#but would it be worse to see a different vessel waiting for you?

[flecks-of-stardust]

would it be more or less of a gutwrench for nosk to have the appearance of a different vessel as opposed to the one you are

#many skins replace nosk's luring sprite with the player's base sprite #and some go the extra mile and redraw nosk's sprites as well #but would it be worse to see a different vessel waiting for you? #i knew about nosket before i got to it because i pretty much spoiled myself on everything godhome related #since i didn't think i could beat p5 anyway. of course i've proved myself wrong many times over on that #but still. seeing hornet waiting there for you and you go up to her and her neck Snaps #but that's hornet. you sort of know her already #so. entirely new vessel. someone you don't know but are aware is probably related to you #and you follow them to a cave and their head cracks and their body contorts #and you look around and there's more bodies #like following yourself is bad enough but ? is it worse to follow your sibling? #i'm thinking about looking into modding (at least for skins) once my finals are over #and i really want to use the greenpath skin #and i wondered about whether it'll still be greenpath vessel when i get to nosk #or if it's going to be ghost's body #anyway i'm just rambling #hollow knight

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

i want you

kinktober, day twenty-five

a/n: okay but why haven't i thought of pirate captain!miguel till now? shame on me honestly because that's way too delicious

summary: “no, please!” you bellowed, tears nearly forming in your eyes, “I have money! Just name the price! I will give you anything I have to get out of here!”

warnings: pirate captain!miguel o'hara x upper-class!reader, smut, historical au, sex as payment, stripping, kissing, slight knife kink, dirty talk

word count: 830

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

masterlist | join my taglist | kinktober 2023

“So, let me get this right,” the gruff man behind the desk glared up at you through his furrowed brows, “you want to bid passage on this vessel? You are aware of what kind of ship this is, aren’t you, miss?”

“I am,” you stood your ground.  

“You, a lady,” he gestured to your fine dress, “willingly want to sail upon a pirate ship?”

“I want to get out of this town on a ship that isn’t under my father’s employ, that’s what I want.”

“What, is your bed too soft and your suiters too dashing?” he chuckled. 

“Yeah,” you scoffed, averting your gaze, “something like that…”

Looking you over a moment, he then let out a heavy sigh and said, “miss, I’m gonna do you a favour and tell you to get the hell off my ship before someone comes looking for you, or worse, my crew does, and their manners aren’t what you’re accustomed to.”

“No, please!” you bellowed, tears nearly forming in your eyes, “I have money! Just name the price! I will give you anything I have to get out of here!”

Narrowing his eyes, “…anything?” his head tilted at the possibilities.

“Yes,” you nodded desperately, “would you rather have my jewellery?” your hands shot up to your necklace, “then it’s yours.”

“I don’t want your jewels,” your fingers halted around the dainty chain, “or your money for that sake.”

“No, wait, please, I don’t care where you are going, what port you drop me off at, I just have to get out of here-”

“If I help you, then I want something different.”

Gazing back at his leisurely seat in his chair, you asked breathily, “what?”

Staring what felt like directly into your soul, he then uttered, “I want you.”

Blinking back at him a moment, you then stammered, “e-excuse me, sir?”

“Christ, you really are a lady…” he chuckled briefly at your bashful reaction, “look, I presume you can retrace your steps and find your way off this boat yourself-”

“No, no, I’m sorry, please don’t, I’m sorry, I just-… you want me?”

Gazing back at you, he stated confidently, “yes.”

“What, do you want me on your crew? Because I don’t have any sailing experience-”

“No, I wanna fuck you,” a shiver ran down your spine at his crude words, “so, either take off that dress or see your way out.”

After letting your desperation sway your deliberation, you carefully began to undo the overwhelming row of tiny silk buttons down the front of your garment. Letting the top part fall to the floor, soon joined the poufy fabrics around your legs. But when you reached back to pull at the laces on your corset, the knot was too stubborn for you to manage in an effortless second. 

Though suddenly, as the Captain got up and conjured a short blade from his leather boot, your fingers froze and your eyes grew in alarm, “what are you-”

“Relax,” he walked around the desk to where you stood, “I’m not gonna hurt you,” then gestured as he said, “turn around,” which you promptly did, letting out a stifled gasp as he cut through the strings, the stiff stays swiftly joining the pile on the floor. Chest heaving beneath your thin chemise, you felt his broad palm glide over your waist, begging you to turn back around, “it’s been a very long time since I’ve been with someone who wasn’t a whore…” your eyes didn’t meet his intense gaze as his touch fluttered up to ghost across your cheek, “honestly, I don’t know if I ever have…” 

As your vision finally flickered up to catch his, his fingers curled to graze his harsh knuckles across your cheekbone, searching your eyes as he seized your waist with his other hand and pulled you in close to taste your lips.

His kiss wasn’t at all like you had expected. It wasn’t foul and unpleasant, no, his lips nearly caused your knees to buckle. 

“You’re so soft,” his deep voice warmed you from within as he held you near, “like you’ve never lived a fucking day in your life…”

“I’ve lived,” you tilted your chin, “just not like you have, sir.”

“Oh, have you now?” a genuine chuckle bubbled out of him, “have you ever done anything like this before?” he spun you around and began to back you up, “I thought rich girls like you were kept in the dark and waited till marriage… are you married? Is it your husband that you’re running from?”

Answering both of his questions with three simple words, you uttered, “I’m not married.”

“Well, I’m not gonna take you like some stuck-up lord you’d have ended up with,” a swift hand sent parchments flying before he scooped you up onto the desk, his sly fingers playing with the softness of your stockings as he pushed your shift up your thighs, “I know way too much about pleasure to treat you that terribly…” 

© 2023 thyme-in-a-bubble 

#lea’s writing #kinktober 2023 #pirate!miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara imagine #miguel o'hara fic #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o'hara fanfiction #oscar issac smut #miguel o’hara x reader #spiderman smut #spider man smut #marvel smut #spiderman x reader #spiderman 2099 smut #spiderman 2099 x reader #spider man 2099 smut

[jasmines-library]

Devil in Disguise

WHUMPTOBER DAY 29: Prompt ‘oxygen deprivation’

Fandom: Supernatural

Summary: After escaping from the cage, Lucifer decides to pay Sam a visit, only he's not there. So he settles on the next best thing: you.

Warnings: Choking, near death

Word count: 1.2k

MASTERLIST ⛤ WHUMPTOBER WORKS

🕸 ⋆ ⁶𖤐⁶ ࣪⋆🕸

No matter how many times you wished things would go your way, you never seemed to be that lucky. That was to say the least.

You were waiting antsily for your brothers to return, bouncing your leg restlessly and picking the thumb around your skin. They had only gone on a supply run; something they had done hundreds of times, but today something was different. You couldn’t shake the feeling that you were being followed. Every time you turned your back, you felt as though an invisible hand was trailing down your spine, but each time you turned to take a look, the feeling stopped. Perhaps it was to do with the face that Lucifer was back from the cage. 

It was an odd sensation. Seeing Lucifer possess your best friend. It was stranger to know what he was doing with his body too. The havoc and disruption he caused. You would have liked to have said that it got easier when he left Cas and returned to his first vessel, but then you were faced with the constant reminder of what he had done to Sam. You weren’t really sure which was worse. 

To try and take your mind off of things, you had settled down in the library with a book, A leather-bound copy of a handwritten journal that once belonged to a woman of letters. You had just settled into it when you heard it; a loud crash that thundered through the bunker. You had an unwanted visitor. 

Leaving the book on the armchair, you crept into the hallway, snagging a pistol that lay on the table on the way past. The good thing about the bunker was that it was crawling with weapons and you knew it like the back of your hand. But seemingly, so did the intruder. 

A cold hand wrapped its digits around your arm. You yelped as you were whipped around to face Lucifer. Tall and looming over you he grinned, flashing you his pearly teeth. 

“Hiya, Y/n?” He gave you a small wave. “ d’ya miss little old me?”

You shoved him off, holding the gun out in front of you even though you knew that your actions would be in vain. “Get away from me.”

You tried to run further into the bunker, but were stopped by an invisible force, keeping your body in place as though you were surrounded by a block of concrete. “What do you want from me?” 

He shrugged, trailing a slender finger along your jaw. “Can’t I pay a Winchester a visit?”

You gave him a firm look. 

“Okay. Fine.” He chewed the inside of his lip. “I got bored. All this hopping around… i'd got nothing to do. But now I’m back in good ol’ Nick. Well. I thought it would be nice to see some old friends. Maybe take Sammy on a little trip down memory lane. But it seems he’s not here right now. Isn’t that right?”

You didn’t respond. You just grimaced as he took your jaw in his grip and forced you to face him. You tried to squirm but were held still. 

“So, It looks like I'll just have to deal with the next best thing.”

You didn’t have a chance to react as he flung you against the wall, your head snacking against the blue tiles, helpless as you felt the invisible force squeeze you against the wall. 

“Let me go.” You demanded, desperately trying to pry your limbs away from the tile. 

Lucifer just pursed his lips. “Hm. I think this is much more interesting.”

“Sam and Dean’ll be back at any moment and then you’ll be a dead-”

Suddenly an invisible hand wrapped its way around your neck. “You talk too much.

You dropped to the floor, clawing at your neck as you tried to relieve some of the pressure that was crushing your windpipe like it was a can. You gasped and stuttered, trying to hungrily suck in air that refused to pass into your lungs. The agony that blossomed from them was unbearable; fiery and raw. 

Lucifer just smirked as he watched you struggle, tightening his mercilessly around your throat. 

Your chest constricted with fear. You had never imagined you would go down like this. For years you had believed you would go swinging. Never alone and without saying goodbye to your brothers. You flailed wildly as black spots swirled in your vision, and everything faded in and out.Your shoes slipped against the floor, struggling to find a grip on anything in your panic-filled reverie. That was until it stopped. 

Lucifer’s clutch on you vanished as your two brothers stormed into the bunker, noticing your absence. It was then that he heard the struggle coming from the halls. They had never moved faster than they did as they raced towards you, catching the devil off guard and after some struggle managed to restrain him with the cuffs. 

Sam was at your side in a second, squatting besides you. He placed his hands on your shoulder and forced you to look at him with your wide eyes. You were hyperventilating, breaths coming in short and desperate gasps. 

“Hey, Hey. Kiddo. Look at me.” You watched him carefully. Observing the way that his hair framed his face. “Follow my breathing.”

You took in a shaky, but deeper breath feeling the air rush into your lungs. You tried to follow your brother's breathing until yours settled into an even rhythm. 

“That’s it kid. You’re okay. We’re here.”

He wiped the stray tears that had fallen from your eyes and brough your head to his chest, tucking your head beneath his chin. You curled up tightly on his lap like you used to do when you were a small child afraid of the monsters that lurked under your bed. You leaned into his warmth, seeking solace in his cologne. 

“You’re okay kid.” He mumbled into your hair, threading your hair through his fingers. He eased you up into his arms and carried you off down the hall. When you dared peak over his shoulder, you noticed that Lucifer was nowhere to be seen. It was likely that Dean had forced him into the dungeon, but you clung closer to Sam just in case. 

He then eased open the heavy door with a creak and crossed the room in two large strides to lay you down on the comforter,Your head snapped up when he stepped away for a moment, panic clutching you tightly again.

You sniffled. “Sammy?”

“I’m here.” He said, returning moments later with Dean who had managed to slip in through the door at some point. 

He perched on the end of the bed. “Hey sweetheart.” He pulled you in close to his chest as his brother came round to sit on your other side. 

“You’re okay sweetheart.” Sam soothed. “He can’t get you anymore. No one is going to hurt you.”

You shuffled in closer to them, as exhaustion began to settle over your body. 

“Why don’t you try and get some rest, kiddo?”

You nodded hesitantly. “Stay with me? Please.”

Dean pressed a gentle kiss to the top of your head. “Of course sweetheart. We’re not going anywhere.”

🕸 ⋆ ⁶𖤐⁶ ࣪⋆🕸

<- DAY 28 ⛤ DAY 30 ->

taglist:

@senjoritanana

@deans-spinster-witch

@amaryllis23

#whumptober #whumptober2023 #whumptober 23 #no.29 #oxygen deprivation #supernatural x reader #supernatural x sister reader #choking #sam winchester x sister reader #sam winchester #sam winchester x reader #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x sister reader #lucifer #spn

[k-dokja]

synopsis: headache count: the amount of times gojo satoru opens his mouth to speak |

timeline: second year, 65-66 parallel

characters feature: geto suguru, gojo satoru.

relationship: classmates, friends. gojo is into the reader but not serious about it. geto is into the reader but not really doing anything about it.

notes: ooc as hell since i'm trying to narrow them down.

you weren't there for it, but you heard about it.

upon returning from your own solo mission, you are informed of the mistakes made by your fellow classmates. apparently, the three of them have all forgotten to put up the curtains while exterminating the cursed spirits, with satoru at the helm of the problem. vaguely, you had thought this would happen, with how often you are responsible for it when you're out with satoru.

to see it actually plays into reality, you only want to slap your forehead.

it was to be expected. he's arrogant and reckless. you can't deny his strength, but you can condemn his flaws. suguru might be the sweeter one of the two, but he's no better. if anything, you only have shoko to rely on with holding their brain cells together.

but apparently, that's too much to ask for.

although, for once, you aren't going to give them slack about it. you're tired enough from your mission, you don't need to add satoru to the list of problems you have to deal with. not that he ever likes to make anything easy.

with any luck, they'd be too ashamed of their mistake to talk about it by the time you return to class. but you know you'd never be that fortunate. in fact, you should've expected something worse to happen.

that way, when you're within the threshold of your classroom, your eyes wouldn't roll far back up your head when you hear satoru and suguru bickering. your irritation barely gives you time to react when shoko dashes out past you. briefly, you wonder if she even noticed your return with her haste to escape the fight.

you slide the door open with more force than necessary. as expected, that succeeds in breaking the tension between them by pulling their attention towards you.

"are you guys honestly fighting? is there a limit to your stupidity?"

ignoring the fact you straight-up called him stupid not a second earlier, "you're home!" satoru bounces towards you from his seat close to the door. reflexively, your hand raises to block his head before he can crash into you.

"i thought you wouldn't come back until tomorrow?" and ignoring your block, he continues to make grabby hands towards you.

"i finished early," you purposefully angle yourself away from satoru, but you know he isn't trying very hard. at least, not with the difference between his arm's length and yours.

"welcome back," suguru smiles pleasantly at you, the ire he has towards satoru the moment before dissipating. instead, it's replaced by the warmth of unspoken affection. "it's nice to have you with us again."

you smile back at him, "thanks, it's definitely better to be off-duty for a little while," you say, "can't say the same for the two of you, though."

suguru arches an eyebrow at your statement, but before he can ask anything, you step aside to let yaga-sensei enter. as your teacher takes the podium to settle them down, you take your seat next to satoru's. hearing him catching the boys up about their mission with the star vessel gives you a moment to take a breath.

idly, you think about your next mission. you only have a day or two to recharge before the next one requires you to be on the go. this schedule keeps you active and busy, but you can't deny you've missed working in a group a little.

as if sensing your thoughts, satoru speaks up, "wait, just the two of us?" he pulls you to him at the waist, grinning up at yaga-sensei, "can we bring her with us?"

you knock him on the head, "don't talk about me like i'm some pet poodle to carry around, i have my own mission to deal with," you grumble, "besides, it'd be an overkill to bring the three of us. i'm resource better spent elsewhere than babysitting the two of you."

yaga-sensei reaffirms your words, "she's right. all three of you are extraordinary at your age, but master tengen believes the two of you are enough. unless in case of emergency, you and geto will be the ones responsible for this mission."

you give satoru a sideway glance that basically says "see?" but he only pouts in answer. his foul mood is nothing but a charade and neither you nor suguru bothers to do anything about it. yet, satoru doesn’t relent his hold on you. exasperated, your eyes meet suguru's, he only smiles in sympathy but once again leaves you to fend for your device.

truly, you have no ally in this hell hole of a class.

#gojo satoru #geto suguru #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo satoru x reader #geto suguru x reader #fics

[billcyphersballsack]

Spoilers for the funny timeloop game

A big factor I think is fun to consider in the “a different party member is looping” AUs is why the characters keep it to themselves, and also how they’d behave at their tipping point, and most of all how they’d s specifically dehumanize the rest of the party by the end like how Siff starts calling them actors on a stage. If I may throw my two silver coins in the pool

Mirabell would experience major chosen one guilt. She’d see the loops as an opportunity to make the head house maiden (I’m gonna say HHM from here on out for her btw) proud for choosing her and also the rest of Dormont. She’d do everything to keep everyone safe of course, really starting the downward spiral after her first failure to defeat the king. But after meeting with HHM and having the loop corrupt I think she’d experience major religious guilt. She failed her house and she already thinks she’s following the change belief wrong because of her aroace status so I think she’d start assuming this was all a punishment for her sins that needed correcting. Her party members becoming nothing more then her entourage as she is the vessel of change, and at their worst they’re obstacles to her redemption. She doesn’t even wait for them to start talking shit about her at the clock tower before she decides to go it alone I think

A lot of Odile loops aus or maybe just the one I’ve seen have her as a diligent note taker. Real. I think she’d be unwilling to tell the party because I think she’s smart enough to figure out why the loops are happening immediately. But she refuses to believe that dumb wish she made on the tree she doesn’t believe in could actually do anything so she pushes that fear to the back of her mind and forgets about it till the end. She follows exact scripts and does everything perfectly for the first few loops but I think given the fact she’s the only one who attacks you in the finale fight she has it in her to start distancing herself form the party super quick. Even before meeting HHM she starts seeing the group as lab rats minus Bonnie to test out possible scenarios both to their benefit or to their detriment but after the meeting they become nothing more then Serial numbers, Bonnie included, and she couldn’t care less when it comes to their safety since she can just restart whenever she likes

Isa is tricky because he’s too sweet a guy I think but that’s what’s fun about it. I think he’d have a full blown identity crisis, I think lying to his friends and keeping secrets more intense then a little crush would eat at him, I think the fact his friends can’t remember all the things they’ve shared in the loops would make him feel hopeless over time, I think the fact they can’t remember when he was cold to them in later loops would get on his nerves. He’s a bundle of emotions and keeps the loops from the others just because he’s worried about them seeing him differently now that he has this ability, and after he meets the HHM he’s erratic and all over the place mentally. I’m taking a que from his backstory using body craft and saying his friends become shapeless formless husks over time that he can’t see as anything but failed clay sculptures. For an extra bit of sadness he finally confesses to siff in one of the loops before the last one and it’s big and perfectly choreographed but Sif gets overwhelmed and is himself worried how isa would feel if he knew more about Sif so they turn him down. And from then on he goes through the 5 stages of grief treating Sif worse and worse each loop because all of their good chemistry and funny banter is soured by the fact it will never happen. When the final fight ends he confesses it more like he’s telling Sif he’s got weeks to live, quiet and subdued and apologetic, and Sif accepts this time because it was genuine and they know a lot more about each other now

Bonnie tells Odile. Every time without fail. Sometimes they let Mira and Isa in on it, sometimes they insist it stay between them, sometimes they don’t tell the whole truth and pass it off as a prophetic dream or a hunch or something. But they always tell her. And they never tell Sif. Bonnie would obviously start getting stronger because of the loops and would eventually show off to Sif that they didn’t need his protection anymore, and that’s when the two can have their heart to heart and they’d trust him more. But after that loop fails Bonnie would become more and more agitated, aggressive, they’d snap at the others and become increasingly annoyed they treat them like a baby when they’re more powerful then all of them. It’s after the HHM that they stop telling Odile, they stop getting excited about snacks they stop chiming in with jokes and everyone assumes, naturally, that the kid is obviously stressed and they leave it be. On the last loop they absolutely lose it on the others and that’s when they all agree to leave them at the clocktower because this is too much for them. I wanna say the party becomes something like dolls to Bonnie, and that they feel as though they’re too old for dolls now

That’s it that’s the post

#isat #isat au #isat spoilers #in stars in time spoilers #in stats and time #long post

[danyvhell-writes]

Hi hi hi !! Idk if ur TS headcanons asks are still open (I am, so so sorry if not) but if they are I was wondering if you could do some Pirate Ais Au? >:3 I saw that idea in one of ur other posts and i think the idea is just MUAH MUAH

It could just be general Ais headcanons or X Mc :0 anything with him just being a pirate because bro I just love pirates so much 😭 they are SO COOL and Ais as a pirate captain is just ??? Even better ???

Anyway, I hope you have the best rlly good day 🫶

Pirate Ais AU 🏴‍☠️ Touchstarved

GN reader - no warnings | Yes my asks are still open !!! So happy you liked my idea :') OMG OMG OMG WHERE DO I EVEN START ?!!!!? The brainrot is real and fueling eachother with ideas like that is making it even better (or worse u choose uefgzifguz). As a kid who was obsessed with pirates and a current One Piece fan, your ask is exactly what I needed, thank you so much ♥ This AU is more joyful than what's seen of his canon life so yeah, hope you'll like it ! Okay, ready to sail ? Let's go !

• First : the ✨fashion✨. Ais could be at sea for weeks but would still make sure to look good, real good. I mean look at him ! He even has a pretty hat he wears on special occasions ✧.

• In this AU, Ais has his crew but is still affiliated to Ocudeus. Instead of being the spirit of the Seaspring, Ocudeus is literally the incarnation of the sea depths, a whole big Kraken ! Its energy, force and magic are linked to the abyss.

↑ Ais powers manifest differently here. Instead of seeing through the eyes of others, Ocudeus gave him some sort of marine omniscience. He can use the kraken's senses to a certain limit, a real advantage for navigation. Bro can literally listen through the sea itself if he wills enough :') He must have seen a lot...

• Ocudeus isn't the only spirit of his kind but is genuinely intrigued by mortals. It's not his first time forming a pact with 'lower beings' but Ais is actually one of his favourite holders/vessels so far lmaoezoihf. He kinda cares about the pirate, who's the closest thing he has to a friend.

• His ship is his second home, he takes absolute care of it. If his whole crew has to stay up all night to tidy & wash everything from top to bottom, they will ! And of course, the ship has a japanese name ! Ais named it "Hayai" [速] cause she's the fastest boat you'll ever see (his words not mine). First time you hear him talk about her you're like "...Wait who's Hayai ?" "This big girl over here >:)" and he shows you his amazing ship with a proud smile, which you really weren't expecting !

• Loves, loves, loves to travel ! Any new destination in his adventures is a reason to explore more, search for information and mysteries. He's just so curious about everything :')

• He picks up expressions, phrases and languages from his previous trips ! If he can remember as much as possible, he'll note everything in his log.

→ After every daily island/town tour, he makes sure to write a little about what happened so far. How much they traveled, how much they visited, how much they learned from passengers and citizens.

• Ais originally comes from a village on a small island, lots of yokais live in there as a community.

• He moves a lot but always comes back to his hometown when he can ! He's someone who gets attached and I just know he'd never abandon his little village.

• As a captain, his main role is to make sure everyone's fine. He checks up on his mates whenever he feels something might be wrong. He's got a sort of sixth sense for that... wonder how he got it hm 👀

→ Being the big softie he is, he actually really likes sleeping in the same room as his whole crew instead of his own cabin, he knows they're safe with him so he feels way less stressed. (Would 100% read bedtime stories to the youngest members.)

• His goal isn't even to find treasures or anything, he simply enjoys the freedom of being a pirate, the message behind it and especially the sailor fights !

• Knows how to sword fight and is pretty talented at it ! If you want to learn one or two tricks, he'll teach you >:)

• That man already had the smell of blood, smoke and metal well... in this AU it's even worse ! His smell is so distinctive and strong, anyone could recognize it from miles away.

• Our boy enjoys a good drink, we know that. Almost every night all his gang gather around and share some booze together in a comforting atmosphere, around a small fire. They enjoy the night together while chatting, playing games and much more !

→ Of course they also share tea in daytime when they're not busy navigating or whatsoever.

• Could also fit in general hcs but, his tattoos move or/and glow at specific moments. Sometimes it's like he's bioluminescent, when he goes in water at night, completely in the dark, his skin starts to glow under the moonlight. First time it happened he was so confused zegbkzuhf.

• After his pact with Ocudeus, he started to feel even more at peace when closer to the ocean. If he stays away from shores or marine areas for too long, little oni starts feeling homesick.

• He really appreciates collecting small objects from his travels. His room is full of souvenirs, strange artefacts found in the sand, small treasures, sea shells, cards from around the lands, old books in foreign languages, cultural jewelries offered by locals etc...

• Never really sets up a specific destination, except if he needs to. He loves the adrenaline of finding new places by complete hazard.

• Ais being a pirate who doesn't like seafood, the most accessible food at seas, is well... ironic.

• The sound of seagull chants and waves soothes him. He usually falls asleep on the deck, sunshine on his skin with the sea rocking him gently.

• First time you come to see him, it's one of his crewmate that tells you about him but you don't even know he's a captain ! You see him for the first time and you're just "Helloooo sailor ! How can I join your pirate gang handsome?"🥴

• Every single member is attractive. That's it. It's not the biggest crew really (around 20 people) but the diversity is here. Young ones, old ones, skinny ones, fat ones, pale skin, dark skin, humans, monsters, all the types really. And yes, some tried to woo you (how could they not, MC is 10/10).

• Kids on the ship view you as the cool unty (is that the gn term ?). Ais thinks it's cute except when you start spending more time with them when he originally invited you over…

• And yes, Princess & all his other soulless are here !!! Now they're more some sorta semi marine creatures. They really like to swim and it's the cutest thing :') Like, Ais and his pets swimming in the sea while some are playing in the sand ??? Too cute for me I-

• Talking about our favourite girl, she's the mascot of the crew ! Everyone is so in love with her, she's everyone's precious lil baby (even tho she can and will bite). They'll sometimes try to dress her up to fit their aesthetic and surprisingly she doesn't seem to mind. Also, the sounds she makes are…a mystery !

• Okay but just picture it : Ais hair flowing into the wind while he's watching the horizon, hues of the sea reflecting on his skin looking so peaceful.

• Thinking about his jolly roger, it would be a oni skull surrounded by red eyes with two teal sabers behind (I did a lil sketch hehe) :

• His favourite thing to find are old maps ! Especially if they lead to ancient locations with unchanged names. He has a lot of them and it also might be why he gets into a lot of fights (maps are a treasure themselves so of course people are gonna take risks).

• Even if he's young, he has a big reputation among other pirates. Rule number one : Don't mess with him or his crew. Number two : If you want information there's always a price to pay ! He's nice and generous but hey you know : don't except mercy.

→ Known for his loyalty tho ! If you show that you're worthy of his trust, he'll be your best ally for the rest of your life. He's intimidating but full of qualities.

#touchstarved game #ais #touchstarved ais #touchstarved #ais headcanons #ais x reader #kinda #gn reader #red spring studios #headcanons #touchstarved headcanons #pirate ais au #touchstarved au #answered asks #alternate universe #my aus

[liliallowed]

@asterclaw

that's mainly what I work with actually...

on different toxic levels. I personally see dust and player as queer platonic or like, idk. bad buddies. not really friends not really enemies, but they get it. a sense of understanding.

tw psychological manipulation

tw abusive relationships

behold the levels of worse I can make this ship:

level1: (frenemy dynamic):

they're frenemies. dust doesn't really LIKE them but appreciates their dedication to at least own up to their choices and face this regret instead of resetting. he also hates them for it because they're depriving him of seeing his brother again. both hate them and KIND of care.

they do change, but not in a way that feels disingenuous. they're still here to fight him. but not as an enemy. just as a playmate or rival. they don't need his mercy or forgiveness. just his company. redefining boundaries and the dynamic itself to just sparring.

you wanna get stronger to face me? fight for it! oh shit-are you ok? do you need healing items dude? hold on I'll get something.

but they never actually hurt him. baby steps. they do care. they just want to earn the chance. they'll wait for him to give them the chance. they don't want to force anything on him anymore.

level2(letting go):

realistically this would be one of the best actions to do in abusive relationships no matter how hard it is to rip the band-aid off or go against your attachment issues. they leave cuz they don't wanna hurt him.

but then that'll leave him all alone in the underground.

level 3 (feigning ignorance):

the angst levels jump on this one. the whole taking accountability thing kinda drops to zero here with the player self deleting the memory of their in world image, letting sans struggle with killing a person who doesn't remember anything they did. is that person even the same? our choices make up who we are but if one never made those choices or didn't remember would that even be the same?

or maybe a different vessel. a different account. a different identity. you're a petty liar =)

a cheap way out but it has a 60 percent chance of working. a tiny bit manipulative.

level 4 (twisted mind):

he's a fictional character why bother humoring his whims? you'll just alter his preferences and rebuild him from scratch. one that doesn't hate you. one that'd like you.

maybe live a double life? kill one and then cuddle with the other who remembers nothing. self indulgence can be nice when you don't treat the people as people and more like objects.

if it fails? try again. again and again till one attempt works.

this is where player would start becoming kinda irredeemable... and a manipulative control freak.

level 5 (oh shit):

this one's worse than all of them. you don't even bother making him like you back and just force everything you want. consent? he's a FICTIONAL character for god's sake, why even ask when you can just take what's yours?

he's just an object of entertainment to you.

this one might be actually triggering cuz some real people are just this disgusting too.

it's just different levels of apathy.

he's more likely to be more open to player the more genuine their actions are. if you wanna talk to him on HIS level? he might give you a shot. if not? you'll either accept that rejection or take it with a undeserved circumference.

#player x sans #dusttale sansanomoly #fanon dust on a meta sense would be level 3 btw #joking JOKING! i just take fics to seriously lol #but like if dust read fics of himself he'd probably feel weird #he's my bbg #slight unreality?

[burgundybmw]

Dark Horse

Masterlist

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Hopper!Reader

Word Count: 8,058

Warnings: Angst, Jealousy, Jason being a dick, I think that's it?

Summary: The Upside Down and all of its horrors are back in Hawkins. Y/N Harrington, née Hopper, can feel herself pushing Steve away. The thought of losing someone else she loves is too much for her to handle, especially with the little green monster on her shoulder. Will her and Steve's marriage survive? Or will that be taken away from her too?

Author’s Note: Okay I know I said this was going to be the last part, but there will be one more after this where they fight the final battle and Hopper comes back. I felt like that needed its own separate part. So stay tuned for that! Enjoy!

Part Two: 'Cause I'm Coming At You Like A...

Y/N hated Lovers Lake. It never had any good memories for her. The worst one was the time Sarah almost drowned, her little lungs barely gasping for air as she swam. Y/N remembered the feeling of her little sister clinging onto to her for dear life as she swam them both to shore. Hopper had gone to the car to grab another bottle of sunscreen, and their mother was shuffling through the cooler to prepare the picnic they packed for the afternoon. Neither of them had eyes on the girls. Y/N kicked her legs with every ounce of strength she had to get her sister to safety. By the time they reached the shore their mother had ran out to them, screaming, for Hopper to get back. It was the most terrifying two minutes of Y/N's life at the time. Sarah didn't need CPR, Y/N had kept her head out of the water. They were both strong swimmers, which was why it was so bizarre that Sarah freaked out in the water. No one in the family knew it was the early stages of cancer rearing its ugly head. The following summer Sarah was gone, and Y/N vowed to never swim inside Lover's Lake again. That vow was broken the moment Steve set foot inside the boat.

It was a tight squeeze. Eddie, Steve, Robin, Nancy, and Y/N inside the small vessel. The further they got away from shore the more Y/N had wished she had stayed behind. Sitting in between her husband and his ex girlfriend was certainly not how she wanted to spend her evening, especially navigating the waters of the cursed lake. It was dark, murky, a black wall in between them and whatever horrors lurked below.

When the compass began to spin out, Y/N knew they had found what they were looking for. She previously hoped that when they managed to find the gate they would all just turn back around, full knowing the likelihood of that was slim to none. All because Steve, her senselessly brave Steve, volunteered to jump inside the depths of Lover's Lake. The moment he stripped off his shirt she tried to stop him, begged him to stay in the boat with her, but they all knew it couldn't be done. He was the best swimmer in the boat, their only shot of securing intel on the gate. So she let him go, dive into waters below, all with barely contained nerves and vicious jealousy. She saw the way Nancy looked at him when he took off his sweater. The crystal clear signs of interest. Y/N knew it wasn't fair to feel that way, Steve got looks all the time and it didn't bother her. This time it felt different. This time she felt threatened. With each passing moment the feeling got worse, all while patiently waiting for Steve to come back.

The moment he finally breached the water instant relief flooded her veins. Y/N threw herself to the edge of the boat, reaching to grab both of Steve's arms, anchor himself to her.

"I found it!"

"You did?" Y/N asked, her hands firmly grasped around his wrists.

"Yeah, I found it"

"Dustin, you goddamn Einstein. Steve found the gate!" Robin shouted into the walkie talkie.

"What did you see?" Nancy asked as she scooted closer to Y/N's side. In the moment Y/N didn't care about the line of questioning, she just wanted Steve back in the boat, back to safety. The sense of dread never fully left her, call it gut instinct or paranoia, but it all seemed too easy. Nothing was easy in Hawkins.

"It's pretty wild. It's more of a snack-sized gate than the mama gate, but still, it's pretty damn big" Steve replied. Y/N was about to tell him to hurry his ass up and get inside the boat before she felt a pull. Steve almost slipped back in the water, but her grip on his forearms kept him steady. Just barely.

"What the hell was that?"

"I'm not sure, it felt like-" whatever it was tried to pull Steve under again, but Y/N held on. The pull was stronger, something was hooked onto him. Something from the gate.

"Grab onto me! Something's got him!" Y/N's body was half over the boat, desperate to keep Steve above water. She could feel multiple pairs of arms wrap around her, all of them struggling to pull her back into the boat.

"Y/N let go! The boat's gonna tip over!" Steve yelled, water splashing across his face.

"Then let it flip! I'm not letting go!" Y/N meant every word. Whatever it was, it wasn't going to get Steve. She refused to let another monster take away someone she loved. She'd rather die.

The boat was rocking back in forth, lake water seeping into it with each turn. It was only a matter of time before it capsized, before they were all thrown into the lake. Y/N could feel her ribs get crushed against the wooden board, but she didn't care. She held on to Steve with everything she had in her, just like she did with Sarah those many years before.

"Let go!" Steve's face was only centimeters above water, barely clinging onto the surface. At this rate he would drown. She would lose him. He'd be gone forever, just like everyone else in her life. Y/N pulled harder.

"No!" Y/N could feel him start to slip from her grasp, he had unwrapped his fingers from her arm, left them loose against her skin. With one more tug, Steve slipped himself out of her grasp. In a split second he was pulled under the depths, and a split second later Y/N dove in to follow him.

Whatever it was that grabbed Steve was fast, pulled him deep into the depths of Lover's Lake faster than she could swim to catch him. She kicked legs as quickly as she could, desperate to keep him within her line of sight. The distance grew further and further apart, inches, a foot, a yard, before all she could see was the faint red glow from the gate.

Her lungs were burning in her chest, she didn't take a full breath before she followed Steve under. Y/N persevered, ignored her lungs screaming for air, ignored the radiating pain from her rib cage. All of it was white noise. All she could think about was getting to Steve, bringing him to safety, holding him in her arms again. It's what got her through it. The sheer panic of swimming in Lover's Lake again. The past didn't matter in that moment, she just had to make to the gate. Once she finally pushed herself through, it was clear the nightmare wasn't over. The worst had just begun.

The fight was a blur. Y/N remembered shrieks, the fluttering of wings, seeing Steve covered with blood and a tail wrapped around his throat. She remembered throwing herself at him, tearing the the creature feasting on his stomach away from him. Smashing it against the cold, unforgiving ground of the Upside Down until it was no longer living. She remembers Eddie, Robin, and Nancy joining the fight at some point, Steve biting off a chunk of the bat with his teeth. There was blood, so much blood around him. Y/N didn't know if it was his or the bats, neither of those options gave her comfort.

Then they were running away, Steve's hand in hers sprinting towards the trees outside of the empty crater that was supposed to be Lover's Lake. She remembered the pain, how quickly it came back once they found shelter. With every breath she took the pain got worse. The second they hit cover she collapsed to the ground, a ringing in her ears that nearly drowned out Steve's frantic voice.

"Y/N?! What's wrong? What happened? Where does it hurt? Come on you gotta talk to me, please answer me"

Y/N tried, she really did, but every time she opened her mouth to speak the pain was almost unbearable.

"It's her ribs. Lay her down, we have to make sure she didn't break any of them" Nancy answered for her. Y/N could only nod, the smallest of movements to tell her she was right.

"It's gonna be okay sweet girl, I've got ya. You're gonna be fine" Steve said as he gently laid her head against his lap. "How do we check to see she didn't break anything?"

"You have to lift up her shirt and press on her ribs, if it moves under your touch it's broken"

Steve gently raised the bottom of Y/N's shirt and pressed down on her chest. The pain shot down her spine, a whimper escaped her throat before she could seal her mouth shut. It didn't matter if her ribs were broken, it was all pointless. They had to get out, had to find a way to escape the Upside Down. They were wasting time.

"Shh, shh, it's gonna be okay. I promise Y/N" Steve soothed as he investigated the damage. "Nothing seems broken, but I'm not sure"

"You have to be sure Steve. If it's broken the rib could puncture her lung" Nancy reprimanded.

"I'm fine, I'll walk it off" Y/N finally spoke, ignoring the soreness in her chest.

"No way. Not until we're sure" it took everything within Y/N not to protest. She knew he was right, that Nancy was right. A broken rib could kill her if she didn't fix it in time.

"Let me check" Eddie crouched down beside her, leaving a safe distance between him and the couple.

"So what, you're a doctor now Munson? I'm not gonna let you cop a feel on my wife if that's your angle. Over my dead body"

"Steve" Y/N scolded, although her heart wasn't entirely in it.

"Don't worry Mr. Harrington, not trying to make a move on the Mrs. I've cracked a rib once or twice before, I know what I'm looking for"

"Doing what?" Steve asked, his tone losing its hostile nature from before.

"Well one time I busted my ass climbing out of a window, cracked two ribs there. Not fun, don't recommended at all. And another time I-"

"As much as I would love to hear the life story of Edward Munson I'd like to know if I'm gonna pierce my lung or not"

Eddie pressed gently on Y/N's ribs under Steve's watchful eye. The pain was still there, but it was more bearable than earlier. Y/N didn't know if it was because she was getting used to it, or if it was a sign of something worse. The last thing she wanted was to be a burden. Deep down she knew that if it came down to it, she'd make them leave her behind. Vecna was still out there. They couldn't afford to lose all of the adults in the group. Jonathan and Joyce were still in California, Hopper was dead, and none of them had any idea where Murray could be. Hawkins, if not the world, would be doomed if the kids were left alone to their own devices. Y/N made peace with it in that moment. Maybe the fates were on her side, maybe she'd see her dad and sister again. Y/N couldn't find herself feeling any regret. If she could do it over again, she'd still hold on to Steve with everything she had. She'd never let him go.

"Well Mrs. Harrington, good news. Nothing is broken. Might be a few cracks and you'll have one killer bruise, but you'll be fine" Eddie stood up and brushed the dirt from his pants, a cheeky grin plastered on his face "Dr. Munson M.D. prescribes little to no intense physical activity for at least a week. Hear that Mr. Harrington? Gonna get real close and personal with that right hand, man"

"Oh ha ha, very funny" Steve grumbled. He tried to help Y/N stand to her feet, but his own buckled the moment he moved.

"Shit" Y/N looked down to see the bite marks on his stomach were still bleeding, the flesh red and angry where it was torn.

"Christ Steve! Why didn't you tell me it was this bad?!" Y/N twisted her body to kneel in front of Steve, biting down the hiss of pain as she moved.

"You were hurt"

He said it so simply, as if it was the only thing that mattered. Steve didn't care that he was a monster's chew toy only minutes before, the only thing that was on his mind was her. That Y/N was hurt, he needed to help her. She tried to ignore the butterflies in her stomach, the rapid flutter in her heart. So intense she swore it would break in half. If her number one fear was losing anymore people she loved, the second was loving Steve too much. So much that it would swallow her whole. It was tragic how they both go hand in hand, love and loss. Would she survive it? When Steve eventually moved on from their fictitious marriage? When he realized she wasn't the one for him? Would it be better to walk away now? Or wait until the black hole of his absence swallowed her galaxy whole? Y/N didn't know. Didn't want to know. What she did know was that she needed to fix Steve up before he bled to death.

Y/N slipped off the sleeves of Steve's windbreaker and gently removed her shirt, the old black sports bra she wore the only grace of modesty she possessed. Ignoring her husband's protests, Y/N tore the cotton into ribbons. They weren't the most sanitary of bandages, but they would have to do. Robin was rambling about rabies, and Y/N would be a liar if she said she didn't consider the possibility of him getting something from the bites. It wasn't time to think about what if's, it was time to focus. She tried to remember what her dad taught her. Wrap the bandages tight, but not too tight to run risk of cutting off circulation. A bit of give, nothing more than a finger's width in size. Clean wounds with soap and water, or alcohol in a pinch. They didn't have access to any of that. Y/N prayed that no infection would spread before she could properly clean the wound, or worse.

"There, all done" Y/N tied the cotton in a small knot, tucking the excess underneath the rest of the bandage. She looked up to see Steve staring down at her, his knees bracketing her shoulders from where he weakly stood. He looked beautiful, painfully beautiful. Even covered in blood and muck, nothing could dampen how much Steve shined. It wasn't even close to how Y/N imagined it would be when she got down on her knees for him, but she couldn't deny the view from below was still nice.

"Gonna kiss it better sweet girl?" Steve panted. Y/N knew it was from the pain, but it didn't stop her thoughts from traveling elsewhere, thoughts that wouldn't be appropriate in the present company if they knew.

"You're ridiculous" Y/N said, but placed a chaste kiss to his stomach anyway. Steve held her hand, carefully pulled her up from her spot on the ground.

"You know you love me" she knew it was in jest, but the butterflies in her stomach refused to get the memo.

"I-"

"As much as I adore this public display of affection, I think we should probably figure out how the hell to get out of here?" Steve and Y/N whipped their heads to look at Eddie, he was still standing only a mere foot away from them. She had almost forgotten they weren't alone, that they were on the run from killer bats and a psychic monster man.

The group moved outside of the cover from the Upside Down's version of Skull Rock. Nancy had one arm wrapped around Steve, much to Y/N's displeasure, and tried to help him walk out. Eddie offered to help Y/N, but she was too stubborn to accept it. She knew it was ridiculous, Nancy was only being helpful, but pain and exhaustion was enough of a motivator to be a bit foolish. Y/N walked up to Steve and Nancy and wrapped her arm around him, taking the other side.

"Don't worry Nance, I got him" Y/N said, her voice dripping with false sincerity. Nancy nodded and let go of Steve, following Eddie and Robin to the clearing outside of Skull Rock.

"So, uh," Eddie began as he stood up on one of the other rocks, trying to get a better view of their surroundings, "this place is like Hawkins, but with monsters and nasty shit?"

"Pretty much" Y/N replied, resting Steve against the rock. Eddie tried to take a step forward, make his way down the rock before Nancy stopped him.

"Wait, watch out for the vines. It's all a hive mind"

"It's all a what?"

"All the creepy crawlies around here, dude. They're like, one or something. You step on a vine, you step on a bat, you step on Vecna" Steve supplied, checking on his bandages.

"Shit" Eddie carefully made his way down the rock, avoiding all the vines that covered the space.

"But everything from our world still here, right? Except people?" Robin asked. Y/N was surprised how well they were both handling everything. This wasn't her first rodeo, not by a long shot, same for Nancy and Steve. Robin might have had a taste last summer, but this was all new to Eddie.

"As far as I understand it, yea" Nancy replied.

"So, theoretically, we could go to the police station and steal guns and grenades and whatever we need to blow up those bat things that are guarding the gate" Y/N couldn't help but chuckle, she couldn't imagine the Hawkins police shelling out for grenades, not with their budget.

"The Hawkins P.D. doesn't have grenades... right Y/N?" Steve asked, his voice less annoyed from when he addressed Robin.

"They certainly don't have grenades, but they do have guns. Lots of them"

"Well, we don't have to go all the way downtown for guns. I have guns in my bedroom" Y/N wouldn't be surprised if Nancy eventually invested in a whole armory. The girl had a decent shot.

"You, Nancy Wheeler, have guns, plural, in your bedroom?" Eddie asked, full of disbelief.

"Full of surprises, isn't she?" Robin chirped. Y/N turned to look at her, even under the low light of the Upside Down she noticed a faint blush on her cheeks. Interesting.

"A Russian Makarov and a revolver"

"Yeah, you almost shot me with that one" Steve chuckled as he dragged himself off the rock. Y/N was about to step forward to help him, but the next thing that came out of Nancy's mouth halted her in her tracks.

"You almost deserved it" she said with a teasing smile. Y/N watched as Steve looked at Nancy, a fond look of nostalgia on his face. It took everything in her not to crumble. Anyone with eyes could see a tension there, and the pain in her chest wasn't from a few cracked ribs. Y/N turned and walked away, she had enough of the display. As she walked she could hear Eddie's voice, saying something about modesty, but she didn't care.

There was a new mission in her head now, get to the Wheeler house, get the guns, get the fuck out of the Upside Down. All whilst pretending her heart isn't about to break. Y/N tried to ignore the rapid questions in her mind, how Steve can act like the perfect husband one moment and be practically flirt with his ex the next. Was she seeing things that weren't there? Was it all an act? Was she just a place holder until Nancy came back? Should she nip this whole marriage in the bud before she fell too deep? That last one was impossible, Y/N knew she was already too far gone. Another phase was added to her mission then, get the nerve to tell Steve that when the battle with Vecna was done, they should call the divorce lawyer.

Like Richard Bach said, if you love somebody, set them free.

What a dick.

The little green monster was building permanent lodgings on Y/N's shoulder. Climbing into the RV did a number on her ribs, so when she found herself finally inside she was hesitant to move from the back seat. It was a choice she regretted, because Nancy sat in the passenger seat besides Steve. He checked on her, made sure she was okay, but in the end he was the only one who could drive the damn thing.

It wasn't Nancy's proximity that bothered Y/N, what made her heart slowly tear itself to shreds. No, it was the fact that Steve had told her his dreams for the future. The same story he told her the night they got married. The six little nuggets traveling across the country. Y/N could picture it now. Steve and Nancy with their perfect little angels in the back seats, miles of open road in front of them, laughing and smiling with each other. A picture perfect family. Steve the house husband, Nancy the power house bread winner, the American dream. It made her sick.

When Steve pulled into the War Zone, Y/N didn't hesitate to jump out of the RV. He tried to get her attention, but she ignored him. She hadn't said a word to him since they all left other Wheeler house. It was childish, giving Steve the cold shoulder. Especially since she promised she would talk to him when she was upset, but how could she expect her to do that when the reason for it was standing three feet away from her? Y/N didn't want to delude herself thinking Nancy and Steve didn't have feelings for each other anymore. She assumed Nancy had broke it off with Jonathan before everything went down, he was supposed to be in Hawkins for spring break. Yet, he was still in California with her sister, Mike, and the rest of the Byers family. Nancy knew the marriage wasn't real, that her and Steve weren't actually together. Hooking up a few times does not make a marriage. He was fair game. Knowing that didn't make the pain hurt any less.

Y/N chose to put all of her focus on the task at hand. Grab weapons, make a plan to stop Vecna, smite the bastard, and move on with her life. She repeated it over and over again in her head. There was no room for distractions, no room for girlish heartbreak. Their lives were on the line. It was because of this she didn't notice someone had walked next to her at the counter, a certain blonde pain in her ass.

"Hopper, surprised to see you here instead of the station" Jason said with false sincerity.

"Not as much of a surprise it is to see you. Why are you looking at guns Jason?" Y/N was in no mood to play nice with Jason Carver. He was gunning for Eddie and the kids, in her mind that made him public enemy #2.

"Scary times, don't know when you might need to protect yourself" Jason began as he watched Y/N pay for the gun in her hands. "That's a pretty big one, sure you can handle it?"

"It's a Glock 19, the barrel is only 4 inches long. If you think that's big I feel sorry for all your future girlfriends" Y/N couldn't deny the sick satisfaction she felt when she saw Jason's pleasant facade melt off his face, how it quickly morphed into anger. Did the guy just lose his girlfriend? Yea. Did Y/N care? Not really. Her father died, her sister died, her mother left her, her husband probably will too. Y/N didn't care about Jason Carver's feelings, not when the gun he had in his hands was meant for people she cared about, people she loved.

"Listen Hopper-"

"No, you listen Carver. I know what you're planning on doing with that thing in your hands. If you know what's good for you you'll put it down and walk away. It's not a fucking toy" Y/N took a step towards him, her eyes filled with righteous fury, "so help me God Jason if you plan on using that gun I will not hesitate to bring the entire Hawkins Police Department down on your ass. I will come for you, I will come for your friends, your family, and I will come for this ridiculous establishment too. I will ruin your life. So stop with this vigilante bullshit and go the fuck home"

She took one more step forward, satisfied when the boy in front of her flinched with the movement. "And it's Harrington, Mrs. Harrington asshole"

Jason's sardonic laugh felt like nails on a chalk board. His eyes had no light in them, and the sick smile on his face was far more sinister than what he wanted people to believe. Y/N saw right through him.

"Oh that's rich, Mrs. Harrington" Jason's words dripped with venom, "you made a mockery of the sanctity of marriage with that drunk fiasco. You think word didn't spread about what really happened?" Y/N was too slow to react, didn't have enough time to back away when Jason whipped his hand out to grab her elbow, pulling her closer to him. His grip sent shockwaves of pain down her side, it would surely leave bruises.

"Honestly, why would I listen to little orphan Annie? So desperate for company you settled with being second fiddle to Nancy Wheeler. It's pathetic"

Y/N could feel the tears gather in her eyes, but she refused to give Jason the satisfaction of seeing them. She knew if she opened her mouth to interrupt his vicious monologue she'd break out into sobs. So she kept her mouth shut, willing herself to calm down. Then she would stop him, but each word that left his mouth felt like another knife was plunged into the space between her cracked ribs, into her broken heart.

"Boy she did a number on him, anyone with eyes could see it. That was true love right there, not whatever bullshit this is. You know that's what everyone thinks, right?" Bullshit. Jason said they were bullshit. People thought their marriage was bullshit. Just. Bullshit.

"No one else wanted you, so you picked the guy who already lost the best thing he could ever get. I could see Wheeler turning the biggest man whore in Hawkins into husband material, but you? Don't make me laugh"

Y/N had enough. It was one thing to say that garbage about her, Carver wasn't far off the mark, but Steve? It didn't matter if their marriage was bullshit, it didn't matter that he didn't love her like she loved him. Steve was the love of her life, and no one was gonna get away with saying that shit about him. Not behind his back, and especially not to her face. No shot in Hell.

Y/N flipped her wrist and slammed it into Jason's elbow. He dropped the grip on her for a split second, just enough time to grab his wrist and pin it behind him. Y/N reached for Jason's neck and slammed it on the counter, the same move her father did when he arrested the more unruly citizens. He struggled under her grip, but there was no use. Jason was completely immobilized, exactly how she wanted him.

"Now you listen here, and you listen good. You're gonna shut your trap about shit you know nothing about. If I hear you say any of that garbage again, you'll be praying that all of your bullshit about demons and Satan coming for the people of Hawkins were true, because they will have far more mercy than I will when I come after you" Y/N pressed Jason skull harder against the glass, just enough to hurt before letting him go.

"Keep my husband's name out of your god damn mouth" Jason didn't hesitate to leave after she was done, running as fast as he could away from her. Y/N grabbed her bag, gun and ammo secured inside, fully prepared to walk back to the RV. Yet, when she turned around to go she found herself frozen in her spot. Standing only six feet away from her was Steve, Nancy, and Robin, equally as frozen as her.

"How much of that did you hear?" Y/N asked, all the fire inside of her immediately vanquished.

"Um, everything after little orphan Annie?" Robin murmured. Which was great, honestly. A part of her wished that Vecna would just take the reins, float her up to the ceiling and spare her the pitied looks she was sure to receive from those three.

"Alright then" Y/N didn't want to hear it, whatever poor attempt of consolation they would dish out. Jason's an asshole Y/N, don't listen to him or just ignore him, it's not worth it. She knew that, she didn't need anyone else to tell her. Y/N tried to walk away, but Steve stopped her.

"Alright then? That's all you have to say?" she refused to look at him, too proud or too scared to see the truth in Steve's eyes.

"There's nothing left to say. Let's go" Y/N tried to remove herself from him. Steve refused to let go. His touch far more gentle than Jason's, but still firm with his intent to keep her still.

"Like Hell there's not-"

"Steve, she's right. We have to go. Jason and his posse are here, we don't have the time to mess around" Nancy reasoned. She could tell by her voice that Nancy was shaken by what Jason had said, why she was Y/N didn't know. Didn't really care to know.

"This conversation isn't over" Steve said as he let go of her arm. Y/N remained silent as she made her way to the exist of the War Zone, Erica and Max quickly following behind the rest of the group. Steve got behind the wheel of the RV, but Nancy didn't take her previous spot in the passenger seat. Y/N didn't fill it. She walked right past it and returned to her spot in the back. Robin decided to take the spot, and they all drove away to from the bustling parking lot.

Eddie gave up his seat behind Steve to Nancy, and joined Y/N on the back bench. He didn't say anything at first, but she knew he was itching to speak. It was only when she heard Nancy give directions to a spot they could regroup that Y/N decided to speak up.

"Yes, Eddie?" He was fiddling with the zipper on his jacket, a clear sign of nerves.

"Listen, tell me to shut up whenever 'cause it's none of my business, but..." Eddie began, "There's obvious something's up with you. I might not be the most wise person in this vehicle, but I've got two ears that still work. If you wanna talk, I can listen"

Eddie was the only person in the whole world that truly knew who Y/N's heart belonged to. She spilled her guts out to him right after Christmas, too high and too sad to keep her filter going. Back then he told her to confess her feelings to Steve. They were already married, what's the worst thing that could happen? He said she was a total catch, that Steve was an idiot if he didn't feel the same. She wished she had Eddie's faith, his confidence. It would have made things so much easier, but she didn't. Y/N was a coward when it came to her heart, it had been bruised enough before. There was safety with secrecy, with keeping her emotions locked up tight. No one could hurt her if they didn't know. At least, that's what she told herself.

"I ran into Jason in the War Zone" Y/N could hear the quick inhale Eddie took beside her, his eyes wide with shock as she spoke, "He basically said I'll never be as good as Nancy, that I'm pathetic for even thinking I was even in the same league as her. Said that my marriage is bullshit and everyone in Hawkins thinks so..."

Eddie didn't speak, he was patiently waiting for her to continue. He knew she had more to say, and Y/N knew he wouldn't utter a word until everything was said. It was as annoying as it was comforting.

"Did you hear what Steve said earlier? About his dreams of the future?" Y/N asked, voice barely above a whisper.

"Yea? What about it?"

"It's the same story he said the day we got married. The same vision I imagined I would be a part of one day, but he said it to her" Y/N paused, willing herself not to cry, "I mean, shit, maybe Jason's right. It's not like I haven't thought the same thing. That I'll never compare to Nancy, that she's his future. Lord knows I've had enough fucking nightmares about it... I just feel pathetic getting so worked up over this. If only my dad could see how low his daughter has fallen..."

"Now that's bullshit" Eddie asserted, "you and I both know Chief Hopper would be super fucking proud of you"

"Eddie-"

"No let me finish" Eddie placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, his eyes warm with soft determination, "yes Steve and Nancy have a past, there's no denying that. She'll always be his first love, but that doesn't mean you aren't his last. That's the more important one"

"But Steve-"

"I'm gonna stop you right there. I don't know what it's gonna take to get it through your thick skull, but Harrington is ass over tit for you. He always calls you his wife, or Mrs. Harrington, and sweet girl. No guy would do that if there wasn't any love there. Unless they were a total sociopath, but Steve's not the type. He's way too sappy for that shit" It sounded so easy when Eddie said it, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Her head agreed with every word her said, but her heart wouldn't let her believe it.

"Then why hasn't he said he loves me? It's been eight months Eddie, wouldn't he have done by now if he felt that way?"

"You haven't said it"

"That's different..." she didn't know how to tell him that it was. Y/N knew it would all sound like excuses, and they all probably were. It didn't matter though, it's what she felt.

"Bullshit it's different. Who's to say boy wonder over there hasn't said the same shit to Buckley or Henderson that you're saying to me? Maybe he's just as chickenshit as you are"

"Steve is the bravest person I know. There's no way he'd be too scared to talk to me"

"Oh, but that is with battles against foes, my dear friend. This is a battle of the heart. A battle he had previously lost before, scorned by the woman you so irrationally fear will always have a claim to it" Y/N couldn't help but laugh a bit, Eddie always had a way of making everything theatrical. She stopped when she noticed the cheesy grin on his face slip into something more earnest.

"In all seriousness Y/N... Nancy is a great girl, she's just not great for Steve. Not like you are. I saw your face back in the Upside Down, I saw how you shut down when she said that shit to Steve. I truly and honestly believe she didn't mean anything by it, not how you think she meant it. Even if she did, it doesn't matter. Steve doesn't love her like that, it's so obvious a blind man could see it"

"You really think so?" Y/N allowed herself to hope. She knew Eddie would never lie to her, not with something like this. The guy was painfully observant. He noticed things most people ignored, noticed people who were ignored. If he genuinely believed Steve loved her back, then maybe Y/N could finally accept it as the truth. When she truly thought about it, Steve had changed over the past eight months. He was more affectionate with her, touched her more, vulnerable with her. Yes he was like that before they got married, but it wasn't to the same extent. It all suddenly clicked for her.

"I'm willing to bet my B.C. Rich on it" Eddie said with a grin.

"Thank you Eddie, really. You have no idea how much this means to me" there was a new phase in her plan, a revision of sorts. When everything Vecna was all said in done, she was going to tell Steve she loved him. That she wanted to stay married, start a family, do everything they said that drunken summer night in Vegas. She wanted to be with him, and she wanted him to know.

"Anytime Mrs. Harrington" Eddie briefly wrapped his arms around the her, a quick squeeze before he let go again. "But just so you know, I totally claim your first born. He shall be known as Edward Harrington, first of his name, in my honor"

"What if it's a girl?" Y/N chuckled, full knowing Steve would never go for it.

"Edwardette?"

"That's just awful and you know it" she was pretty sure that wasn't even a real name. Edwina sure, but not Edwardette. Poor child would get crucified in school with a name like that.

"We've got time to storyboard names later" Eddie grinned.

"We're here, everybody out" Steve barked from the front seat. Y/N shared a knowing smile with the man beside her before she got up to leave. Even though they were all preparing for battle, a fight that they could all very well lose, Y/N couldn't help but feel a massive weight lift off her chest. Perhaps luck was on her side after all.

Or perhaps she spoke too soon. As soon she left the RV, she could feel Steve's icy stare on the back of her head. Y/N wanted to help him and Robin with the molotov cocktails, but when she offered Steve told her they had it covered. His voice was cold, lacking all the warmth he usually had when he spoke to her. At first she chalked it up to pre-battle nerves. Yet, as she worked with Nancy on sawing of the shotgun barrel, Y/N noticed the glare Steve was giving Eddie from his spot in front of the RV. It was so quick, how Steve went from hot to cold with him. They were getting along fine in the Upside Down, but now he was looking at Eddie like he slashed the tires on his BMW.

Fifteen minutes of target practice was all she could handle, she needed to know what was wrong with him. As she walked towards the RV, she could see Robin shoving Steve's shoulder to get his attention. When they made eye contact, it almost halted her step completely. He looked defeated, as if he had zero fight within him. It was the same look he had the night she found him on Halloween, the night Nancy broke up with him. Something was wrong, terribly, horribly, wrong.

"Can we talk?" Y/N asked, her voice as calm as she could make it.

"Oh now you want to talk? Done giving me the silent treatment then, Y/N?" That was fair. She had been ignoring him, he had every right to be upset.

"Please Stevie, it's important" the nickname always calmed him down. He often told her how much he liked it when she called him that.

"Fine" Steve sighed as walked inside the Winnebago. Apparently it wouldn't work this time. Y/N glanced at Robin, who all but refused to make eye contact with her. Yes, something was definitely wrong. She quietly followed behind Steve, closing the metal door shut behind her. He was sitting in the same spot she occupied earlier, his face staring at the window instead of her. She desperately wanted to be close to him, wrap her arms around him and tell him everything was going to be okay. Deep down she knew it wasn't the right time, he needed some space. Y/N sat down next to him, a safe distance apart. It wasn't the right move.

"What do you want Y/N?" his voice wasn't cruel, or bitter, not a touch of anger. It was empty. No emotion at all. Y/N couldn't help but feel that was worse.

"What's wrong Stevie? I know something upset you, please talk to me"

"Surprised you even want to, seems you talked enough with Munson back here" a bitter laugh escaped Steve's throat, a sound she never wanted to hear again, not directed to her.

"Eddie? What does he have to do with anything?" Y/N didn't understand his problem. Eddie was her friend, although she wasn't as close to him as Steve was with Robin, it wasn't any different. It was platonic, with a capital P.

"I just find it funny how one second you're chewing Jason out for calling our marriage bullshit, then the next you're sitting pretty in another man's arms. I know I wasn't the best in school, but I know that math doesn't add up"

Y/N was gobsmacked. She could feel the old Hopper temper rise within her, threatening to bust open at the seams. How Steve could sit there and pout because Eddie consoled her, while he could do whatever the fuck it was he was doing with Nancy was completely beyond her.

"Are you insinuating I have a thing for Eddie?!"

"I'm not insinuating that you don't" Steve bit out.

"Oh, that's real nice Steve. If you want to talk about things for other people, why don't we discuss you flirting with Nancy right in front of me!" Y/N tried to keep her voice down, the walls of the Winnebago were thin, but there was only so much she could do. The walls were crumbling down, everything she hid away forcing itself to the forefront.

"What are you talking about? I wasn't flirting with Nancy" Each brick turned to ash at her feet with every word Steve spoke. It was only a matter of time before she unleashed it all.

"That shit at skull rock? You're gonna look me in the eye and tell me that wasn't flirting?!"

"It wasn't like that-" Steve tried to finish, but she wouldn't let him.

"It sure as hell looked that way to me!" Y/N yelled without a single care if anyone else could hear her, "first it was all that shit with the library, then it was all that tension in the Upside Down, and then you tell her about your plans to the future, how many kids you want to have, as if she's the woman you want that with!"

"No, of course not?! What?!"

"You heard me! How could you do that Steve, how could you say that to her?" the tears were falling down her face, Y/N couldn't stop them if she tried. "You said that to me on our fucking wedding night Steve! Did it mean nothing to you?! Is our entire marriage bu-"

"Bullshit?" Steve asked, his voice filled with hurt. Y/N finally stopped to look at him, really look at him. His eyes were wet, tear marks dripping down his face, jaw tight with fear. He looked broken. It nearly broke Y/N too.

"No Stevie, never. I would never think anything with you was bullshit. I don't care if everyone else does, I won't"

"Then what. Finish the sentence"

Y/N took a deep breath, it wasn't the time for fighting. Not with Steve. "Is our entire marriage built on a fantasy I made in my head..."

"What..." If Y/N didn't have her entire focus on Steve, she would have never have heard the whisper that escaped his lips. It was barely audible, as if he didn't mean to say it. He just let it out.

"I'm terrified Stevie. So fucking scared all the time and you have no idea" Y/N gathered every ounce of courage she had. It was now or never, time to let everything out on the table. She couldn't afford to wait until after the battle, it had to be done now. "I'm afraid that I'm just a place holder for Nancy, that she is who you're meant to be with. Everything that Jason said, it keeps me up at night that he's right. It kills me inside to think that you will never love me the way I love you"

The walls had crumbled down around her. It left Y/N feeling naked, vulnerable. She always kept things locked away, ever since her mom left. It was better to push away, to not let people close so they couldn't hurt her again, but Y/N was tired. Tired of keeping the walls up, laying down more bricks to protect herself. She didn't want to shut Steve out, she wanted to let him in.

"And I know I shouldn't be this way, that you're not mine to keep. That if Nancy wants you I couldn't fault her for that, because who wouldn't? You're amazing Steve, my favorite person in the whole world. You're everything a girl could ever dream of; brave, strong, loyal, kind, beautiful. So fucking beautiful, inside and out. You shine so bright and I'm afraid that I don't belong in your light. The best day of my life was becoming your wife, and even if it hurts knowing you wouldn't have done it if you were sober, I will never regret becoming Mrs. Harrington"

Everything was quiet after she finished, the only thing Y/N could hear was the pounding of her heart inside her chest. It felt like hours of silence, all consuming dreadful silence, before Steve finally broke it. He started laughing, and the black hole was growing faster inside her.

"Holy shit, Henderson was right. I'm never gonna live it down when he hears about this"

"You're being mean Steve. I thought you grew out of mocking girls for their feelings..."

Steve immediately stopped laughing, his eyes wide with horror. He reached out to hold both sides of her face, leaning into her center of gravity.

"Oh, Y/N, no. It's not what you think sweet girl," Steve began, gently resting his forehead against hers, "Dustin was right that you didn't hear me that night. This whole time I thought you did, but I was wrong"

"Hear what?" Y/N whispered, soft and slow.

"When I told you I loved you, only you. I said it day one sweet girl, and I haven't stopped loving you since"

It wasn't the first kiss she shared with Steve, but it felt like one. First kisses can be tentative, unsure. They can also be filled with heat, breathing each other in as if they were the only source of oxygen left on the planet, fierce and desperate. The best ones were like this. Steve kissed her like he had all the time in the world, savoring every moment they were connected. Y/N could taste the salt from their shared tears, sure they were the last to be shed for a time. Inside that beat up Winnebago was pure serenity. That's what felt like to kiss Steve, safety, peace. All of the worries, fears of the Upside down and all its creatures were washed clean.

Y/N didn't know how she ever considered waiting until the battle lines were drawn and finished. How she could ever risk facing Vecna without telling Steve she loved him, without hearing he loved her too. It seemed foolish in hindsight, and Dustin wasn't the only one who wouldn't let them live it down. Eddie was sure to boast about how he was right all along. Y/N knew she'd let him, as long as Steve was by her side to take the heat with her.

Maybe Richard Bach wasn't so much of a dick after all. If you love somebody, set them free. If they return, they were always yours. Y/N may have fallen hard for Steve, but he fell for her first.

Tag list:

@cevans-winchester , @lalalalemonade11 , @esoltis280 , @celestialsxturn , @thatredlipped-classic , @musicmoviestv , @panagiasikelia , @lou-la-lou , @hcloangcls , @johnricharddeacy , @crying-caro , @mn2222222 ,  @preciousbabypeter , @sushihousebread , @cottagecori , @yvonneeeee

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x hopper!reader #steve harrington x female reader #steve harrington #stranger things steve harrington #steve harrington angst #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fic #stranger things #stranger things s4 #stranger things season 4 #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanficton #stranger things fic #stranger things angst #stranger things fluff #stranger things x reader

[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

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.

#sleep token fanfiction #sleep token #vessel sleep token #ii sleep token #polyvessels #sleep token fic #sleep token iii #poly sleep token #fanfic #sleep token sleep

[mists-reading-nook]

(For your fun event - let's take a page out of Bennet's book and Let's Light It Up! Your choice as to AU. You've done an amazing job so far with all the different asks, Mist. I can't wait to see what else you'll write.)

A small, well worn notebook is left out on a desk, with pages upon pages of writings on each Genshin character, their relationships to each other, their backstories and secrets. Things ordinary Teyvat citizens and even other characters don't know about them. In addition, there's notes about Celestia, Allogenes, The Great Archon War, and the truth behind Hilichurls.

On the last page of the book are the words,

"This world is not real."

Ansjekoww you're so sweet <3 I honestly love writing this type of stuff,and this ask gave me an idea!!

Slight mix of both "creator" and game au,Ft Kaeya.

****

The first to find it was Kaeya. He didn't know how he had gotten here,or why he was here,but he was alone in an empty room with only a desk. A desk with a strange book sitting on it's surface. He had opened the book,not really knowing what to expect.

Whatever he had expected,it for sure wasn't this.

At first,what he had read made him spiral. This world isn't real? He isn't real? He began to wonder what was truly real and what was not. Was this really the truth? If this world isn't real,than what is?

It had taken him a long time to understand the strange book. Soon after he had been controlled by a strange entity. They had puppeted him around,using him for various tasks. At first he hated the entity. Dispised it even. He hated the way they had taken away his free will,hated being controlled. He hated how he couldn't even talk to the other "vessels",because they didn't seem to remember being controlled. After a while however,as more joined him in awareness,his hatred began to fade into apathy. While others worshipped you,he simply ignored you. A part of him still hated you. Still loathed having to be hyper-aware of when you would control him again. Now,though,he preferred to pretend he had no idea of what this world truly was.

Oh he hated you. But he couldn't show it. Because you were his only chance at escape. You were his ticket out,and he'll be damned if he let's this opportunity slip away. Kaeya was going to leave this false world,one way or another.

****

Yeah Kaeya isn't very fond of you,but maybe that's for the best...

Cus the other vessels of yours are MUCH worse...

#genshin impact sagau #genshin sagau #sagau #genshin cult au #sagau genshin #sagau cult au #♡mist answer's<3♡ #this is a combination of both game sagau and creator sagau #game sagau #creator sagau #slight yandere #except Kaeya hates you #and only wants you to escape #cant say the same about the other characters tho.... #kaeya reader body swap au #THE OG!!

[kitsunefaux]

Hey!! Anon cause I'm shy, but I'm a big fan of your writing! Ive left some guest kudos on your fics and am always waiting patiently for the next update! I was wondering if you had any recommendations for fics since you seem like the type to have good taste... I'd love to read more stuff that reminds me of your work!

Hey! Thank you! I definitely do have some recommendations I’d like to share. These are in no particular order.

Ryou-centric (and/or tendershipping)

Corruption by firetrap

After seeing the pharaoh off to the underworld, Ryou comes home to find that his own spirit hadn’t left like he thought.

The Last Puzzle by tenderwulf

11 years after the Ceremonial Duel, Atem and Bakura inexplicably find themselves back in Domino. When they meet their previous hosts, they realize how much things have changed: Yuugi, the now world-renowned King of Games, is going through a marriage crisis, Ryou is struggling to balance studies, work, and his brittle mental health, and Malik... well, Malik is living his best life—and his own yami is nowhere to be seen.

They soon realize they all have to work together in order to solve the mystery of the yamis' return: some to make sure that they stay, and some to make sure that they don't.

Haunted by Ehtar

Ever since receiving a strange artifact from his father, Ryou Bakura’s life has changed. He gains the friends he’s always wanted, and the bullies are disappearing. At night, though, he dreams of the life of a thief in ancient Egypt. A young boy who was the sole survivor of his village’s slaughter, who must turn to thievery and worse in order to survive on his own.

Ryou knows that something is wrong when his friends begin to fall to the same malady as the bullies, that something is wrong with him. It’s not until he makes some new friends in Domino City, including a boy who has an artifact similar to his own, that he realizes he harbors the soul of that thief within himself – that he’s been possessed for years by the spirit of a killer.

He should rid himself of the evil spirit, save himself and those around him. The only trouble is, now he doesn’t know where one of their souls begins and the other ends. After so long, he’s not even sure he would reject the spirit if he could. After all, no one knows him so well as the spirit that haunts him.

Cornered by YadonushiRyou

Life is different for Private Investigator Ryou after a too close encounter with a maniacal killer. Ryou has to deal with physical and mental scars, navigating through life only to find that he can’t forget Bakura as easily as he would have liked. His partner Malik tries to help him along the way, but things between them are much different than they used to be, causing tension in their close relationship. Meanwhile, time is running out when it seems the killer on the loose has already chosen his next victim.

An Unwhole Half by SheIsHoldingACat

The problem with being one half of a whole is that the other half has to agree. The problem comes when the other half wants it all to itself.

Or:,

Ryou wishes he had the bond with his spirit that Yugi has. He wishes it was possible.

Philosophy of a Knife by crushedmary

Absolute power corrupts absolutely. Ryou learns this the hard way when he becomes the vessel for Zorc's power.

A canon rewrite where Bakura wins.

Other Yugioh

Gratitude by Resuri

Amir is an assassin. His job is easy. Someone give him a target, he kills them, and he gets paid for it. Not to mention he is really good at it. However, never could he had imagined his job would have him to be acknowledged by the most beautiful and horrific creature he ever saw.

But, hey, Ryou just wants to thank him for the meals!

Our Scars remind Us that the Past was Real by Sesshy380

Imagine waking up, and everyone is trying to convince you that the things you 'remember’ never happened, and that those 'memories’ exist only in YOUR head. The Thief King doesn’t have to imagine…because that’s exactly what happened.

-or-

The Thief King get’s a second chance at life.

Martyrs by SheIsHoldingACat

the history of the shadow games extends three-thousand years, to Ancient Egypt...

~

A rewrite of the events of Memory World, with emphasis on moral greyness, political intrigue, and the premise that Thief King Bakura was entirely justified

These are a few of the fics I really like. Thank you for your ask!

@resuri-art @worldendercharles @tenderwulf @crush3dmary @sesshy380 @millenniumringg

#ao3 fanfic #fic rec

[thephantomcasebook]

You talk a lot about the HOTD actors misbehaving on set but especially focus on Oliva, Emma, Phia, Paddy and Rhys. Do you know how Fabien, Ewan, Tom and Matt behaved on set? I'm curious to know about the inside and stuff of the show.

It also strikes me as weird for Rhys to be cast in such a role because everyone always says everything in him is funny so I would thought they would have looked for a more settled character (I ended up liking him as Otto though, but I thought it was a bit weird)

Usually when I talk about the actors that are the exception, I talk about Frankle, Mitchel, and Glynn-Carney.

I'm not saying they didn't fuck around on set, but I've never heard anyone say a bad thing about them. They all seemed to have taken the job and their characters seriously. Yeah, I'm sure they goofed around on set - who doesn't when everything is hurry up and wait - but the point is that they seemed to care, and when it was go time, they were professional and really into their job.

I'll always point out the difference between Ewan Mitchell and Tom Glynn-Carney vs. Olivia Cooke and Emma D'arcy.

In the 1x09 documentary, Mitchell and Glynne-Carney had an entire segment where they got deep into their characters and so embodied them that they made up little brotherly chorography of biting and tickling one another to show a closeness.

However, when Olivia Cooke and Emma D'arcy are interviewed they talk more about the social and political commentary of their characters as vessels of the message, or they simply make things up that have no baring on the character - like Alicent being secretly a Lesbian or Rhaenyra being "Gender-Fluid".

Mitchell and Glynn-Carney took two characters, deep dived into who they were, and built upon that to make them real people. Cooke and D'arcy took two characters and tried to fundamentally change them to fit what they wanted to play for their own mercenary ambitions.

Now you tell me who are the real actors and who are the narcissists?

I've also never heard a bad thing said of Matt Smith. I'm not gonna lie, after the stuff that Lily James accused him of, I will always be suspicious of him - though I'll admit that I'm always bias toward Lily James. But from what I've heard, Matt Smith tried to take a leadership role in production and bring order when it seemed that Sapochnik wouldn't. He also cared, and made suggestion and took point when things could've been a lot worse to make them better. I don't think anyone could claim that Matt Smith isn't a very talented actor. And when you watch the behind the scenes stuff, you can clearly see him taking charge in a good way and actively caring about the project when it seemed that a lot of people around him didn't.

Rhys Ifans is a really funny mutha'fucker and he is a really talented actor - I love him as Curt Connors and as Nigel in "The Replacements'. However, you need to have someone to balance that energy out. And that's the problem with a lot of producers and projects today. Everyone idolizes comedians, cause, every asshole these days thinks they're so witty and fucking funny. So they jump at the chance to have comedic actors in their projects. But they're a utility, not your main stay. You have to have someone that is funny but also knows when to pick their spots and takes things seriously.

On "Game of Thrones" both Peter Dinkledge and Conleth Hill were comedic actors, but they were also classically trained enough to respect the gravity of the world they're playing in. They played subtle comedy and didn't over sell it. The problem is that Sapochnik wanted that same thing that he got in "Game of Thrones" but he didn't respect the professionalism and maturity that came with Dingledge and Hill. He just thought any old comedic actor would do, he just wanted funny men that he liked. Thus, when Ifans and Paddy showed up, they did what they do best ... but there was no one else to off-set their energy. Therefore their bad habits dominated the set and encouraged bad behavior from the younger actors.

I don't blame Ifans and Paddy, like I said, they're gonna do what they do. I blame Sapochnik for his childish finger painting understanding of how leadership in a production works. He seemed to think that years of continuity, chemistry, and talent from "Game of Thrones" could be replicated by him, because, he was the genius behind it all.

Now, HOTD is suffering because they didn't put any respect on the name of the production and crew of "Game of Thrones" that made it so effortless that a bunch of mids and mediocre talent thought they could just replicate it without any trouble.

#House of the Dragon #Game of Thrones #tom glynn carney #Ewan Mitchell #Olivia Cooke #Emma D'arcy #Matt Smith #Rhys Ifans #Paddy Considine #peter dinklage #Conleth Hill

[repurpose-yourself]

The Unwanted Gift - Fitting the Outcast

Things had taken a turn for the worse. For a year I had been watching over a pawn shop I had been sold to, waiting high up on a shelf and even praying for a guy to buy me. I wanted purpose. I wanted to be saved from this pathetic existence.

I have come to terms with who I am, merely a vessel for size 14 feet. I know without a man's feet, I am useless. I have also made peace with the fact this whole situation was my fault, misplacing trust in a man who gladly took my money.

Never expecting to see this cash master again, after he offloaded me to this pawn shop a year ago, I was surprised to see him wall through the door. He had another pair of kicks, ones I am sure were living. The same excuse was given - they were the wrong color. He said the same of me.

I gave him everything. He ignored my plight and managed to make money off me one more time because I disappointed him.

Fucked up, really. But giving up my humanity left me at his mercy. And now, at the mercy of the pawn shop owner. With a new pair of size 14 kicks, I was removed from the display and thrown in the back. I guess spending a year not being sold wasn't good for business.

Again, fucked up. But the owner didn't know better. As far as he was concerned, I was nothing more than a pair of shoes. He didn't know I was living.

What worried me was I knew what might happen now that my worth had been doubted. Often, clothing that didn't sell met their end in the trash or were simply burned. Both options made me shutter... at least if I could shutter, I would have.

When all hope was lost, the pawn shop owner walked into the back room and picked me up. I thought it was time. Rather, he brought me to the front counter and dropped me before a large man.

"If you like them, they're 10 bucks even. I just need them gone," the pawn shop owner said.

The hulking man looked down at my two shoe bodies and smiled, "These are so unique. If they fit, I'll take them."

Was this my lifeline? I hoped it was. This man wasn't a looker by any means. If anything, he reminded me of... well, me. An outcast. Someone who didn't fit in. A man who didn't belong.

To a degree, it was like looking in a mirror. I couldn't be handsome like the cash master that destroyed my life. But as a pair of shoes, I could become beautiful. Though, beauty is in the eye of the beholder. That fucker didn't like me but maybe this man would be different.

His large hand hooked the heels of my existence, effortlessly lifting me into the air. I hung by his hip as he walked over to a chair. Upon sitting down, he gently placed me on the floor next to his big feet.

The hightops on both sides of me had seen better days. Scuffs and scratches covered nearly every surface. A masculine smell escaped from inside. These things had been through hell.

The large man kicked both shoes off, unleashing the full extent of his smell, "I hope you last at least five years like these. My daily kicks need to be retired."

Without ceremony, I watched his right foot jam itself into my body. It forced me to conform to his desires, which I happily agreed to, even if it hurt a bit. The sweaty black socked foot locked itself inside me, the wide appendage pushing my sides out. The flat sole hammered the slight arch my insole had.

Then came the left foot.

With the manly rank feet inside me, my laces were tied up and soon he was standing. The weight of the world had rested upon me. It was the first time supporting a man. Agony best describes what I was feeling. His body demanded obedience and I would offer it no matter the cost.

His toes wiggled inside me before he rocked back and forth. A few jarring stomps elicited a satisfied grunt. He walked up to the counter and pulled out a 10 dollar bill, then dropped it on the surface.

"I found my new shoes," he said, nodding at the owner and turning away.

My treads squealed against the floor, torqued painfully in the process. At times I screamed internally but he would never know and his feet certainly didn't care. He strolled up to his old shoes and picked them up. Once outside, he tossed them in the trash and proceeded towards his beat up truck.

That old pair of shoes served its purpose. And now that need shifted to me. Every fiber of my being would be necessary to accommodate this large man. But I couldn't be happier.

Finally, I had my purpose once again...

#inanimate object #inanimate tf #inanimate transformation #consensual tf #shoe tf

[akampana]

11. Emiya x Artoria

11. "Don't make me say it. I can't say the words. Pairing: Emiya x Artoria Tags: angst

“Em...Emiya?”

That name–that damned name–he swore it would always haunt him, even if he’d long cast it aside. It would always be there. Staining his father’s grave. Carved upon his Spirit Origin. Smeared all over her beautiful lips. He hated it. 

“You…Your True Name…it’s Emiya?”

He could practically taste the anguish in her words when she said them, each syllable feeling like a sword to his chest. Archer didn’t dare look her in the eye. The last thing he needed to see was whatever emotion she held there. 

Somebody tried to stop him as he made for the exit. Somebody else tried to talk him into staying. But he was out the door before Arturia could call him by “name” again. Cú–that damn bastard and his slippery tongue. Archer should have known better than to drink with that idiot. He knew his mouth tended to run when alcohol was involved. He was careless. He shouldn’t have– 

“Wait. Please.”

 A hitch in his step. A stumble. But Archer continued his headway through Chaldea’s halls with a rushed pace. No. No. Hell no. He wasn’t dealing with this. 

He felt Arturia's fingers circle his wrist. It had been so long since he had touched her. Many a lonely night, he'd longed for that same touch, trying and failing to find its comfort between every summon. Many of those nights, he realized all he'd ever known was sweat against the grip of his twin swords and blood on the tips of his arrows. She was a dream; a single, impossible dream. She had no place in his life of infinite nightmares.

"Shirou—"

A few eons ago he would be on his knees, but now, his spirit didn't even stir. She might have as well called another name and it wouldn’t have made a difference. If anything, it was anger that moved him as he turned to face her. After years and years of trying to outrun his demons she’d dragged him right back into their damned den. 

"That's not who I am, Saber."

Arturia felt the floor slide from under her, smooth tile replaced by stone and gravel that cut at her heels. All of a sudden, the fluorescent lights were a brown sky of cinders and smoke and when she breathed all she tasted was ash. She blinked and swords were at her neck. Eyes devoid of all life and color stared her down. She felt like she was looking straight into a black hole, helpless as it tore her apart inch by inch. She couldn’t move, couldn’t speak, couldn’t breathe. How could she, stifled by how glaringly empty the white haired vessel in front of her was?

The dull, metallic sound of gears turning filled the stale air between the two Servants. Unnoticed, a single tear slipped from her cheek, joining all those that had been spilled on the grounds of his nightmarish reality marble. She knew he was right. She need only look around for her proof. This place, this hill—if she squinted she could believe she was bleeding out on the fields of Camlann, her voice hoarse from grieving for her failures. If Shirou had taken the same path that she did, it was entirely possible for the man he became to end up here. 

Fresh salt welled up under her irises as she wept for the stranger before her. The hearth she once loved was but an empty fireplace now; the fire that once warmed her soul replaced by white ash. Maybe the other kings were right. She was a fool; a dreaming little girl clawing for delusions she could never achieve. 

As her tears fell, a bitter smile graced her face. "If you could just tell me, one last time, that it was real…that you loved—"

"I won’t. I can’t." Archer cut her off, pain shooting through his system like swords erupting from his flesh. A long, sharp ringing in his ear resounded as he looked down on the girl that changed his life several centuries ago. Her words haunted him like an echo, cyclically repeating till they left scars in the deepest recesses of his mind. Worse were her sea green eyes. He used to drink them up, but now he felt like he was drowning.

"Don't make me say it,” he grunted, lips quivering with every syllable, “I can't say the words."

Arturia’s tears ran dry before either of them said anything. Soon the orange sky had faded back into the white lights of the Chaldea halls. The knight swiped the back of her hand against her face. When he met her stare again, it had gone cold as ice, as if she’d discarded their warmth together with her tears. He realized at once she’d done what had taken him years to do: bury her feelings so far down there was no way she could ever reach them again. 

“My sincerest apologies for my earlier outburst,” she said stiffly, adopting a tone he hadn’t heard since they first met in that dark storage house. “Thank you for your answer. But…you are right. I should not have reminded you of your past when you’ve already cast it away.”

Why did it feel like his insides were being ripped out?  

Arturia dusted herself off, wearing that irritating soulless expression she liked to use with her knights. She gave him a soft, distant smile. “I hope you can forgive me…Archer.”

Part of him died that instant, the part that steadfastly hoped for the light at the end of the dark path, the reward he’d reap for all the suffering he endured, the warm welcome to paradise. He wondered if it was worth it to continue on his journey at all. She wouldn’t be waiting for him at the end. Not anymore.

#rcdp #arturia pendragon #emiya #archer #saber #angst #fgo

[morimakesfanart]

Dead End 01 -SP Ch04

This is am early draft of ch04 from Sindria's Prophet. 

It is very different from the final version

*Angst

*CW-suicide attempt mentioned

I hadn't slept well. I knew what was coming so I couldn't stay in bed. I ate a quick breakfast, and went to check on Aladdin. Sure enough, Alibaba had already left to start the coup. I waited to give him more time before I'd go see Sinbad. I had decided to not change things, but I couldn't stop myself from wanting to help somehow.

I knocked on the door. Ja'far opened it after Sinbad agreed to let me in.

I got straight to the point. "As soon as your allies get here, you need to head to the palace with them." I could see the nerves growing on his face as Sinbad figured out the implications of my words. "Alibaba has stormed the palace. He will defeat the man that turned into the elephant monster the other night while Morgiana holds off the everyone else. Once in the throne room, Alibaba will win over all of the guards there, and the coup with be successful. However, the Kou Princess will appear, and Alibaba will need your support." I hesitated for a moment. "Do not take the stage from him. Alibaba won't give an inch to the Princess."

The current picked up.

For a few moments they both just watched me. Sinbad regained composure. "Is there anything else you're willing to tell me?"

News of Alibaba's actions would reach us soon. I looked back at the door. "Before Aladdin wakes up, his condition will get worse for a bit. Oh, and..." I fully faced my exit. "You'll want to bring medics with you to the palace. You will be getting your metal vessels back later today." I started towards the door. If I wouldn't prevent things than maybe I could help save some of those affected.

"Mori." Sinbad sounded serious yet soft.

I stopped.

"Thank you for the warnings."

It didn't take long to start hearing tells of Alibaba's battle to the throne room and growing support outside the palace. More people hurried there to see the change happening in their country.

A dark laugh escaped me. "You won't want to thank me when today is over." I opened the door. "Just know that I'm sorry."

---

A part of me wanted to watch everything in person, but I knew I'd only get in the way. I could feel it in the flow.

Fear clenched my muscles into knots.

I went to my room and moved some furniture in front of my door. I didn't want to worry about someone taking advantage of the commotion when the fighting really starts -like in the manga.

Sinbad would be rushing to the palace soon if he hadn't already. I knew he'd be questioning Alibaba's reasoning as he went, and probably questioning mine as well. 'Was this really something he shouldn't prevent? So much so that I wouldn't tell him about all of this in advanced? He could have prevented this!' At least I imagined he'd have such thoughts as he rushed to fix the situation with diplomacy.

I saw a bright light shine from a tower in the city. No doubt Ugo was summoning Aladdin and Judar's Rukh -at least trying to. After the light died down the people quieted, but only for a bit. I hoped that the negotiations were going as well as they did in the original. And hopefully, Sinbad would still be impressed by Alibaba's decision, and actions.

More and more people flocked to the palace to hear of the outcome. There was no way to stop human curiosity, and of course, the results here would affect the rest of their lives.

The current felt stronger. I couldn't deny that these were the same waves that Sinbad felt.

And then I saw that dreaded procession.

The fog troop was coming with Cassim at it's helm. There was so much black Rukh that I could see them. I knew if I had warned Sinbad, then potentially Banker and the other dark magicians could have been prevented from helping. And maybe some of the casualties could be prevented. But if I was unable to prevent Sinbad from rewriting the Rukh with his own will...

I covered the window.

In stories, characters are always forced to watch when someone risks their life, or people die due to their decisions. The stories seemed to say it was the more honorable or noble thing to do. But I wasn't about to traumatize myself more than I already was for the sake of noble aesthetics. I only had about five years left to try to change the ending -less if I wanted to prevent it completely- and I'd need to limit my traumatic experiences if I was going to have a chance of achieving any of it.

The black Rukh were filling the city, some had even entered the room. There was so much that even regular people could see them.

One of the black Rukh landed on me. Tears started streaming down my face and sharp pain cut through my stomach. Back home I was the type that couldn't enter certain types of haunted locations because I could feel the pain of the ghosts trapped there. Hospitals were some of the worst. Some ghosts would attach themselves to me to leave their spot and I would be stuck with them until I could convince them to move on.

(CW)

Was my Rukh black? That would explain why they were circling me. When I was a young teen, I had nearly succeeded in taking my own life. I was better enough to count now, but maybe it had made my Rukh black. Of course, if my Rukh was black it was probably because I didn't pass through the Sacred Palace when I was Isekaied, but I wasn't thinking about that.

"I'm so sorry you died that way." I sobbed. "You don't deserve this."

Spirit Magic might be the only known way to directly affect Rukh type but I wanted to try something. "If you want you can try passing through me. Since I'm still alive maybe I can help."

The Ruhk vanished. I couldn't tell if it entered me or if I just couldn't see it any more.

More Black Rukh landed on me and repeated the process. I hoped whatever I was doing was helping them. At least, I could convince myself I was doing something useful.

I could hear the screams, crashing, and destruction from my room. Should I go and try to help the wounded even though I'd be risking my life? Was I actually thinking about the future or was I just a coward who avoided making a decision?

A sound pierced through me to my bones. I couldn't see the source, but I knew in my heart that it was the sound of Cassim merging with the dark Djinn.

I moved the furniture not blocking the door in front of the window to try to muffle the sound. It worked a little, but it blocked the remaining light from getting in my room more than the sound.

It was clear that the amount of black Rukh I was engaging with wasn't enough to change fate, but I hoped it was doing something. How could I have actually allowed this to happen? Sure the future was important, but why did I have so little faith in myself to change it?

Why did the the shift in the flow have to remind me that I didn't have plot armor?

How much would I cry before the day was over? What about after? Was there any normal person who could sympathize with someone who knowingly let others die like this? Was this similar to how the singularities felt?

David became self righteous because of his knowledge of the path of fate. Now that I was here, would the same happen to me? If I had a power of my own maybe I could have helped. If only I had been stronger. Maybe I should have told Sinba -

**C r A c K**

The distinctive sounds of thunder and lightning boomed through the space. Sinbad had gotten his metal vessels back. It was almost a shame I didn't get to see his Djinn Equip in person, but I didn't deserve such a gift after what I'd done.

If everything was following the script, that meant Cassim was dead, and the battle was over.

The room was quiet and no new Rukh appeared. I unbarricaded my door but didn't bother with revealing the window.

All this because Alibaba needed to absorb Cassim's Rukh, Judar needed to receive that "gift" from Aladdin, and Aladdin needed to get Solomon's Wisdom. Was it worth it?

The flow of the Rukh change with the battle over. I could finally help. I grabbed as much supplies as I thought I could carry and started making rounds.

The city was a mess. Crying filled the air. Many were still in shock and mourning their dead in the streets. There were still some injured unattended. I could help those people.

My body had been screaming in pain from the stress and fear all day, but that pain was gone. Even the pain from the Ruhk that landed on me was just a memory. Fear and stress were meaningless during times like this; my mind cleared as I got to work.

I was tying on a splint for someone when Aladdin called the Rukh to descend to their loved ones. The morale raised for many.

I kept working. There was no one in the great flow to visit me anyway.

A few others started helping me treat the wounded.

I had only been bandaging people for about an hour when I felt the current beginning to pick up again. And this time it was moving towards me. It wasn't just moving towards my location, whatever was causing the shift in the flow was aiming for me specifically.

I opened the door on my own before they even had a chance to knock. I couldn't look up to make eye contact out of guilt.

As soon as I finished helping the person I was working on, I excused myself from the rest of the medics, and bolted for my room. I had a promise to keep after all.

---

The whole day I had heard footsteps running back and forth, but somehow I could tell that the current set of steps were heading towards me. The pit of my stomach and bones felt icy. There was no point in trying to run away or hide when that man was the one chasing you.

Sinbad clasped both of my shoulders. "You knew about the dark Djinn!!" I was forced backwards and he staggered into the room with me. The current came rushing in with him.

I hadn't had time to light candles, and had left my window blocked earlier, so the only source of light was coming from the door behind him. His face was cast in shadow, but I could still make out the rage and betrayal on his face when I stumbled backwards.

I caught the vague sound of Ja'far telling him not to push himself.

Sinbad was so close I could smell the blood, dirt and sweat on him. That was my fault. Sure it was originally what was going to happen, but I could have stopped it. His pain was my fault through my omission.

"Why didn't you say anything?!"

Did it have to be Sinbad yelling at me? He had been my comfort character, and now he was towering over me and shoving my sins in my face. I was scared. I tried to be brave. "If I told you any of the details then you would have prevented it, and I couldn't let you-"

"Of course I would!! Are you with them?! You promised you'd explain! So explain!" The current was filling the room.

How much was okay to say? "When I said today needed to happen I meant it. Aladdin needed that new power, and Alibaba needed to take in his friend's Rukh. In a few years there's going to be a war that will trigger a worse dark spot than the one that formed in First Sindria." Sinbad's grip tightened on my shoulders, but he didn't scare me. "Aladdin and Alibaba will be among the first responders, and their help will be key to destroying the dark spot. And only a few more years after that, there will be an even greater threat. Only those with altered Rukh will be able to fight it! Today's events will lead to more than just Alibaba having their Rukh altered so they can help. I didn't want to do this! I hate that I couldn't find a way out of this!" I knew that I could potentially force those fates faster if I said the wrong thing, but there was also no way to prevent either if I said nothing.

Sinbad and the others were saying something but I couldn't hear them over my own heart beat. His grip lighten on me. His trust deserved a more thorough explanation.

"Al Thamen's agenda was written by a powerful sorcerer that could read fate. Just like most of them, he does not have a body of his own but he's still trapped in a pocket dimension. David wants to break into this world and a specific different dimension connected to it." My voice shook.

Ja'far tried to sum up my implications. "So then we just have to prevent him from-"

I laughed. "'You can't out run what's already here.'" It was a quote from Homestuck, but it worked just as well to describe the situation with David. "He gained a door to this world 10 years ago, and is now just waiting." I could feel the room stiffen. "During the fall of First Sindria he connected to that massive influx of black Rukh, and can enter through it. In a few years the leader of Al Thamen will notice and work with his current vessel to realize his goal."

Saying it out loud made tears form in my eyes. I wasn't talking about something that happened to a character; it was the world I was living in. Was David listening through Sinbad right now? I could feel the waves around me but not what they meant.

Sinbad's voice was commanding. "Where is his vessel now?"

"Even if I told you, it's not something that can be destroyed so easily." There was no way Sinbad would commit suicide, so he could figure it out for himself.

His eyes were like molten gold even in the dark as he tried to find the information I was withholding. "Why won't you tell us where?"

I was scared of answering, but it didn't make my blood run cold. Every moment I spent with Sinbad made me less scared that he would fulfill the same fate. It was still possible, but there were more possibilities now. The flow was changing.

"Because ... when you learned where he is and some other information, you were the one to activate the spell and destroy the world." I felt one tear fall.

"What? Why would I do such a thing??" Sinbad's grip on my shoulders tightened.

"Sin is doing everything he can to bring about peace!” Ja'far defended.

I put up my hands to calm them. "For the past 15 years, you have been fighting, and growing your power and influence. Sindria and the Seven Seas Alliance hold more power than 2 of the oldest and largest Empires this world has ever seen. Only an idiot would think you won't eventually become the person that stands at the top."

The waves around me urged me to continue. "When you have no more power to gain, and you reached your goal of peace, what do you do? Find a new ambition to work towards? Spend all your time maintaining the status quoe? Or do you continue doing what you've always done?" I shrugged and put my hands back down. "The answer is obvious. Upon learning that there was a way to reach other dimensions and worlds you took it. You wanted to bring your vision of equality to other dimensions." It was twisting the facts a bit, but not entirely wrong. What he had wanted was to imbue his will on the Rukh to achieve his goal of peace eternally, then he wanted to kill the gods above him to bring everyone to the same level.

The fact that they believed everything I said astounded me. I had just said that Sinbad would be the one to destroy the world. Even in the dark, I could see in his eyes the growing realization that I was right -that given the opportunity he would do anything to broadened his horizons and influence- and the silence of his generals was proof they agreed.

Sinbad's waves were swirling around me. My head was swimming. I didn't want him to hate me but it felt inevitable after telling him what type of person he'd become. Another tear fell.

"Those that fight against the spell, talk to you and make you realize there are other options, but it's too late. David will be there keeping the spell active. He is a cruel person who cannot see outside of himself and the fate he dedicated his life to. You sacrifice your life and take David down with you."

David was probably listening in. Even though letting him know that I know was dangerous, I felt like I had reached a check-mate. Sinbad now knew where David and fate would lead him if he didn't change his ways. I could feel the waves radiating out of Sinbad. He would choose a different fate. I could only hope it would be a better one.

I might not like the many of the decisions he made in the original but I liked Sinbad. He was kind at his core even when he became corrupted by pain and greed. That kindness was why he became a comfort character for me.

The tears I had been holding back began to fall and I shut my eyes -I could barely see anyway. "More than anything else, I don't want to watch you become someone you hate. You're waves are literally changing right in front of me but I still don't know if it can be avoided!" I knew Sinbad didn't agree with David, but language is power; there was no way he wasn't influenced by him.

The pressure on my left shoulder was gone, and my tears were being wiped away on that side. "You can feel my waves?" Any quieter and I would have thought I was hearing things.

I gave a half hearted attempt to shake him off; I couldn't accept a kind gesture from him. I didn't deserve it. "How could I not when they're aimed right at me?"

He had stopped wiping my tears but cupped my cheek instead. The warmth of his hand was more comforting than I could fight against. I found myself leaning into that warmth despite myself.

That's right; Sinbad could feel the waves of fate, and had so much influence over them that with his greed he became like a god before his death. How was I supposed influence him enough to save him? "I read your life so many times trying to figure how to change it! How can I prove that the ends don't justify the means when I just let people die so others can be saved in the fut-!”

I couldn't speak.

There was suddenly a soft warm pressure keeping my mouth closed and I was overwhelmed by the waves. I felt like I was under water -floating. This wave brought a strange sense of peace with it.

I didn't dare open my eyes. I didn't want to believe what I was feeling when I realized it wasn't one of his hands covering my mouth.

To add insult to injury my dumb ass didn't even try to fight it; I didn't want to fight it, and it wasn't from fear. But there had to be a better way to get my attention.

((This is the first illustration I ever made for SP. I liked it so much I

Since I couldn't speak I was calming down, or maybe my adrenaline was dying. I was a bit disgusted with myself for playing that trope straight. I couldn't believe he had shut me up that way -it was Sinbad, but still- and in front of his generals no less!

Ja'far and Masrur yelled something, and I felt Sinbad's bangs tickle my face as he stood up right and I was able to talk again.

I opened my eyes, and the complaint I wanted to say got caught in my throat when I caught his expression.

He looked as shocked as I felt. I could barely see him in the dark of the room, but there was something else in his expression that I couldn't understand, or maybe just like the kiss, I didn't want to believe what I was seeing.

His hand caressed my cheek as it slipped off. It was only then that I noticed how much his hands were trembling. Of course he was exhausted. He had been badly injured fighting the dark Djinn, and used up a lot of magoi.

Sinbad leaned towards me again and closed his eyes, but he definitely wasn't aiming to lock lips again. His other hand slipped off of my shoulder as he fell on top of me. I managed to catch him and not crumple under his weight. I'd carried 6ft(183cm) tall men before so I wasn't unused to our size difference. They were twinks though. Sinbad's muscle put him outside of the range I could deal with for long. I knew I was out of shape, but, dang, he was heavy as dead weight.

Ja'far and Masrur took him off my hands -literally. On their way out Ja'far let me know that we'd "have to continue this conversation later" like it wasn't obvious, and apologized on Sinbad's behalf for his behavior towards the end.

After that I passed out from all the emotions and sudden lack of adrenaline.

((You can see which parts I was able to save and reuse in the final version. :3

The end got kinda rambly and preachy, huh? A lot of the dead end chapters have moments like that where they devolve into grief letters.

I want to post the ch5 and maybe ch6 from this Dead End too, but I'm stuck between 2 drafts from the ch5: Draft11(more violent) or Draft13(less violent). Where ch4 has Mori basically venting and processing my feelings about Sinbad to Sinbad, ch5 is the same but for Ja'far. Parts of ch5 were used in the start of final version of ch24. Also, the fears that lead Mori to act the way they did with Ja'far in ch19 are what happens in the Dead End of ch5. If you guys could let me know which version you're more interested in, I'd really appreciate it.))

#adventures of Simpbad #magi prophet fanfic #sinbad x oc #sinbadxoc #magi fanfiction #magi fanart #king sinbad #sinbad magi #magi sinbad

[novankenn]

Corpse Queen (v1-1)

/== Table of Contents ==/

Jaune felt wet, warm and cold all at the same time. His breathing was difficult, and his vision was getting darker. He didn’t understand, truly, what had happened, but he had a feeling that all his dreams were about to end. His body grew limp, and he fell to the side, his eyes still open, blood dripping from the corner of his agape mouth, as he tried in vain to keep breathing.

Jaune had no idea what to do, and the last thing he could remember seeing before his vision failed was the face of the young woman that had stood there smiling at him in silence. His final thought just before everything faded away… “She’s pretty…”

/==/

Neo gently prodded the body before her, with the toe of her boot, making sure to not get any blood upon them. There was no response. She did it once more just to be sure. Her strike with Hush had been true, sinking into her target’s chest easily.  She actually felt slightly bad about this job, not enough to have her not do it, but bad enough that she made it as quick and painless as she could.

Why fire-bitch would want this kid dead, she didn’t understand, and to be honest it didn’t matter. The job was done, and after an hour, she would drop an anonymous tip to the VPD with the body’s location. It was the only other thing she could do for the poor guy, and if he was lucky, he had family to take him home. Cloaking herself in her semblance, she skipped out of the alley, and made her way to the ice-cream shop across the street. Everything went so smoothly, that she felt like treating herself.

/==/

“Did… did it... work?” Morrigan gasped out as she opened her eyes. She flinched in the light and then grunted due to a pain in her chest. Looking down to assess the damage, she paused, and blinked. “Seriously?”

With a groan, she rolled over her new body, and forced it to stand. Stumbling over to the nearest wall, she made her new body grab hold and brace, as she began to search through her new vessel's memories. She needed to gain an understanding of where she was. Her quick glance at her surroundings told her she was in a much different place than her home.

“So it worked…” she looked at the male hand before her. “In a fashion.”

Making her new form stand straight, she had him rolled his shoulders, before taking another look around. She tried to pull from her vessel’s memories, but it was slow, and disjointed. His recent death causing significant interference. Finally having full control, she moved his body out of the alley into the crowded sidewalk. Turning to the left, a reflection caught her attention.

“He is boyishly handsome, and seems to be in decent shape.” She talked to herself in a voice that was not her own. “It could have been much worse. This will do until I… can I help you?”

Morrigan looked down to her right after feeling her new body being poked in the side. Just to her right she saw a young woman, a rather shapely young woman, with pink and brown hair, with some white streaks. 

“Well?” Morrigan waited, and waited some more. Crossing her arms over the chest of her new body, and giving the short woman a glare. “I have things I need to be doing, so if you would please… tell me what you want or walk away.”

The smile the woman gave her, made Morrigan react instantly.  A thin blade slicing the air where her heart used to be.

#rwby #dead mount death play #jaune arc #morrigan letum balor (OC) #neopolitian (rwby) #joplin hedera (OC) #manipulation #possession #reincarnation