfit. The two of you decided on wearing matching costumes for Halloween, just like when you were kids. In the passenger seat, there was Erica Cervantes — Sullivan’s closest friend; a very skilled and highly ambitious player on your soccer team.

You firmly shut the car door as Rachel drove off towards the dimly lit street leading to Gina’s house.

“Hey, Blondie or The Clash?” Erica turned her head to the girls in the back, holding up two tapes. You looked over to Vee and Carol, attempting to read their expressions, trying to tell which one they wanted to pick. The latter caught you staring and smiled while adjusting her glasses, and you couldn’t help but return the gesture with a shy grin of your own.

“Come on, obviously The Clash! Speaking of — Rachel, you oughta give me that tape back someday, I swear.” Veronica complained, but as soon as Erica inserted the cassette, she began to sing along loudly, while tapping her fingers to the beat on the car door.

Carol chuckled, rolled the window down, and lit up a cigarette. The fresh, cold wind mixed with tobacco smoke hit you in the face and you exhaled, admiring her reflection on your side of the glass. You had a feeling that tonight would be a lot of fun — certainly better than that disaster party at Nicole’s.

Denning passed the cigarette around. To your delighted surprise, she joined in on the singing, although softly. It was good to see her in a better mood after the last couple of days, especially after she confided in you about her feelings of alienation and isolation. You hoped that given enough time, she would begin to feel comfortable with the group. You couldn’t help but think that slightly pleased expression suited her.

Your train of thought came to a sudden end as you reached the Hardy residence — a wide, split-level house only separated from the car lane by a patchy front lawn.

As you were waiting for someone to answer the door, Carol stuffed some candies from the plastic pumpkin bowl left out on the porch in her pockets. The sound of Gina’s hurried steps approached closer, along with shouts directed at her mother. She finally let you all inside with a big, welcoming grin plastered all over her face, and led the way toward the basement with a spring in her step.

The first thing that caught your attention were the Christmas lights hanging from the ceiling — the only source of light. Gina wasn’t lying — she had a huge TV, probably 22 inches, placed in the center of a huge, old, wooden cabinet. Next to it was a shelf containing a massive collection of movies, ranging from B-class horror to Oscar-winning dramas. In the cabinet below the TV was a VHS player, covered in stickers with designs based on a bunch of underground punk bands that a maximum of five people had ever heard of. On the very bottom, on opposite ends from each other, there stood two huge speakers. The rest was cluttered with various books, vinyls, jewelry cases (that most likely were used for other purposes), and other paraphernalia.

In front of the cabinet stood a worn down, brown, leather couch upon which sat Kris; her legs stretched out on a very cluttered coffee table. Piles of pillows had been placed on the layered, Persian rugs. The cigarette smoke-stained yellow walls have been covered in a bunch of posters. Candles had been put in every possible nook along with other cheap decorations, but with the amount of boxes scattered around the place, it seemed like Gina still wasn’t done with the renovations. 

Cervantes took a seat on the couch while you and Carol sat on a pillow pile and leaned against it.

“So, thoughts?” The hostess asked, leaning on the handrail. Everyone talked over each other, excitedly complimenting the space.

Kristen pulled out a vanity case and a few magazines from her bag, then laid out the makeup on the table. 

“Who wants to go first?” Kris held up the magazines in front of her face. “I can do something scary… like the deadites from Evil Dead, or you know, something pretty like…” She flipped through the pages of a Glamour issue. “…This! This is cute, or I could do that one!”

Erica chuckled quietly, snatching one of the papers away from the blonde girl. She browsed through it, showing some pictures to Veronica, who just sat down next to you.

Gina exchanged a look with Carol that read something like ‘Hope you’re ready for the ride’ as she walked over to choose a selection of movies for the night.

“I’ll bite.” The goalkeeper sat down cross-legged in front of Kris.

“Rachel, you should try this one out.” Vee teased, pointing at an extravagant, high-fashion editorial look, and Erica laughed at the idea.

“Yeah, right.” She scoffed. “Mmm… I wanna be Carrie.”

“Carrie? Why, ‘cause she’s also a ginger?” You nudged her leg. 

Carol drew her eyebrows together. “Dude, Carrie’s not even ginger.”

“Yeah, I don’t know where you got that from, Enge.” Rachel sneered, as Gina set tapes down on the table and went on to grab some beer. Kristen picked up her palette and applied light pink eyeshadow on Rachel’s eyelids. 

“Oh, shut up, her hair’s ginger when she’s covered in blood.” You argued, checking out the cassettes as Veronica rested her head on your shoulder. You could feel a heavy, cold gaze relentlessly probing at your clavicle, but it immediately went away when you faced Carol.

The punk girl came back and handed out the bottles to everyone except for Rachel — your responsible chauffeur.

After a discussion that went on for way too long, you finally landed on a movie to watch — The Silent Scream, but after about 40 minutes, the film turned into background noise for multiple rounds of bridge; a game that Erica and Vee were masters at, and that Carol seemed to enjoy even though when you played against them, the two of you kept on losing. With time, you also lost interest in that, and noticing it was getting late, you were considering the prospect of going home — but ultimately decided the night was still young and full of opportunities.

Armed with a repurposed pillowcase that served as a candy bag, some toilet paper, a few eggs, and shaving cream you all squeezed into the car. Your collective weight would definitely grant Rachel a ticket for overloading the vehicle if she were caught, so you hurriedly headed towards the wealthy neighborhood.

All the bright, flashy lights and tacky decorations which adorned the rows of McMansions along with children and some of your peers yelling and running down the street collectively manifested in your head as an ache that made it hard to think. Your friends, walking in front of you, were deciding on whose home to vandalize, meanwhile, in the back, you and Carol were reminiscing on the times when you would walk down the same streets, trick or treating.

The memories quickly turned bitter, as the realization of all the time you lost hit you like a truck. Sure, you eventually made new friends, good friends that you enjoyed hanging out with, but it was nothing compared to the bond between Denning and you. In the midst of your brooding, an orotund, female voice brought you down to earth.

“Hey, Y/N? What do you think about Tonya?” Erica questioned, to the discontent of Carol, who put a big Jawbreaker candy in her mouth.

Well, that caught you off guard — Tonya was the newest girl on the team, who quite frankly you weren't fond of. You felt that she wasn’t putting in enough work, and her attitude pissed you off too, but you never brought it up.

“Uh, why’d you ask?” You furrowed your brows.

“I just wanna know. Be honest.”

“I mean, we definitely have better players on the team.” You made eye contact with Denning, whose eyes narrowed in suspicion.

“Right, right.” The other midfielder crossed her arms, as she bit her lip and focused her gaze on you. The three of you walked in awkward silence, and you could tell that she wanted a more definitive answer.

“Fine, okay. I don’t like her.” You threw your arms in the air, and she gave you a quick smile of satisfaction, breaking the tension.

“Girl, me neither. Anyway, thanks.” She said, catching up to speed with the rest of the group, without further explanation.

“The hell was that about?” Denning asked, her speech distorted by the candy she swished around in her mouth, and adjusted the Michael Myers mask to the left side of her face.

“I’m not even sure? Something about whether I like this one girl on the team or not.” You put your hands inside the pockets of your jeans.

“I mean, I fuckin’ heard that, but I’m just confused as to why, y’know.” 

“Yeah so am I, Care—, uh, Carol.”

Suddenly, the girls stopped in their tracks and turned to you, describing their mischievous plan — trashing the house of Gina’s ex.

Rachel handed out the necessary items to each person. You stashed yours and Carol’s inside the shabby pillowcase and dashed after Hardy as the sweets Denning stole from her house fell out of her jacket.

You hid in the bushes of the plastic, way too perfectly mowed lawn, trying your hardest not to burst out laughing, and waited for the “go” sign as Cervantes kept watch. After a while, Kristen and Veronica rapidly nodded their heads and chaos ensued; toilet paper flew everywhere, draping off the orange and brown trees, white beams, windows, the balcony, the freshly built gazebo, and the roof. You dodged the eggs that gracefully cracked when they hit the walls and bumped into Carol, whose face turned tomato red from trying to hold back the laughter. She gave you the two other cans of shaving foam and grabbed your sweaty hand, rushing closer toward the house. You smeared the cream all over the kitchen windows as Vee and Gina threw around even more paper. You could hear a commotion starting inside and knew the residents noticed what you were doing. Right as she was flinging the last egg, Rachel gesticulated aggressively that it was time to dip.

You all made a run for it, cackling like maniacs and talking over each other, leaving the beautiful, messy scene of the crime.

Unfortunately, the Halloween shenanigans had to eventually end, since everyone had school tomorrow. All the fun you had left was scaring some kids while on your way to Sullivan’s car. You chased each other with a prop knife, letting out the most convincing terrified screams you were capable of while running down the block until your legs couldn’t handle it anymore.

“I thought my stamina was better than this.” Veronica panted, resting her hands on her thighs, while she stopped to take a breath.

You chuckled. “In that case, you need to up your game before the championships, Vasquez!” You imitated your coach, half joking, half serious.

You didn’t exactly know why you were putting so much pressure on yourself — and your teammates this year. What if, unconsciously, you were trying to impress Carol? No, no way. You acted like this, way before she moved in. 

“God, don’t even.” She rolled her eyes, slightly leaning against you. You started to pick up the pace again. “Oh, by the way, did Eri…” Vee began to talk about something, but your mind drowned her out as your attention suddenly tunnel-visioned to a strangely giddy Carol, conversing with a guy, a few of his friends trailing in the background, all of whom you recognized from school.

No matter how much you wanted to, you couldn’t stop looking at them — the two of them. Your narrowed eyes filled up with tears from the lack of blinking, and you could've sworn that you forgot how to breathe. Denning turned her head and stared at you like a statue at an exhibition. Her smirk burned through you, amplifying your emotions even more after she focused back on him.

You hadn’t even noticed when she grabbed your shoulder, slightly shaking it to get your attention. “Hey, Y/N. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Carol gesticulated, pointing at the three teens that were waiting for her.

You blinked rapidly, as her words rattled you back to reality. “What? Hold on, what are you talking ‘bout? What?”

“I’m just gonna hang out with Travis and his friends. I’ll see you.” She waved to your group, taking her leave.

“Right… Yeah, have fun.” You lied through the teeth that gritted so hard, you could almost feel the enamel peeling off. The jealousy inside stirred even more than before, as the two of you observed one another while walking off in opposite directions.

[ofmermaidstories]

(This is all about ''Something (just like this'' :], i apolagize in advance)

Theres an auther (you, i'm thinking of you) that has given sutch weight to the simple human pains everyone has, let them cary a greaf in every breath they're mentioned, i can't help but ache with the mc as one because i get it, i understand and even if i handn't felt the same pain that crushes your hope of ever being loved in the same way you do, if i hadn't though myself cynical and bitter the way she does i still think i'd get it.

I still think i'd be able to see myself cradle my heart like an infant, even though it's an old ugly, terrable creature.

The plots so ritch it's unbalivable that i get to read your works for free, like i knew it was her bestfried the second our artist glaced over her sholder and saw her drawing kids with guns in masks. But it was her best-fucking-fried, who dies without answering her livid questioning.

It's her constant self awair bitternes to the person she is that just-

Chefs fucking kiss.

Like the way she views herself and everyone else she thinks threatens the few things she sees as good in her with a sort of cynicalnes, but through herself that is bloody perfect.

Shes insane for the shit she pulls, Gods i love her.

I cannot expres enough of my love for the way you craft your words, the story and the way you put so mutch care into it makes me ill.

Izuku is caprured so well, his whole being being intertwined with Katsukies-....i am going feral as we speak.

Also her being an artist so acuretly presented, it's insane, the way she is about her skill, her talents, her works and her instuments and the way there are these little moments she wants to capture is so stupidly accurate to how i see the world as a creative. Always hungry and always craving to make, even when im no where near a peace of paper or even the shittiest of pens.

Im grinning and in fucking tears. (As i was writing all of this in my notes i wasn t even that far into the last chapter.)

Holy fuck, god i fucking despise Hana. And i get why, and im amazed at how her resoning, her pain and anger dosn't justify(?) shit when i've seen a lot of things where someones inhumane actions get swept under the rug cus they were hurting quietly, or something.

She was like a quirk nazi. Nothing redeams(?) that, y'know?

Auther i am shaking you by the sholders, and im sorry if my nails dig in too deep but holy fuck. Breathings hard, fic so good my rib cage has started to feel too small for my heart, and my lungs, and the hole your story has carved inbetween all of it.

Fic so good i haven't even gotten to the end and i want to thank you for, for all this has done to me. I'm shit with fics where there are a lot of words, no matter how mutch i love the characters and yet, and yet somehow this is one of the 100k + fanfics i have enjoyed every gut wrenching second of.

I feel like vomiting

In fact

I might.

They all need therapy after this, methinks.

(I know this is long and loopy, and my english (my second language) is not great, and that ultametly i kinda said nothing but i needed you to see (at least a little bit of) how insanely wonderful your craft is)

Anywho, i still haven't finished, and that was a lot of words, but i hope you have a lovely 24 h, i wish you the best with all of your future works. "Something (just like this)" has...given me brain damadge i'm guessing.

Blue, there is nothing to apologise for, I think you are wonderful. 🥺 You said everything. 🥺 From this message alone—from you taking the time to write it, and send it, I can tell you that there’s nothing about your heart that’s old or ugly or terrible. If anything, I think it’s golden—like the afternoon sun, reflecting all that good light back until it’s too much to hold. 🥹🫀✨

But okay, lemme try and do the thoughtfulness of this ask some justice. 🥹💕 God, to be honest I kinda worried about Hana, and her place in the story. Like—knowing how it was going to end. I think a lot of us will end up parting ways with people in our life that were important—and some, unfortunately, for ugly reasons. Hana’s betrayal is like, so extreme, so dramatic and terrible. And it doesn’t just hurt Reader, it hurt other people, kids. Like sure, Hana was hurt—but then she turned around and hurt others, willingly. And there’s no justice for the ones she directly affects. You’re right, Blue. You can’t redeem that—you can only pick up the pieces around it.

Tbh, I think Reader’s bitterness would’ve made building a life after it all that much harder, if it weren’t for other people. 🥹 Like—Scribbles cynical nature was such a fun part of writing the fic, lmao, and it absolutely would’ve made life that much harder for her in the aftermath if she didn’t have support. 🥹 I think someone like Scribbles, who barely trusts themselves, was a good match/contrast for Izuku who—like, even in canon is learning to overcome the worst of his most fear-driven habits. It gives him the ability to see Scribbles in a way that—that she needed. 🥺

Bluey!!! You’re an artist too??? Like our Reader. 🥹 The need to document everything is so real lmao. Like—it’s constant!! An insatiable way of looking at the world. 🥹 How do I capture this, how can I do this. I literally just had that feeling the other night, driving home under a perfectly straight trail of cloud like a comet’s tail. The sky was that perfect, indigo glow, and there was a single star alongside of it and it genuinely looked like the trail of a meteorite streaking over the sky and I wanted to remember everything about it. I wanted to draw it, write it, anything to keep it.

Blue, you have said so many kind things about my writing. 🥺 Either in this ask or in the tags of other things. And!!! It means so much to me, every time. 🥺 This is what I mean when I say you have a reflective, golden heart. 🥹💛🌿 I’m always going to be glad that like, I could write something that made you wanna reach out and say hello, lmao, but mostly I’m just glad you’re here. ☀️

(Also, as an aside—you mentioned a song, in the tags of one post a little while ago. I wanted you to know that I immediately ran to spotify to try and find it, lmao, and listen to it and like, now it lives in my likes and every time I listen to it I think of you and also of maybe trying to write a Bakugou worthy of the association, lmao. It’s such a sweet song, Blue, thank-you for the new music 🌷)

[d10nyx]

this ones lengthy i fear.. bear w me.. (◞‸◟")

…married!ada & married!leon (damnation methinks) on the verge of divorcing, marriage CRUMBLING! ada’s always been distant, & leon’s drinking away his sorrows. theyre just coexisting nowadays, all can see the tension! going to a small cafe to escape leon’s bitching, have time to herself—ada meets barista!reader; clumsy, dumb college girl just tryna get by.. adas got 0 shame in bluntly flirting to see reader’s face go bright red—rlly reminds ada of when leon was younger & cuter & wasn’t begging to have a family yet :/ …visiting often, ada slowly coaxes reader into a sexual relationship w her, telling reader tht she def isnt married!!! reader believes her bc ada’s soo trustworthy!!!.... & bc she’s ada, ofc she’s gonna fuck reader right in her & leon’s shared bed! the risk of getting caught makes ada cum faster than leon could ever get her to! 0 strings attached, great orgasms, an obedient toy?? ada’s sold<3

leon’s getting suspicious, ada seems less pissy nowadays! so he decides to follow ada when he isn’t on a mission—to a cafe?? watching from outside,, she’s just talking w the barista? he’s so silly; ada just made a new friend!! ada wouldn’t mind if he got to know her new friend too right?.. when ada leaves, leon enters & does exactly that! readers so impressionable; so cute & young, it makes his dick twitch! & he hasn’t been touched in sooo long, wants a kid but his bitch wife doesnt... mfs traumadumping on poor reader til she lets him fuck her stupid bc she’s so kind! she makes leon forget his failing marriage! he comes back for more instead of going to a bar in his free time now, trying to make her a mommy<3

ada & leon r unaware tht theyre cheating on each other w the same girl… til leon does catch ada scissoring some girl!! doesn’t take him long to recognize reader, & says her name in confusion!! all 3 freeze, but ada & leon connect the dots. pissed at each other, they try to outdo 1 another by seeing who can make reader cum the quickest. reader becomes the glue & stress reliever in their relationship when she’s just tryna go back to being a normal barista... & it doesn’t seem like either r gonna let her leave anytime soon—not when leons trying to fuck a baby into her & ada just wants an outlet from her marriage </3

gulp.. my longest thought by far.. but a little treat for u<3

-🍼

A TREAT IS RIGHT LIKE... good lord you need to write fics bcs these ideas are insane... better than anything i could cook up i fear...

AND HSNHGHH IT'S LIKE YOU KNOW HOW MUCH I LOVE BREEDING GOOD LORD !! leon tryna get reader pregnant driving me insane... ada the loml too omg slap me between those two and i'll simply pass away on the spot.

the idea of them keeping reader around as their personal little stress reliever ahahahahaha... i'm not okay... they both end up lowkey liking reader more than their spouse and everyone is just standing around like:

[cyberrat]

76th Batch Of Fics: 11th Fill

Cazador/fem!Tav – Part 3/3 – pre-established Tav/Astarion; rape/non-con; blood drinking; forced impregnation; changing POVs – Cazador's winning in every conceivable way.

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The despair on Astarion’s face is delicious. It is almost enough to satisfy Cazador in and off itself – if he weren’t currently enjoying the warm, generous hole of Astarion’s sweetheart. She takes him like a pro despite her growling.

He curls his arms around her hips, chin hooked over her shoulder as he pumps his hips against her ass, cock spearing her pussy over and over again.

It’s when she starts to become more quiet and her cunt trembles around his cock that things start to get really interesting.

Cazador’s gaze snaps back to Astarion, a smile slowly spreading across his face.

“Oh would you look at that… she’s about to come, isn’t she?”

Tav shakes her head violently no, her eyes clenched shut.

Cazador can’t keep from grinning, a positively unholy joy filling his chest.

“No?” he asks her, head turning so she can croon into her blood hot ear. “Are you saying your thighs aren’t trembling? Or that your delightful pussy hasn’t clamped down on my cock like it wants to strangle it?” He has completely stopped his thrusts just to feel the throb of her walls around his flexing shaft; and now he starts to move again. Slow. Deliberate as she immediately fights to stop everything that he mentioned – without success.

Tav is shaking her head again wildly. Cazador has to be careful so she wouldn’t knock him out but that’s fine. Everything is fine because this whole affair keeps getting better and better and better.

He barks out a single note of laughter, eyes boring into Astarion’s pale, agonized looking face. “The lady doth protest too much, methinks,” he announces, his hips still pumping nice and slow, taking care not to change the angle with wich he is spearing into her silky, throbbing body. The heat around his crown is intense; like he keeps dipping right into the very center of her being.

He can feel the tension mounting throughout her body. How desperately she is fighting against her response to be fucked by him.

Cazador thrusts harder, the snap of his hips causing Tav to throw her head back, her throat flushed and straining as she can’t cry out the lust she reluctantly feels. Slick keeps sliding down her thighs and glistening wet in the flickering lamp light of the room.

“You know what I think, my pet?” Cazador announces over her animal grunts as he fucks her faster; deeper; meaner. “I think that you did a wonderfully fine job in choosing her! She is a natural, is she not? So very easy; so eager for cock she even let a mongrel like you mount her.”

He stands up straighter, his arms around her body, forcing her more upright as well; her knees are visibly shaking as she tries to find some kind of purchase with her bound feet.

“It will have been the last time, though. Because from now on… she is mine. And she will pump out an army of loyal little pets for me! I’ll use her as my personal breeding bitch; I’ll fuck a new spawn into her the moment she gives birth to the last. I’ll have her swollen with my young over. And over again.

And the best thing is that she will love it. You know it as well as I do, do you not?” He’s starting to get out of breath as he fucks her, one hand cupping her stomach beneath her navel; the heel of his hand pressing into her to stimulate her from the outside as well. There are screeching little peaks in her moans now. She hates it but she can’t help it either. Her body is utterly betraying her and the sweetness is too heady to bear.

He answers his own question before Astarion can take a breath. “Of course you do! You can see how wild she’s getting for me. So lets hear her proper, shall we?”

Cazador snaps his fingers. The magic he used to keep her mouth shut had not been a big feat of power but it still feels good to only have to uphold one spell while he fucks this bitch’s brain out.

Just as predicted – and hoped – Tav wails her little damn heart out as he rabbit fucks her on his cock, pumping it into her with single-minded intent.

Her insides are having a death grip on him and the slick keeps sliding down to his balls where it itches and drives him wild in wholly different ways.

“FuuUuuuUuuuUuuUck!” Her voice keeps warbling as she is bounced on his dick, high-pitched in the cadence of a true whore that gets her cervix pummeled by the insistent push of his glans.

He wishes he could see her face; how she’s going cross eyed. But at least he can see Astarion as he witnesses his precious Tav’s corruption.

Cazador grabs her jaw, feeling her throat vibrating in his palm as she whines. She starts to fight again, her whole body trying to twist out of his grasp; one desperate last ditch effort to prevent the unpreventable.

He keeps his dick inside her. It’s like trying to ride a bucking horse, but she is trussed up and he is determined-

And finally she comes. Gurgling and sobbing, her whole body tensing as she convulses on his dick; a squirt of piss shooting from her lap and hitting the ground half a foot from her quiet, seething lover.

She slumps forward, all the tension gone out from her limbs.

Cazador would think her passed out from the intensity of her orgasm if he weren’t able to feel the warm pulsations around his cock and hear her low groaning.

“Easy now… we are not done yet, my precious little breeding sow,” he murmurs. With the hand still around her throat, he pulls her back up into position. His heart is racing. Her blood smells absolutely divine through the thin membrane of her skin. He is so close, he can taste the release on his tongue… but it is not as sweet as she will be once he’s pushed his fangs into her skin and drank her.

He has slowed down somewhat, giving himself time… but more so giving her time to regain her senses. He wants her to know what is happening.

He wants her to be alert and as filled with hate as Astarion is, kneeling in the corner, impotent and quietly raging.

Cazador searches his gaze and once he is sure that he has his undivided attention, he finally does it: he bites Tav.

It takes everything in him not to rip her throat out. Her blood gushing over his tongue and down his throat is orgasmic. Him pumping her full to his seed to the point of it gushing back out of her slick, overworked cunt is only prolonging the feeling into a sweet, sharp edge that lets him see the nighttime stars before his closed eyes.

Victory is so very, very sweet.

[pluviatrix]

Hello, I'm the one that asked about your fav Wars pics. I read all of your recs, plus your own works, and have determined that your taste is exquisite. Can you rec me other LU stuff? It does not have to be just about Wars this time.

MY OWN WORKS !!! :Dc hehe

ok get ready here they come. i realize a good chunk of these are the lu classics but i was here in 2021 and sort of stopped diving for fanfic back in like, mid-2022 so i'm sure i'm missing a lot of good ones i would otherwise enjoy, so sorry if theres nothing new here

barefoot diva by Seeking7

my bookmark note for this is: "oh what the fuck. does this person write poetry? they gotta. methinks mesmells poetry. shitchrist" so that should tell u what u gotta know. short n sweet. 1514

Captain Linebeck Accidentally Crushes On A DILF (who also happens to be the famed hero from before the world was flooded) Random_ag

i think u can probably tell just by the title but this one is fucking hilarious. 4245

Ode to Storms by Sinnatious

Oldie but a goodie. literally everything by this author really scratches my spooky/horror itch its sooooo good. if ur squeamish don't worry this is more conceptual horror. actually you know what i'm gonna link my other fave from this person here. (Retreat Reverse Rewind by Sinnatious) 16558 and 8379. also sinnatious has a reg zelda fic abt the hero of twilight and the hero of time that really plucks at ur heartstrings if ur up for that

Rescue Mission by theScrap_Witch

ok this one is just cute. its about aryll and wind and other such shenanigans. 6775

[note: someone is gonna think i'm bonkers for this but i absolutely LOVE major character death, so obligatory Grace series plug, but im fairly sure so many people know about it by now KLDJFSDF]

and still, the cradle blossoms by ME C:

shameless and obligatory self-plug. uhhh its like 48k some odd words. sorry. if u like character studies and stories about love you'll get smth out of it i think.

[heich0e]

Dear Liv,

LIV this is so overdue there have been multiple moments this week where I wanted to send you an ask! I’ve narrowed it down to three things for now.

1. I am trying to enter my Shakespeare era by reading his sonnets and Nr. 19 reminds me of your Vampire Matsuhana before makki turned mattsun. This is solely want I’m getting from the sonnet: begging time to spare his lover from aging. It gives me major human x vampire romance :(((

2. I started a webtoon called mafia nanny which made me think of your yakuza suna and then that reminded me that you once worked as a nanny hehehe. And then I had to think of which yakuza + single dad!blorbo I’d take a bullet for…methinks daichi…who would you pick?

3. A FORGET ME NOT MARCO SEQUEL?!?!? Is it an after happy ending fluff fic or does it contain more angst? :’)))))))

4. I LOVE U!!! (the best and most important part has to come last) and I hope you’re having a wonderful, restful weekend!! How are you gonna indulge yourself?

Yours truly,

Nana <333

PS concerning the Shakespeare thought, I have little to no idea what sonnet 19 actually means…so pls no judging…I know you’re a Shakespeare girly so I’m being very brave and vulnerable right now…

HELLO BEAUTIFUL NANA i hope you had a lovely relaxing weeekendddd!!

WHAT A MESSAGE!! here are my follow ups <3

OMG NANA SHAKESPEARE ERA!! QUEEN OF LITERATURE!! i honestly was never super super into the sonnets and mostly studied the plays, but i am familiar w sonnet 19 and this vampire matsuhana comment made me go CRAZY. i've always rly liked sonnet 19 because of how violently the passing of time is described... "Devouring time" is also just like a delicious series of words... like yeah time IS devouring.... that guy mighta been onto something. (also i had to double check this info bc i was sure i made it up but i'm p ReTT y sure this sonnet in particular is believed to be written from a female perspective!! which i just love!!)

MAFIA NANNY SOUNDS LIKE SOMETHING I WOULD BE INTO MAYHAPS I WILL BE CHECKIN THAT ONE OUT!! also yes liv nanny arc was a very interesting season of my life heheh (choosing not to acknowledge the yakuza!suna reference for my own peace of mind xoxo) re: yakuza + single dad.... DAICHI IS AN ABSOLUTELY YUMMY THOUGHT. a few other men came to mind too.... kita.... geto.... dare i say wakatoshi??

YES I WAS SHOOK WHEN I FOUND THE NOTES!!! the sequel is set after the end of the manga when the corps (or what remains of them RIP) is returning back to paradis from marley.... there is also a huuuuuuge plot twist in that one but i dare not say more...

I LOVE U MOREEEEEEEEEEE!! i had a very relaxing weekend actually just kicking around the house!! i did do 5 loads of laundry though so i feel very accomplished <3 i hope you had a weekend full of treats n good sleep and nice weather where you are, sweet girl!! you deserve nothing less!!

SENDING U THE BIGGEST SQUISH AN EARTHLY BODY IS CAPABLE OF AND ALL MY LOVE FOREVER <3

ps - your shakespeare thought was wonderful and insightful and brilliant just like u