#projecting the love that i have for my cats onto every living being in the world right now.
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— my newest obsession are these cat stamps...i must find and own every last one of them, even if it kills me.
#myra photoblogs !#myra's affirmations !#projecting the love that i have for my cats onto every living being in the world right now.#cute cats#caturday#catlover#kitty#kitten#stamps#stamp collecting
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scent
PAIRING: jaehyun x afab reader
WORD COUNT: 1.5k
SUMMARY: you are ready to catch your inconsiderate neighbor who keeps smoking below your open window and what you find surprises you
AUTHOR'S NOTE: I know I owe you all Dive Part 2, I know. Things have gotten in the way of me writing but I am ready to get out of my own head about it. I'm here now and I'm happy to be writing. I'll have Dive Part 2 very soon because most of it's written and a lot of it is in my head, but for now, please take this peace offering of one of my favorite Jaehyun visuals to exist <3 Thank you for all the new followers and the continued love for Dive.
WARNINGS: cigarette smoking, weed smoking reference, explicit smut, carbon copy of Jaehyun from his I Like Me Better cover but hot neighbor version
PLAYLIST: I Like Me Better by Lauv (Jaehyun cover), Cigarette Daydreams by Cage the Elephant, Cigarette by offonoff, Tablo, Miso
~~
A familiar scent tickles your nose, causing you to sneeze violently, three in a rapid fire succession. You slam your knitting project down on your coffee table and peel yourself off the couch and over to your glass sliding door that leads out onto your small apartment balcony. Ripping open the screen door, you lean over the shaky railing to see a strong trail of smoke floating up towards you, knowing the inconsiderate cigarette smoker must be standing below your window at this moment.
For months you have been unable to leave your windows open consistently because despite your building’s policy against smoking, someone has still taken it upon themselves to smoke directly next to the building. You used to enjoy sunny afternoons on your balcony with a glass of lemonade or being able to leave all your windows open for weeks at a time during the pleasant fall months.
You aren’t one to hate on someone else’s relaxation methods - you yourself loved a bong filled with the favorite indica blend your friend grows or a couple gummies on a lazy Saturday in the park. It’s just the scent of cigarettes filling your apartment, clinging onto your clothes and hand knit sweaters air drying in your living room that got on your nerves. Your cat seemed equally annoyed, scrunching up his delicate features whenever the scent would waft in.
You quickly slide into shoes near your door and run down the back stairs of the building, hoping to finally catch the person in the act and give them a piece of your mind. You push open the emergency exit door abruptly and almost run head on into a tall figure, causing you to stumble back and almost fall. A hand is suddenly gripping your forearm, steadying you.
“Whoaaaa, you ok?” comes a low and gravelly voice as you lift your eyes up to meet his.
What you see is startling and not what you imagined. A handsome face with a sharp jaw and lightly styled lavender hair hanging over sparkling eyes looks back at you. His shoulders are broad, covered by a black t-shirt with a small silver cross dangling on top. Black denim is tight on his thighs with slits at the knees, held up by a belt with silver accents. He has a dark sweatshirt draped over his shoulder and he adjusts it slightly as he releases your arm.
“Um…” you start, unable to find your words before the anger flares up in your chest again, seeing an almost finished cigarette held gently in his fingertips.
“No, I’m not!” you continue, pulling your arms tightly across your chest. “Do you have to smoke right below my window almost every day?” you find your voice raising more than you had intended, cheeks flushing deep red as you speak.
He chuckles lightly, taking a final drag from the stick before dropping it to the ground and stamping it out with the toe of his sneaker. He brings the same hand back up to run through his silvery locks, taking a step back to pull the hoodie over his head, tugging the hood up to cover his hair.
“It’s about time you said something,” he mutters, taking a step closer and closing the gap further between you two.
It’s only now that you recognize him. With the black hood covering his hair and silver rings adorning his fingers you realize it’s the same man who always holds the door for you when you arrive home from work at the same time each evening. You often see him heading out to his car early on the weekends and swear you’ve even seen him at your local gym on occasion. You had never caught a whiff of the smoky scent from him before, and now as he invades your personal space, you breathe in deeply.
Despite you having barely spoken with the man, he had become a comforting figure in your life, noticing when he didn’t walk from the parking lot with you and especially when you struggled to balance all your grocery bags and iced coffee at once. Occasionally he would compliment your sweater, scarf, or beanie and you would joke back that you could make him one. The times when you really appreciated his presence were the winter nights when the sun set earlier and you had to make the dark walk from your car. He would always walk in front of you, giving you a warm smile and wave before doing so to reassure you. He would then linger while you checked your mail but not too long to let you go to your door in peace.
You didn’t even know his name or what unit he lived in, but that didn’t stop you from thinking of him late at night when you were bundled up under the covers or during steaming showers in the morning. Your delusional mind had sent you through countless daydreams of him draped across your lap as you made him a dark green beanie to match the hoodie he always wore or gloves to cover his large hands.
Something about the way that his cologne laced hoodie mixes with the cigarette smoke is intoxicating and inviting. The way his eyes are sparkling in the afternoon sun is making your heart race and every trace of anger leaving your previously perturbed mind.
“You…you always hold the door for me,” you mumble back, feeling your legs shuffle you forward even closer.
“I’m your neighbor, Jaehyun,” he replies, flashing a toothy grin that forces adorable dimples to appear on his cheeks.
“Now that I’ve finally gotten your attention, why don’t you let me make it up to you so I don’t have to keep standing out here smoking,” he replies quietly, placing a hand on the side of your neck, thumb brushing up against your jaw gently.
Your lips are on his and kissing with a sense of urgency you didn’t realize you held. His mouth greedily opens for you to slide your tongue in, tasting the bitter tobacco mixed with mint, unable to get enough of the menthol flavor. You slide your hands into the pocket of his hoodie, pulling him closer before slipping them down to grip his ass through his tight jeans.
He smiles against your mouth, applying pressure at your neck with his fingers and finding the hem of your shirt to slide under and stroke your waist gently. As your bodies meld together you feel his hardening length through his pants and groan as he presses into you. Your thighs press together, desperate for friction as he keeps kissing you deeper and deeper, leaving you gasping for air when you finally break apart.
“I thought you were going to make me a beanie,” he laughs against your lips, looping a strong arm around your waist before pulling open the nearby door, peppering your neck with kisses as you both stumbled up the stairs to your apartment.
Once inside, his hands are all over you, ripping at your t-shirt and pulling your sweats down to the floor before pulling you up into his arms. You wrap your legs around his middle tight, sinking your teeth hungrily at his lower lip, eliciting a deep moan from him. You laugh against his mouth, dropping your legs down and letting your feet dig into your hallway carpet again.
“Let’s see how this goes and then we can talk about the beanie,” you reply between kisses, ripping his hoodie and shirt off his body in one motion. Your brain short circuits briefly at his tight abs and broad chest before you turn on your heel and head back towards your bedroom, unclasping your bra as you walk, letting it fall to the ground.
A few hours later your cheek is resting against his bare chest as your cat jumps up on the bed and howls in surprise at the man under your covers. He paws over and starts swatting at his hair, scrunching his nose at the scent held there. He moves to you, sniffing at your skin and finding the same smell, eliciting an annoyed sound he usually made when you were taking too long opening his can of food. You laugh at the cat and push him gently to the edge of the bed where he begrudgingly curls up into a ball with a flick of his tail as a warning.
“Guess he doesn’t like me,” Jaehyun laughs, pulling you closer to him to place a tender kiss on your forehead.
His lips on your skin brings flashes of how it felt to ride him just moments before, your lips pressed against his as you pulled your body slowly up and down his cock. His large hands had found a home at your lower back, making circles there with your thumbs. He would occasionally drop his mouth to your neck, biting there before moving lower to suck one of your nipples between his soft lips, teeth grazing lightly. You could feel him moan against your skin and pull you closer to him, spurring you on to move faster in his lap.
Pulled back to the present, you shake your head in reply, breathing in deeply as the faint scent of cigarettes fills your nose, mixed with the lingering notes of his peach body wash. Somehow, the way he smells isn’t offensive to you, it’s quite the opposite.
Maybe you didn’t hate the smell of tobacco after all.
#nct x reader#nct smut#nct fanfic#jaehyun#jaehyun smut#jaehyun fic#jaehyun x reader#jaehyun x y/n#jaehyun x you
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some more rylan headcanons
dylan has a bit of a tummy and softer pecs. he used to be self conscious about that, but has come to accept and like that part of himself, especially when ryan nuzzles tummy/chest pretty often.
ryan wears dresses/skirts pretty often. he never did at camp because duh he doesn't want to get his nicer clothes dirty. dylan nearly faints the first time he sees ryan in a black, lacy goth dress. wow.
ryan didn't have any family pets before, so he has never lived with a cat. that being said, he adores schrodinger and she definitely accepts him as dad #2. it took a bit of time, but neither of them will forget the first night where they were both chilling on the couch and she jumped onto ryan's lap instead of dylan's
they're both halfway decent at cooking and take turns, but neither will say no if one of them suggests just ordering a pizza
in high school dylan did gymnastics (which he keeps up a modified version of after losing his hand) and basketball (not by choice, his dad made him do it), in addition to band and physics club. ryan did track and field (he's always liked running), swim/rowing (duh), and was part of his school's small but loyal anime club. ryan also had a small stint in the mathletes, and wasn't actually too bad, but it just took up too much of his time and he didn't really like it, so he left
dylan grows his hair out a bit after the events of hackett's quarry. ryan likes to brush and braid it for him, sometimes, too.
likewise, dylan loves to massage ryan's scalp on wash day (honestly personal goals i would love someone to massage my scalp on my wash days lol)
ryan isn't big on social media except for sharing progress on his animation projects, buuut he definitely loves how often dylan posts pictures of them, and lets dylan pick what picture of them he should use for his profile pic
guess who is scared of needles and isn't dylan? ryan can't help it, okay! dylan holds his hand through the entire time for his first tattoo (it is a small tribute to his late dad)
meanwhile dylan has a scarily high tolerance for physical pain. sometimes it concerns ryan, but dylan will often reassure him that he will let him know if he is really hurt.
dylan is obvious when he's jealous, ryan simmers in silence. their jealousy never lasts long, though. their bond and loyalty to each other is just too strong.
miscommunication is somewhat of an issue early on in their relationship. dylan tries so hard to always be 'on' and 'blase dylan' to avoid facing some of the trauma and awkwardness that it frustrates and confuses ryan, especially since he can see through it. with a bit of progress in therapy for both of them and a few difficult conversations, they find a healthy balance that allows them to deepen their relationship.
they love sitting in each other's laps. again, not necessarily big on PDA, but goddamn ryan often uses dylan for a seat and dylan usually has at least one limb laid over ryan at minimum. they just like the physical contact
ryan helps dylan shave after he loses his hand. he's so gentle and tender. they'll never forget those moments, looking into each other's eyes as ryan gently moved the blade. dylan learns again how to shave his face properly with his slightly less dominant hand, but every so often he'll make big puppy dog eyes and ask ryan to do it. ryan says yes every time.
ryan finds them new podcasts and shows for them to binge. dylan finds them concerts and community events to go to.
they get married by a judge with little fanfare and have a pretty sick party with their families and fellow hackett's quarry survivors after. (yes they play truth or dare)
dylan is absolutely mesmerized by watching ryan swim for, y'know, obvious reasons.
ryan is instantly hot in his pants whenever dylan goes off on some nerdy rant.
they have a 'toy' chest, as well as an extra dresser in their closet full of leather and lace lingerie. oh, and dylan's sexy nurse costume.
"babe" is their often go-to pet names, but dylan does call ryan "big guy" more often than they'd like to admit. ryan also likes it more than he would like to admit.
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It really is wild to tell a doctor to their face that I have tried to "push myself" to regain my mobility and it put me on bedrest for like three fucking months only for them to be like "well have you tried pushing yourself to regain your mobility??" like bro going on a 15 minute slow-ass walk around my neighborhood once a day for a month took away what was left of my mobility for THREE months and my knee STILL hurts more now than it did before. Pushing myself lead to me permanently making my pain worse, not better.
I also wasn't kidding about the cooking thing, I broke down about not being able to cook because I love cooking so much and eating take out and boxed/frozen food all the time SUCKS so my fiancé helped me make just spaghetti one night, just sauce, cheese, and noodles, it took 45 minutes, I was wearing my knee brace, and I sat down as much as possible, and I was in so much pain by the end that I could barely stand. How do I "push myself" in this situation?? I can't even make a basic dinner for myself and my fiancé without having to give up doing anything else including showering and giving my cat her meds and shit like that for the entire rest of the day. How do I push from here??
Like I just genuinely don't know how you can hear all that and then say to my face that continually injuring myself in this way is going to yield positive results. Every time I have pushed I have limited my mobility further. My PT even TOLD me I shouldn't reach the point of being in actual pain while exercising, if I'm hurting really bad I need to stop so I don't injure myself. How does my PT know that when my fucking rhumatologist doesn't??? How does it not make sense for me even just stay mobile until I hit my limit and then use the wheelchair so hitting my limit doesn't mean "not being able to do anything for the next two days"?????
It's like they think I just started hurting and fucking gave up immediately. I was forced to quit my job THAT I LOVED SO MUCH because even when I hit the point where I could barely walk or sit without pain I didn't want to give it up, I kept pushing myself until my fiancé would have to practically carry my ass to the car at the end of my shifts, and it ended with me so disabled I still can't work. My fiancé legit has to constantly step in to stop me from pushing myself too far because I just want to do the things I want to do and I will hurt myself because of it!! I'm independent to a fault, I hate nothing more than admitting that I can't do something I want to do. Every shred of mobility I have sacrificed has been torn from my very unwilling hands, I haven't given up, I've had it taken from me. I never stopped trying to keep walking, keep working, keep cooking, keep going places, I had to stop because I had no other alternative. It was that or destroy my body. And tbh overall I still chose "destroy my body" more often than I should have.
But they still act like I'm giving up. Like it's me being lazy and stupid that got me here. Like if I was willing to just cope with the pain and not give up it would fix everything even though I already tried that.
I dont hate being disabled, I really don't, even though I've had to give up so much stuff. I grew up with a disabled mother, she's used a wheelchair my entire life and tbh I'm thankful because it seems to have spared me the all too familiar abled worldview that disability is something tragic and shameful and horrifying. It's just life, it's always just been my life, and becoming disabled was pretty easy to accept because I never saw it as a tragic fate to be avoided at all costs. This is the body I have, this is what it can and can't do, my life isn't over it's just different now, I'm allowed to mourn what I used to be able to do while recognizing that I can still live a full life with the right kind of medical care. Most of my frustration comes from people projecting their ableist feelings about disability onto me! It's why "oh but you're so young" comments make me want to deck people.
The only thing I hate about being disabled is other people and all their fucking issues that they keep projecting onto me. The way doctors act like it's better for me to give up everything I do just so I can eventually maybe regain some of my mobility rather than give me the help that would ACTUALLY make that possible. And I cannot stand the way I'm treated like some sort of stupid infant who doesn't have any idea what's best for her because I recognize my own limitations and ask for help. The pain isn't even the worst part, it's the dehumanization and infantilization. The insistence that suffering is better than "giving up" and using a mobility aid. The idea that something happening to someone like me is a tragedy and not just part of life. And the way it constantly makes me feel like I'm the problem when I fucking KNOW I'm not.
Every issue I have faced has been a result of the way other people have treated me. My mobility probably wouldn't even be as bad as it is now if my doctors had Fucking Listened To Me when I first brought up my chronic pain as a teenager, because if they had they would have figured out that I have EDS and will always be damaging my joints and thus need braces NOW to prevent that damage from progressing. I hate thinking about how not being taken seriously by doctors is what got me here in the first place. I'm so fucking tired of my fate being in the hands of people who won't help me and then blame ME for how bad I'm doing and insist I have no idea what I'm talking about and helping me would make things worse actually and have you tried just suffering more.
It's legit inhumane. I just want to be treated like a person, and maybe have some recognition for the way other people constantly make my life hell rather than people acting like I got myself into this situation when I fucking didn't, they did.
I was never the problem.
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I only listen or follow more socialist minded pro life women these days. No men at all. Even if they might say or post something that aligns with my views, I don’t trust them at all.
Men who claim to be Christian tend to just hate women, and use pro life activism to angry fight for the right to kill women and let men off easy with impregnating them. The babies they swear to protect? Nothing. Once they’re born, and if the mother does get the death penalty, those babies will be neglected since these men also hate any social program for being liberal. I’ve never seen an account on any social media operated by this type of man who doesnt hate both women who have sex and those women who stay single. Have sex? You’re a whore who deserves all the worst treatment. Stay celibate and single? You’re a pathetic lonely cat lady that is neglecting your “womanly duties” I think also these types of men are just gay too, they love the company of men and despise women in public. But can’t handle that fact and feel ashamed so they justify their anger in the Bible by projecting onto women for being “sinful creations” sorry for this rant, I just really stay away from men who call themselves conservative christian in this movement. They’re dangerous to women’s safety and wellbeing
Yeah I'm extremely distrustful of male pro lifers. I find pretty suspect how they never tried to make space for themselves and always try to insert themselves into pro life female space. Pro life men definitely have ground to organize to make group defending fathers' rights in defending their unborn child right to live (when the mom wants to abort), which would be a wholesome version of men rights activism (instead of picking fights with women)
You entire post is absolutely pristine anyway so there's much to say or comment anyway lol Almost every Christian I interacted with turned out to be some weirdo. It's indeed very weird to see them being allegedly so protective of babies and the unborn, only to turn around and behave like grade A pricks with everyone around them. It's almost like they wanted those babies to live and grow to keep having people around they can victimize.
So they'll hide behind the "oh but babies are innocent uwu" but if they're Christian, they should understand that no one is innocent anyway and that we're all worthy of death and eternal punishment. The Bible calls us to be nice & show Grace to EVERYONE and not only people we dem worthy of kindness. Jesus hanged around and redeemed the very same people those so called "Christian pro life" call worthless and unredeemable. They lack any Christlike quality.
#please vent more I love your energy you're soooo right about everything ⭐#and sorry for being criminally late answering this ask 😔#answered
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The Love You Want: II, part one.
Summary:
II wanted to be acknowledged. To be seen for all the effort he puts into every part of his life. Sleep offers him that
Asks him to become a vessel, the Second.
Asks him to fulfill the wish of their First, Vessel, his wish to be loved.
There was something about Vessel that drew II in, like a moth to a flame. Finding out just how damaged Vessel is doesn't make II run, it makes him want to stay.
Part two of The Love You Want series, detailing II's acceptance of Sleep and transformation into a Vessel, and just how quickly the two came to care for each other.
They were destined for it, to love and be loved in return, and no amount of hesitation or fear on Vessel's part could stop the entwining of their souls.
Tags: hurt/comfort, self-harm, mutual pining, implied/referenced past domestic abuse, implied referenced past parental neglect, religious themes, suicide, murder, self-worth issues, Vessel Has A Bad Time™️, so does II but he's got Vessel =D, Temporary Character Death, eventual polyvessels. Eventual II/Vessel.
Ngl this fic was supposed to be more slow burn than this but II said nuh uh I will be loving and adoring Vessel and if anything happens to him I will kill everyone in this room and then myself
Word count: 10,223
Masterlist
Part one
Link to ao3:
Fic under the cut
They came to him in a dream as he was teetering on the edge of life and death.
He remembered choking, gasping for breath as his own blood bubbled past his lips as he coughed it up and back onto himself. There was a knife in his chest, his wallet nowhere to be seen. He hurt, knees bruised and palms scraped as his lungs burned with a fire he'd never felt before. A bruise blossoming along his jaw and the back of his head felt... wet. Darkness at the edge of his vision encroaching quickly. His life before this had been mundane, working a job he hated and focusing on his drumming hobby in his free time. Cutting through an alley to get home faster had cost him his life, but he was so tired, eager to get home after his boss kept him overtime promising to pay, when he knows the man just likes to see him suffer and not pay him his dues. He didn't let that stop him from fighting tooth and nail against his robber though, hopes they have to go to the hospital for the broken jaw and nose, and the teeth marks in his arm. Maybe he would've lived another day, but there's no point in dwelling on it now. He's dead, or close to it anyway.
They came to him. Asked him to be born anew as he floated in a vast expanse of stars, weightless as Their voice echoed around him, an amalgamation of every voice he had ever heard. "Will you be my vessel through which my message will be spread? I can give you everything you've ever wanted, if you accept me into your mind, your body, and your soul."
"You want me to be your vessel? To spread your message? Who are you? What about my cat Elvira? I can't leave her, she's my beloved pet." He raises an eyebrow, looking around him at the beauty of the stars as a small sense of wonder flows through him.
"I am Sleep, though that is not my true name. It cannot be spoken by any era of your race, ancient as it is. I suppose you can keep your so-called pet, though I do not understand its purpose."
"Sleep? Like, literal sleep?" Theres a pause, "Why do you want me?"
"In truth, I want you to be a companion of my first Vessel. Your musical abilities and loving soul wrapped in steel drew me in, and you would make an almost perfect fit as a vessel of mine. Alas, I did not need more than one Vessel, so I chose the most perfect one, my First vessel. But, he has experienced a great deal of pain in his life. In exchange for being my Vessel, my First, he has asked to be loved. With your help, I will give him the love of the world through his music in which he worships me and brings new followers. I will gain more worshippers from this, ultimately, with more than one of you. Admittedly, I have endeavored to grant his wish on a more personal level."
"What, so I'm going to help your first vessel with his music career and in return gain, what, exactly? What do I get out of this?"
"What is your wish?"
Thinking on it, the answer comes to him easily with a tilt of his head. "I wish to be acknowledged for my talents, I suppose."
"I can grant you that in more ways than one. Through your worship, yourself and my vessel will gain fame and prosperity. I foresee many worshippers will love you for your talents. My vessel will know your skill, adept in music as he is. His nature, his experiences, will allow him to acknowledge your talents and the effort you put into every part of your life."
"Why do you want to help this first vessel of yours so much anyway? You seem confident that he will acknowledge me. Not many in my life ever have."
"I cannot understand pain. I do not feel it, cannot even imagine it. I am hoping as his companion, you, and eventually some others, will love him in whatever capacity you all can. He has never once been loved in his short life, broken down by those who were supposed to love him, and in his despair ended his life, bringing him to me. You're a caring soul who can help him take care of himself, and he needs that most of all. There is no question of the lengths he will go to be loved."
"Show me him." He decides, warming up to the idea quickly.
He was alone in his apartment with just his cat for company. His last relationship ended amicably, but there was always something missing from every one he'd ever had. Maybe this way he won't be so alone.
"Very well."
The expanse around him shrinks down to a small galaxy in front of him, and in that swirling void of stars, a moving image forms. A masked man sits on the floor, leaned against a wall. No part of his face is visible but there is a mess of dark hair spilling out over the sides of the mask. Something hypnotizing about him, pulling him under with every passing moment. There is a pen and journal in his hands, and as the man watches Vessel, he can hear a beautiful, sad tune being hummed. Then, he begins to sing quietly, the lyrics on the paper before him forming a haunting melody.
"The daylight recedes in unison, this room buries the hours like death in motion, nobody else can pull me out, the fields of elation, quiet and loamy~"
His voice is gorgeous, bouncing off the walls with its strength and control. There is despair clawing it's way out from his throat, overcast by the bitter hope, golden tears dripping from the bottom of the mask. The first vessel lifts it enough for his lips to show and a shaky exhale falls from the onlookers lips as pale skin and bitten lips are revealed to him.
Angel bite piercings glint in the fading sunlight as the mask is put back in place. There's an aching in his soul, as though some part of him calls out to the sad man sitting all alone in a bare room, singing with the most beautiful voice he has ever heard.
Unable to look away, even as the image fades, the man speaks his answer before the God has any chance to say anything. There's something drawing him in. Something about that man. He has never felt anything like it, and wants to know him. He has to. Something in him demands it. Craves it. Aches for him. He would consider it scary if it didn't feel so right.
"I accept. I will become your second vessel. What do I have to do?"
The universe around him changes. Within a blink, he is laying on a beach. Sand surrounds him and sticks to his messy hair as he sits up quickly. The waves nearby are loud, crashing onto shore gently and receding. The sky above him is cloudy, dark masses swirling above and across the grey expanse, just barely visible in the night. Above him, a large moon hangs, its glowing rays never touching the ground he sits upon, like a barrier stops it.
He sits in a circle of candles, their yellow flame the only illumination around.
"An offering of your blood will suffice, and in return I will grant you some of my power as I did my first."
"A blood offering? That's it?" Raising an eyebrow, he can't help but think this all seems a bit underwhelming.
He's accepting a God into his mind, body, and soul, and all they require is a little blood?
"Much of my essence was given to the First, as was required. We are not being connected in quite the same way, so the requirements are different. Blood will suffice."
"Fine, what do I do?"
An ornate plate materializes next to him, and on it, a sharp knife with a simple wooden hilt.
"Do not be alarmed, and look away before too long passes."
The moon splinters at the bottom, six black eyes blinking open at once along its surface to stare down at him. From the gaping hole still slowly splintering apart, dark tendrils emerge, thick masses that taper down to a point, and they head right towards him. He only watches for a moment, looking away, down at the sand, like Sleep ordered. He wonders if his mind would have survived looking any longer.
"Offer every bit of blood you have to me. I will replace it with my essence."
"All of it? Won't that kill me?"
"You are already dead. You need to become something more than human. Do not fret, my first did the same thing."
"Did he also need to cut into his own arm and let himself bleed out?"
"No, he did not offer up his blood in the same way. If I had asked him to, he could have with ease. My first is quite used to making himself bleed."
Horror fills him at the blatant implications of what that means. He could tell the first vessel was depressed, had killed himself, but to be so in pain that he brought even more of it to himself on purpose? Steeling his resolve, he picks up the knife. This first vessel was likely going to continue following a dark path, and he wants to help steer him from it. His soul demands it.
He's shaking as he brings the knife to his wrist. This is a small price to pay for the power of a God, he tries to reason with himself. He'll be granted fame and finally be acknowledged for his talents and efforts. He'll be gaining someone who will see him for who he is, accept him. Sleep promised that.
"Will I remember any of this?" He asks, wincing as the first drag of the blade up his vein stings and burns with fire.
He continues as Sleep answers, blood spilling over his arm up to his elbow before he moves on to the next arm. The tendrils snake their way around his bleeding arm, and a strange feeling emits from the limb, a tingling like the limb has fallen asleep but the pain remains.
"You will remember only that I have asked you to help bring worshippers my message by helping my first Vessel. You will tell him the same, and your wish when you accepted. You will not remember anything else. I do not understand humans, but from what I've witnessed through their dreams and nightmares, I fear that if I tell him your purpose is to love him, he will never trust you nor accept it."
"Hm, that makes sense. He might have some issues then, but I'm perfectly willing to help him with them, if he'll let me. He's- I've never seen someone radiate such bone-deep sadness before. I want to help him."
Other arm done, he can feel himself growing dizzy. Its much like when he bled to his death before being brought to this dream by the god of Sleep. It unsettles him, to be so close to that feeling again, knowing his bloodstream was emptying on purpose this time somehow making it... worse.
"That is all I can ask for. I need him alive, as connected as we are, but I want him happy. I do not understand your human emotions well, but if his soul is singing in joy, then his chances of living rise exponentially. He- Is my First Vessel, and very dear to me."
Humming, the man sinks to his knees before the offering plate, weak knees giving out on him. Through blurring vision, an apple appears on the plate as the tendrils recede. One remains wrapped around his torso to steady him as he sways. "Eat the apple of Eden, taste the divine, and accept me into your soul. When you awaken, you will be at the edge of my domain in your human lands. My first knows of your arrival."
A nod is all he can manage as he reaches forth, picking up the apple and bringing it to his lips. The texture is as any apple should be, but the juice tastes of iron, and when he pulls it away from his mouth, blood spills over onto his hand, his own blood. He continues eating. The taste is wonderful, and no food he can remember tastes anything like it. He can't imagine anything ever will.
This is the taste of the divine, and he wishes nothing more than to bask in the flavor forever, but alas the apple is soon gone, all except for the core which has a strange texture he finds he doesn't care for. It pulses gently as he sets it down and he wonders what exactly it is.
Time is... strange here, even stranger still as blood lingers on his tongue. It flows slowly, like wading through knee-high mud and yet some moments, when his mind is particularly foggy, its like a river, fast, harsh, and unrelenting in its pace.
He finds he cannot remember his name. Cannot remember the faces of his parents. His- mothers? Did he have two mothers? He did, he knows he did. What did they look like? The image of them smiling at him slips from his grasp as he tries desperately to hold on. No, he can't remember. Can't recall any of his childhood friends, or his drumming teacher, he can't remember anything except his cat, and the pain of every failed relationship, be it platonic or romantic. The pain of no one ever acknowledging how much time and effort, blood and tears, went into perfecting his drumming, of- of how deeply he tried, with his entire being,, heart and soul, at everything he's ever done in his life.
Vision darkening, he falls back, the tendrils letting him go with no amount of gentleness. Tears spill from his eyes, but he can't tell if they're from sadness or joy, the mix of emotions swirling inside him like that galaxy he floated in before.
"Rest now, II. When you wake, you must find I and my manor."
Slipping away into sleep, his name, his title, his position, sticks out.
Two. II.
::
When II awakens, who he was before ceased to be. He couldn't remember his name. The faces of his mothers. Of his boss who used to torment him day in and day out. Couldn't remember the face of the man who killed him for his wallet and the $20 bill inside. He remembered the pain, the agony, the fear. II remembered accepting Sleep, what they offered to him. Fame, recognition for just how much of himself he puts into everything he does.
A meow reaches him, a weight on his chest becoming apparent as his mind fully wakes up. Blinking his blue eyes open, II comes face to face with his fluffy black cat Elvira. She sits on his chest, her own face up close to his. Meowing again, she rubs her head against his chin and he holds her close as he sits up. On one side of him is a vast forest, and on the other a small, beat up old car sits, behind it a road leading off into a clearer space. The sun is low in the sky, the sunset casting brilliant colors of red, orange, and pink over the canopies above him.
A mask sits in his lap, a simple black cloth material with a strange symbol, Sleep's he realizes, printed in white over the face. Slipping it on with some difficulty while still holding Elvira, something settles in his chest. The mask feels right, like he was meant to wear it.
There is a pull in the direction of the forest, leading him off into the distance. So, II begins walking after a small glance back at the desolate car. The trees are easy enough to navigate through, but roots catch his feet every few minutes or so. At some point it was simply safer to let Elvira walk beside him rather than hold her in case he falls.
Silence surrounds him as he walks, except for the quiet sound of crunching underbrush below foot. He walks for what feels like hours, mind and body both lagging from the strain of accepting his new god, just barely managing not to fall. The light from the sun fades completely at some point, but II continues on into the darkness, following that tether in his chest. He stumbles more often, sticking closer to trees to try and balance himself. A stray root catches his foot and he goes tumbling over with a cry. Elvira meows from somewhere beside him and II closes his eyes and tries to brace for impact with his arms.
There is a cold hand on his arm, keeping him steady and helping him to his feet. Despite the unexpected touch, II's body does not jerk away in fear, nor does his mind devolve into terror. It should have, given the circumstances, but his body and mind seem to be in agreement with his very soul that sings at the touch.
The hand helps him right himself, grip strong but so gentle that II automatically leans into it just slightly. "I can see in the dark, do not fret. Come, I will lead you back to the manor."
The voice belonging to the hand is soft and soothing, calming whatever nerves had been building up in the silence. "I'm Sleep's first, my name is Vessel. Do you have a name yet?"
There is a quiet uncertainty, a hesitant fear in the other man's voice and II finds he wants to comfort him. Vessel does not need to be wary of him, and II is desperate for the man to know that.
"I've decided on II, like the number in roman numerals. This is my cat Elvira. Sleep said you would know of my arrival but I thought I was supposed to find the manor myself." II gestures lightly at himself, then around him for emphasis.
"I couldn't let you traverse this forest alone in the dark. I did, when I arrived, and it isn't pleasant alone. I walked in circles for hours, fell over every root there was, I think, before I finally found my way, though the pull in my chest tried to guide me. The walk here was much shorter this time." Vessel is quiet still, like he's afraid of being too loud, of disturbing the air around him with his voice.
His steps are quiet too, silent even, II can't even hear him or his breathing. The only indicator that the man is there at all is the gentle, guiding touch on his bicep. II should be afraid, but he isn't. He cannot even see the man, doesn't even know what he looks like. Was he given a mask like II's?
"I hope my cat doesn't bother- Oh shit, is she still following us? I can't see her." II panics, jerking his head around and squinting very hard at the ground like he'll be able to see in the dark suddenly.
"Calm down, its alright. I'm holding her in my other arm right now. A sweet thing isn't she? Not tried to bite or scratch me once."
Vessel's soothing tone, when he's actually trying to soothe, works wonders alongside his words. II laughs, calmer now, the loud sound startling Vessel into jerking back but keeping his hand steady, "Lucky you. Her name is Elvira. She bit me when I first rescued her. People don't treat black cats well, you know? Especially around Halloween. She was scared, some kids were being mean to her so I brought her home. Had to get a bunch of nasty shots to make sure I didn't get rabies. She's only a few years old."
II realizes he's rambling to this man he just met, about his cat no less. "Sorry, you probably don't care."
Vessel smiles, enjoying how the worry crinkled the edges of II's pretty blue eyes as the man realizes just how much he was talking Vessel's ears off, his hands dropping from where they were moving with his words. It's cute.
"No, it's alright. I've never had a pet. She's cute." Vessel laughs, more of a huff of air than an actual laugh, but it tilts the edges of II's lips up involuntarily anyway.
II wonders if he smiled while he did so, if his shoulders shook with the action.
"She can stay then? Sleep said it was alright." II smiles fully now, unsure.
It ends a little lopsided, endearingly enough, Vessel notices.
"Oh, yes, it's perfectly fine. We'll need to get her things though. The manor is empty. Most of the furniture was rotted or broken entirely so I threw it away. I'm sorry to say there is no bed for you or her to sleep on." Vessel sounds genuinely sorry, nervous even, like II was going to reprimand him for something that wasn't his fault.
"That's alright. This way I'll get to choose my own things! Do you have money to buy anything? I-"
II cringes, the memories of his death coming back full force, one of the only things he remembers from Before. Gasping out, II holds his chest with his free hand at the phantom pain of the knife searing into his flesh. Vessel startles, the arm on II's bicep going down to hold his hand gently out of instinct.
"Are you alright?" Vessel asks, desperate to know if II was okay despite just having met him.
Something within each of them was drawn to the other, small and unnoticeable as it was.
"I- I'm fine." II gasps out, shuddering violently, eyes going half-lidded as his vision is clouded with the sky he stared up at as he died, lost in the fear he felt,, the way the blood forced its way up his throat, burning like acid-
Vessel's hand in his brings him comfort, so he holds it tighter, hoping the other man doesn't mind. It helps ground him to the moment, walking through this silent forest with the first vessel of a God he knows next to nothing about. Vessel pauses, looking at their joined hands and up to where he knows his pulse should beat. Panic flares up like a flame in his chest, and Vessel rubs soothing circles into the palm of II's hand with his thumb to ignore it, push it down and away. II won't notice, lost as he is in his own mind, so it should be fine, Vessel assures himself desperately.
"I'm sorry." II starts as they continue walking as his shaking calms down, "I just remembered how I died... I was robbed, stabbed in the chest a couple times, I think."
Vessel strains to hear the other man as his voice goes down to a whisper, sad, with a hint of bitterness. "You never need to apologize to me for something like that. Its only natural to be haunted by your death."
II couldn't see it, but Vessel has averted his gaze, guilty eyes staring forlornly down at the fluffy cat he was holding. Nodding, assuming Vessel could see him, "How did-"
"I bled out." Vessel states, a certain unfeeling numbness to his voice that shocks II into silence.
The thumb still rubbing slow, gentle circles into his palm stills, righting itself in a proper hold, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you." II hurries to apologize, realizing that he shouldn't have asked.
"It's alright. I've had time to process and come to terms with it." Vessel lies, the guilt building up with every word.
Lying to II seems wrong, and Vessel hates that the words fell from his lips so easily. Though, Vessel supposes it isn't really a lie. Vessel has come to terms with his death, come to terms with his failure at ending his own life. This admittance lightens the guilt a bit, and Vessel breathes a little easier knowing he didn't truly lie to II.
When they reach the manor, the outside vines reach for Vessel as he passes over the threshold of the porch, the small area covered with the plants. II cannot see them, but he does feel them brush over his arm, can just barely see the outline of the manor looming above him. He's so tired, so quickly trusting of Vessel, that he doesn't even bother asking if they've arrived.
Vessel turns on the lights in the entrance hall, ducking his head momentarily as it burns his eyes, disguising it as setting down Elvira, and when he looks up, they get their first good look at each other.
Vessel's mask is startling upon first glance, but his eyes, pupiless blood red surrounded by pitch black sclera are beautiful though the eye holes are differing shapes and altogether difficult to see into. He's wearing a pair of plain black jeans with a black hoodie, the band name on it unfamiliar to II. His hair, a dark mess sitting wildly upon his head, curls around the edges of the mask and the underside of his jaw.
Vessel, taking II in, finally lets go of his hand, which he realizes is black as night. Both he and II miss the touch, neither really understanding why. II's mask sits perfectly over his nose, a piercing just barely visible under the cloth in his right nostril. The blue of his eyes are even more striking in the light. He is also much shorter than Vessel, a good few inches of height between them. His clothes are simple a t-shirt that shows off the tattoos on his arms and plain dark wash jeans, his shoes are chunky black boots and he has a multitude of silver chained necklaces of differing lengths dangling from around his neck.
They both look around the entrance hall awkwardly, suddenly realizing that they both had been staring intently at each other. Vessel decides to show II around the manor, and let him pick a room, all while explaining that they only have about twenty-one hours to get everything set up for II's transformation. Vessel warns him it will hurt greatly, but neither could've truly prepared for it.
All of the rooms are pretty bare, but II doesn't mind, Vessel explaining again but in further detail how the house had been empty of anything but dust, debris, and barely standing furniture. He listens intently as the first goes on to explain that the only lucky break they had was that each room had in-tact bed frames, a blessing from Sleep most likely.
Vessel hates how much he's speaking, sure in his belief that every word is grating on II's ears. The other man must be so annoyed with him by now. Once Vessel is done getting him settled in, he'll have to be as silent as the dead so as not to bother the Second.
II ends up picking the room closest to the upstairs sitting room, after only a brief glance into it. Elvira sits perched on the small windowsill, staring at the two men standing in the doorway. She meows once before hopping down to rub against II's leg and running off somewhere else. II laughs, and Vessel hangs on to the sound, the silence of the house dispersing with another person's presence.
The altar room is a quick affair, barren as it is. II reaches out to touch the sigil on the wall, and Vessel, leaning silently against the doorframe, shudders violently as the sensation slams into his own chest like a freight train. It wasn't painful, just- greatly uncomfortable.
Turning back around to look at the first, II manages to miss Vessel pulling himself together quickly as he gestures at the mostly bare table, "We'll need to get more candles and things for offerings. Incense maybe?"
"Yes, I figured we could get some things at the store. We should probably leave soon if we want to make it before the furniture store closes. I want to give you time to settle in before your transformation starts tomorrow." Vessel explains, eager to get II's curious eyes away from the sigil his heartbeat resides in, and II nods easily enough, understanding.
"Sure. We can head out now. I'm already feeling better than before, though I do have a headache coming on, I think." II smiles, but it falls into more of a grimace towards the end of his words.
Vessel winces, understanding entirely. The migraine he suffered before and during his transformation was the worst he had ever experienced, he is sure. He can imagine very well what II must be feeling.
With Vessel leading through the darkness with utter surety in the destination and II no longer as weak limbed as before, the walk back to Vessel's car is far quicker, merely an hour instead of the two or three it took the first time. They held hands again, for II's benefit, of course. Vessel wouldn't want the other man to stumble and twist an ankle.
It's as they get to the furniture store a while later that Vessel's anxiety rises to the surface whereas it had once been simmering just under his skin, growing steadily in strength with every mile passed.
Parking the car about halfway through the parking lot, Vessel shuts the car off and lets II begin to get out. The other man pauses, realizing Vessel wasn't coming with him.
"Are you not coming?" II asks.
Shaking his head almost rabidly,
"I can't go into a store like this. I can't, I'm sorry." Vessel pleads, eyes wide, anxiety swirling in his gut, just the thought of getting out of the car nearly too much to handle.
"Is it your eyes? The mask?" II inquires, worried now as Vessel's shaking becomes clear to him, white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel not hiding the tremor in his whole body.
Nodding, Vessel agrees, though to which one II isn't sure, so he assumes it is both. "Stores- I get- I couldn't go in by myself. Before you arrived. Sleep asked me to do all of this before you got here, but I- Fuck, fuck." Vessel's voice breaks off into a whisper, guilt eating away at his mind for even admitting this much.
II must think him pathetic, useless. All of his past partners did, his parents, and they all made sure he knew quite well. But Vessel couldn't help the way social situations made him feel like the ground was about to crumble away beneath his feet, like the entire world's eyes were on him at every moment, like everyone was laughing at him just for existing. He's fucking worthless. He can't even go into a fucking store by himself, and clearly not even with another person who is dressed almost as unusual as himself.
II, who has remained silent up until this point, trying to figure out a way to comfort Vessel, to reassure him, is kept from saying anything just yet when Vessel speaks again, and his voice is so quiet, so desperate, II's heart clenches in his chest, "Please, just- just get whatever you want. I, I can help load it on the car when you're done, I promise. I'm sorry."
"But don't you need a mattress too?"
Vessel can't bring his eyes to meet II's own, focusing instead on his hands before him. "I don't need sleep, not like you do. Sleep said so."
Frowning, putting that aside for later thought, II counters, "You still need rest Vessel, whether you sleep or not. The bed doesn't have to be just for sleeping. It's not like we have anywhere to sit right now, you need a proper bed."
Vessel winces, recognizing II's point and agreeing silently but unwilling, unable to say anything, his mouth filling with cotton. "I'll be keeping my mask on, and if anyone asks or says anything, I can answer for us. We'll say we're off to a costume party or something."
"Okay." Vessel agrees quietly, slipping the keys and card into his pocket before slowly opening up the driver door and getting out.
II walks over to his side and grabs his hand, tilting his head and gesturing with it in silent question. Nodding, Vessel licks his dry lips, each step forward feeling like a death march. Vessel woukd prefer killing himself again, he thinks, instead of being around complete strangers out in public. Especially like this.
The fluorescent lights inside the store immediately burn his eyes and Vessel cringes back, ducking his head and staring resolutely at the floor. Leading them forward, II asks quietly if he's alright. Vessel murmurs his affirmative, eyes clenched shut as a headache begins to ache right behind them.
His hands have gone numb and Vessel is glad for II holding one of them, keeping some sort of feeling in the appendage. He wonders if the other man is going to say anything about the full-body tremble he can surely feel, wonders if he'll take his hand back, shake him off, or tell him to 'stop that fucking shaking or else.' It wouldn't be new to Vessel.
II let's go of his hand only once the entire time to try out a mattress, gesturing with the other as a saleswoman comes up to them asking if they need any help. When he asks what Vessel would prefer, Vessel spirals. II's letting him choose?
II, noticing the accelerated, short breaths Vessel is taking, pulls them over to one of the dimmer sections of the store, though its hardly any darker. "Breathe, Vessel, its alright. Do you want me to just get the one I picked for both of us? I'm sorry, I didn't think your anxiety was this bad. I'd never have asked you to come in if I'd known. I thought it was just from what we were wearing, but clearly its not. I'm sorry."
II, desperately trying to comfort Vessel, takes both hands now and rubs over his palms gently, trying to soothe, to help. Vessel forces himself to nod, a few too many times, but II doesn't mind. "I'll be right back so we can get out of here. How am I paying?"
Vessel begins shaking his head back and forth as II lets go of his hands. On instinct, Vessel grabs the hem of II's shirt but jerks back away just as quickly, holding his arms close to his stomach in a protective manner. "I'm sorry. I'll go with you, just don't leave."
II's heart shatters at the desperation in Vessel's voice, how small he looks even as he towers over II. The man can see that the first Vessel is trying his best to take up as little space as possible, hunched over into himself. Glancing around, II realizes some of the workers are staring though they look away quickly when II catches them. "I won't leave, I promise. Let's get this done quickly, alright? Then we can leave."
Vessel hands over the credit card Sleep gave him, and when II takes it, Vessel looks back down to the floor, hands held close, keeping a close eye on II's boots to follow him. When the second vessel doesn't move after a moment, Vessel looks up. The corners of II's eyes are crinkled with the smile hidden mostly by his cloth mask, a hand held out in offering. Hesitantly, Vessel reaches out and takes it, marveling at the gesture despite it becoming somewhat familiar at this point.
While II talks to the saleswoman again and gets everything handled, Vessel is lost in his head, focusing on righting his breathing, on the feel of II's hand in his own, on the faint presence of Sleep in the back of his mind. Slowly, the numbness in his hands that had spread up his arms fades, his trembling slowing before stopping completely.
As the workers go to bring out the mattresses to the front of the store, II looks back at Vessel in concern. The other man has been silent, but II is glad his trembling has stopped and he's seemed to calm down. "Are you okay now?" II keeps his voice low, gentle and calm,
Vessel nods, still not meeting II's eyes and he frowns, worried. There's no way II can expect Vessel to go grocery shopping with him. "I'm sorry I made a scene."
"Oh, Vessel, you didn't make a scene. Its alright, you can't help when you have a panic attack. Its not your fault." II reassures, regretfully looking away when the workers bring out the mattresses.
"There's bungee chords in the back. We can tie down the mattresses that way." Vessel offers, rubbing over his wrist scarring and newer cuts absent-mindedly, the urge to add more growing.
They get out the bungee chords and attach the mattresses to the top of the car, it weighs it down quite a bit but thankfully not enough they can't drive anywhere. Vessel feels some of his deeper cuts reopen, but doesn't let his alarm show. He's wearing his hoodie, it'll be okay.
"We need to go to the grocery store still. I'll drive since I don't think you're in a good state to do do. My headache isn't too bad." II states when they're finished.
Vessel apologizes quickly, voice weak as he hands over the keys without question. He feels like utter shit. This trip was to get things for II so he'd have all he needed when he undergoes the transformation into a true vessel tomorrow. Its turned into him just comforting useless Vessel.
"Vessel, you don't have to keep apologizing to me for things like this. Its not your fault, and really, none of this bothers me."
Vessel nods, closing his eyes against II's burning gaze, fearing the man can tell that he is only agreeing to drop the issue. They get in the car and sit in silence while II drives further into town looking for a store that sells both food and other things. He explains that they may as well get sheets and pillows and groceries all in one go, do they can get back home faster. Vessel marvels at the way II can already call the manor home. Vessel isn't sure he's ever really had a home. A house, a place to sleep, sure, but a home? Never.
Vessel expects II to have him go into the store with him again, but is surprised when he declines and II only smiles and asks him if there was anything he wanted. "Thats alright, I'll pick out some new things for us to try then. I'll be right back."
Only when Vessel is sure II is gone does he let himself cry. Silent sobs shake his shoulders, small breaths are all he can manage and Vessel really just wants to hurt, but he refrains. He can wait until they get back to the house and get II's things set up. He can, he has to. Vessel doesnt even want to think about what II would say if he saw Vessel ripping into his own skin with his nails.
'I had a fucking panic attack after going into a furniture store! A furniture store!' Vessel thinks hysterically to himself, loathing beating away at his brain as his sharp nails dig into his thighs through his jeans. His masked forehead rests against the dash while he waits for II to come out. He feels terrible, like a burden. Worthless, no, even less than that. II is going to leave, without a doubt. If he doesn't, then surely he will ask Sleep to rid themselves of his presence. Vessel isn't that important, his God could easily find other vessels.
Sniffling, Vessel lifts his mask to wipe away tears, and sits in silence until II returns, around an hour later. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you wait so long." II says as he opens the drivers side back door, stuffing a multitude of bags inside that he seemingly carried out by himself.
"You're fine, did you get what all you wanted and needed?" Vessel asks, and hopes II doesn't notice about the voice crack.
"Yeah! Bedsheets, a few blankets, a first aid kid, a few shirts for me and hopefully a couple that'll fit you, and some other essentials like underwear and shit. Oh, and snacks, to go with all the healthy food you just bought us." II smiles.
"The card's from Sleep actually. Didn't have any of my own money. Money is inconsequential to Gods, so they just made that card for us to use."
"Ah, well, I think we just singlehandedly fucked up the economy with illegal, undocumented money." II laughs, and Vessel smiles at the sound, though it falls when II winces and holds a hand to his temple.
"I'll drive back, II, you rest. I'm sorry you had to do all this. I should be able to do these things."
"Alright, that's probably for the best. Are you feeling better now?" II asks, and his pretty blue eyes are so hopeful Vessel finds himself nodding in affirmation despite not feeling much better at all.
The corners of II's eyes crinkle even further, causing his eyes to squint like he can't quite see. It really is endearing, and Vessel finds himself smiling back though he knows II can't see it. They switch places in the car, and II goes through his cd's before picking a Whitney Houston album. 'I Wanna Dance With Somebody' starts playing over his radio, and Vessel's lip quirks up as II starts quietly humming along, tapping along with both his feet and hands to the drums, mimicking all the hand movements with ease, as though drumsticks were in his hands at that moment.
"Do you drum?" Vessel asks once the song is over.
Nodding as he answers, II replies. "Yes, I play the drums. Its one of the reasons Sleep chose me. Do you play anything?"
A blush rises to Vessel's cheeks, but he answers truthfully. "I sing, play guitar, bass, and piano."
"I can see why Sleep chose you then, if our method of worship is to be music. You must be talented." II smiles lightheartedly.
"Just a hardworker is all."
Vessel insists on carrying some of the groceries when they get back to the forest where the manor resides. II tries to protest, saying he has everything handled, but Vessel manages to get at least four bags while II takes the rest. II pouts, the jut of his lip barely visible under the mask, but it causes Vessel to laugh again, the smalle shaking of his shoulders and the near-silent huffs of laughter exactly what II was aiming for.
The walk back to the manor is shorter, a little bit more of the ice broken between them. II talks more than Vessel, but neither mind when silence strikes. When the manor comes into view, a single light left on in the entrance hall the only indicator II can see, he sighs in relief. Over time, his headache has grown increasingly worse. He could not set down the grocery bags fast enough.
"Just a bit more II, just gotta get your mattress back here."
"Okay." II's voice is quieter now, and Vessel is quickly growing worried.
He knows his God said they had twenty four hours, but they're already down to eighteen hours left and with every passing second, II looks a little bit worse. The trip back to the car for II's mattress is easy enough, its managing to get it back to the manor while II feels worse and worse that makes it difficult. By the time they manage it, II has to sit down by the footboard of his bed, back against the wall with his head tucked between his knees. Vessel turns the lights off in the house and begins making the other man's bed with whatever sheets he finds first. They're not washed but the package was completely unopened so it'll have to do.
Fluffing up a pillow or two, Vessel finishes with the bed and crouches before II. The second vessel doesn't lift his head, doesn't even move. "Hurts." He murmurs, and Vessel barely hears it.
"I know." Vessels voice is low, aimed to soothe, "Can I pick you up?"
II shakes his head, insisting he can get up to his bed himself, but when he gets to his feet, he sways, holding his palms to his eyes as the movement causes a sharp stab of pain that continues even after he manages to still. Vessel half leads, half carries II to bed and tucks him in under the covers. II is nearly asleep by then, head aching something fierce, but still, he reaches out blindly for Vessel, grabbing his hoodie hem as the man turns to leave. "Thank you. I'll see you in the morning?"
Vessel nods before realizing II can't see him before verbally responding. II falls asleep with a small, barely visible smile and Vessel sighs as he shuts the door behind himself.
That done, Vessel goes to put groceries away and sort through whatever else II got. Going through the shirts and figuring out which is likely his, putting the first aid kit in the downstairs bathroom, groceries in the cleaned out fridge. Its nice that Sleep at least made sure there was running water and electricity. It's quick work, and Vessel finds the silence in the absence of II to feel... well, wrong. So he hums, so quiet it barely stirs the air around him, but it helps all the same. Making his way through the house in search of II's cat to feed her, Vessel eventually finds her in the large empty room on the ground floor. Though, its no longer empty.
To one side of the room sits a beautiful but old grand piano, a light wooden color with a matching bench. To the other side of the room is a drumkit complete with a pair of drumsticks.
"Thank you, my God."
'Enjoy your gift, my vessel.' His Gods voice whispers in his mind before they are gone from his head, though their presence lingers as it usually does.
Sitting down at the piano, Vessel lets a single finger press the G note key, but it was so discordant after it rang through the room, Vessel couldn't help but wince. Vessel looks around the room and finds a tuning kit pretty easily, thanking Sleep once more, and gets to work. Its hours of work, and the sun is rising by the time he's done. He sits to play for maybe an hour or so before a knock on the doorframe causes him to slam a few keys all at once.
When Vessel turns, II is leaning on the doorframe holding his head with one hand, a pained smile beneath the mask. He stands right away, making it over to the other man in record time, and begins leading him back upstairs. "I'll make you something to eat, you just lay down."
II doesn't protest about all the care Vessel is showing, visibly in pain. The hours leading down to the beginning of II's transformation are long and drawn out, feeling like a timer ticking down to a bomb setting off. Vessel had warned II that the process would hurt, but he didn't truly realize how much it would affect him leading up to it. Vessel remembered being in pain before his as well, but its worse seeing II going through the same thing and being unable to do anything about it.
Thankfully, he's in bed when the transformation begins, Elvira laying by his feet. Vessel is with him, holding his hand and rubbing soothing circles into his palm worriedly. II is grateful, so grateful. Vessel could have just left him be in wait for the process to begin, but he's been fretting silently, an aura of worry stemming off his body so potently II could almost see it. II would try to reassure him if he could manage to speak past the pain, past the fire roaring through his blood, pounding away at his brain.
II is aware of everything, every change being made to his body and soul. He can feel something crawling over his itching, burning eyes, feel the way his Gods essence slowly takes over his lifeblood, transforming it into something more. Every atom is screaming as his soul changes to the whims of his God. He has no idea how much time has passed, it feels like its stretched out infinitely and yet mere seconds at the same time. It's torture. If II thought accepting his new God was painful, this is light-years worse. Nothing he has felt, in this life or the next, will ever compare to the sheer agony this process is wreaking upon his mind, body, and soul.
The only constant aside from the pain, is Vessel's touch, the calm of his voice. Vessel is so gentle, so apologetic as he removes the mask from II's head. He hums near silently as he wipes at II's sweaty forehead after putting him back on his back so he doesn't choke on the sludge that drips from his lips, its taste foul.
The only passing of time II is aware of is the position of the sun as it passes by his room. Vessel never turns the light on, so II relies on the bright rays, thankful the too-thin curtains have been pulled shut. It must've been at least a week now, in constant agony. II wants it to end, he needs it to stop, please Sleep, make it stop.
"Sleep, I don't understand why even asleep, he looks so pained. Is something wrong with his transformation?" Vessel asks, brow furrowed beneath his mask.
II wants to ask Sleep the same. Something has to be wrong for the process to feel like this. The voice of his God is far too loud as it echoes in the room, bringing nothing but more pain as it mingles with II's migraine.
"Nothing is wrong, my vessel. This was how your body reacted as well. The second vessel rests, but he is not asleep. You handled your transformation beautifully while awake, so I did the same to the second."
Vessel breathes out a shaky sigh of disbelieving horror, unaware of how II, conscious as he is while his body is still, knows he would do the same.
"Will it take as long as mine?" Vessel asks finally, after minutes in silence, through trembling lips, and II watches, unable to move and too in pain to really process at the time, as Vessel lifts his mask to wipe golden tears.
Golden tears. Vessel has tears of liquid gold, striking against the pale skin of his jaw and the blush pink of his lips, staining the other man's hands and clothes as he wipes them off on his jeans.
This isn't right. Vessel could easily justify letting himself suffer, he was used to pain. It's been a constant his entire life. But this man before him didn't deserve this, sleep should be his sanctuary during this process. Why won't his God just let II sleep? There has to be something Vessel can do- wait. Vessel makes a decision and calms his mind as much as he is able, needing to concentrate. There's a thin thread of something niggling at the back of his mind that's been there ever since his transformation. Reaching out a hand and laying it on II's sweaty forehead, the creases from pain ease under his touch. If Vessel could just- yes, just like that. Connect with II's consciousness and force him to sleep, properly sleep, instead of whatever this is that Sleep has put him under. There's an ache in his brows that wasn't there before, but he ignores it after chalking it up to the beginnings of a headache.
II's dry eyes move, eyelids shuttering before falling shut. Pain spikes through his head and Vessel winces, but when he unscrews his eyes from being shut, II has calmed. His forehead no longer creases in pain, his breathing just that small bit calmer. Vessel is glad. So glad.
Vessel lets himself rest, curling up at II's side, careful not to touch, while the other finally, finally sleeps. His mask and II's sits between them, and Vessel lets himself sob into one hand while the other holds II's. Fuck, he finally feels worth something. Even as his brow aches and the room spins and nausea rocks in his gut, Vessel keeps himself silent, something he does well. His shoulders shake minutely, and he sobs, but no sound leaves his lips but the barest hint of harsh breathing. When he is calm, Vessel thinks he may go write a song. But right now, he is so tired, and all he wants is to sleep but he physically can't. His body aches, and a headache pounds behind his eyes, a chill sweeping through his limbs.
Within hours, II is awake again, and Vessel can feel it. In the back of his mind, its like a light switch has turned on and that fuzzy bit of something comes into focus and then there is pain. Such agony that Vessel shoots up and back, knocking over both himself and the piano bench he had been sitting on. In seconds, he is up the stairs and in II's room, at his side, knowing without a doubt that it is his presence Vessel is feeling. With no small amount of effort, Vessel forces him back to sleep and breathes a sigh of relief at the peace that settles in II's mind, even as the headache that had finally went away begins to creep up on him again.
"Sleep, what's happened? Why can I- Why can I feel II's presence and his emotions? Its strange, and feels wrong, like- like an invasion of his privacy."
"I have bonded you to the Second in mind and soul. I thought you would like to be able to navigate your human emotions better if you could feel each others. Do you not like my gift?"
"N-no, its not th-" Vessel blanches at the hurt he can hear in his Gods voice, trying to explain himself quickly to lessen it.
"Fine then. I was to explain how to give you some modicum of privacy, as you humans seem to strive for that in desperation, but you are not thankful for my gift. You will figure it out for yourself."
"No! Wait, I beg of you, please- I'm-"
Sleep's presence is gone before Vessel can finish, "... sorry. Fuck."
Running to the altar room, Vessel takes the ritual knife he keeps by the plate and draws it vertically over his wrist. Blood spills onto the plate almost immediately, and whether Sleep makes their presence known or not, Vessel needs them to understand.
"I am thankful for your gift. I- I just- II doesn't need to be privy to how fucked up I am. He doesn't deserve to and... I'm scared. Of what he will think of me. This is- This was a very sudden gift, and you've already given me more than I deserve."
Sleep lets their presence be known, voice no longer as hurt as Vessel's blood continues to drip down his arm and splash onto the plate. It is faint, but Vessel is relieved they have come back at all.
"I have told you, my dearest vessel, that you are deserving of everything. I will not take back my gift, and in time, the other vessels will be bonded with you and the second in the same way. That is all I will say on the matter, now leave me to rest. I- I have overextended my powers to give you these things. When the time is right, I will ask for an offering, one not of your blood, but perhaps of the music you have made."
Vessel crumbles to his knees, clutching his arm to his chest. Affirming his Gods wishes, Sleep leaves him. These- all of these things- II, the piano, this bond, these things are gifts from his God. His God thought well enough of him to give him things without asking for anything more than worship in return, and only when they need it. Vessel couldn't be more grateful, as apprehensive as he is about this bond he and II have been struck with. He supposes he'll just have to figure out how to limit his emotions from traveling over to II's side. It can't be that hard, can it?
II is awake for even shorter periods of time over his transformation as Vessel learns to use this new power with more and more ease. With every use, the ache in his brow grows worse, little by little. Vessel grows adept at closing the door of his mind that leads out into a hall where II's resides. Its strange, to picture a hallways with doors in his own head, so it takes work, but Vessel gets it eventually. With practice, it becomes easier to manage.
In his waking moments, Vessel was there. II felt every careful touch, gentle caress, heard every kind word and encouragement. He heard Vessel cry and sob, out of pain or despair, II isn't sure. He just knows it breaks his heart every time. When he wakes and there is less pain than usual, II is struck with an emotion that he can tell immediately isn't his.
II has never felt such strong self-loathing, even at his worst. There is also this other presence in the back of his mind, much like how Sleep's lurks. Within seconds, that negative emotion is gone and replaced with terrifying calm and Vessel appears at his side. Was- was that Vessel's emotions?
"Its okay, you don't need to be so confused. I'll explain when your transformation is over. Go back to sleep, II." Vessel's hand is cold against II's too-warm forehead and if he could, II would lean into the touch but his body still won't obey him.
Sleep is a welcome thing as the brief reprieve from the pain ends almost as quickly as it started.
Finally, two weeks into his transformation, II wakes for the final time, feeling better than he had in what felt like forever. Vessel is nowhere to be seen, but II can hear the piano, which has been a near constant thing in his moments of consciousness, stop. There is relief in II's chest, even as he sits up and takes in the new state of his body.
His hands have turned the same deep black as Vessel's, up to the middle of his forearm where little tendrils of ink reach up towards his elbows. Instead of his usual nails, longer, sharp nails like claws lay. When II glances at his window, there is no light streaming through, and yet he can see perfectly. His mask lays beside him, but II leaves it off. He needs a damn shower, desperately.
"You're awake, for good this time." Vessel's voice is as relieved as II feels, breathy and hopeful.
II looks up at his doorway where Vessel stands, still as a statue with his arms held close to his stomach, and II realizes he can feel the relief in his mind as well where Vessel's presence has grown stronger.
II smiles at Vessel, and for a moment, Vessel is struck by just how beautiful the other man is. For the first time, Vessel can see his eyes crinkle and the way a single dimple appears, and awe floods the bond for a moment before it quiets to something smaller, less all-encompassing.
"I'm sorry." Vessel starts, then begins to explain about the bond, nervous and apprehensive.
II listens, nodding along, a bit concerned at the calm over the bond when clearly Vessel is not calm at all. Sleep has bonded them, made it so their emotions are apparent to each other when they wish it, and Vessel sounds scared.
"Alright, I'm fine with this."
"Y-You are?"
"Yeah, I've always believed in communicating what I'm feeling anyways. This will just make that easier. I understand if you don't want to do the same, and I'm completely fine with that. I'll just be an open book for you, you won't need to doubt my intentions." II smiles again, and Vessel is struck with the heavy need to cry again.
So little time spent with this man and he's been nicer, more considerate of Vessel, than most anyone ever has in his entire life. It's jarring, and Vessel doesn't know how to act around him, so Vessel decides to do as he would if II weren't so kind, as the safest option.
He'll isolate himself, hide away. Hide his emotions, his pain, keep to his room.
Its better this way.
If only II thought the same. If only Vessel didn't silently ache with the want to be loved that he breaks beneath it so easily.
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I am a guy. I was not trained how to dress myself growing up. My dad--bless his incompetent small-town soul--still can’t dress himself, so it’s not like any of that was being modelled for me. And I was homeschooled, so I didn’t have friends to emulate. Everything I learned about clothing I learned from watching television, and every choice I made was made fun of. But luckily, there’s a lot of media around about how to dress yourself, and clothing can be cheap if you’re willing to go looking. (and if you get 50% off at the thrift store you work at).
I was also not trained in home decorating.
Like, I see a lot of posts about how single men’s homes look, on average, like shit. And yeah. They do. Nobody could really argue that they don’t.
But what you learn with clothing is also applies to home decorating it is a language. There are regional dialects. There’s slang. There’s high and low formality. And learning that language takes time and effort, especially if you don’t have a teacher. Average men's fashion, like, off the rack mall stuff, is extremely homogenous, mainly because men don’t actually speak the language. They see something that looks good on someone else and they copy it. They know clothing phonetically. Not comprehensively.
But men's clothing literacy staggeringly outstrips the understanding most men have of home decorating. The term “Bachelor Pad” describes, for most men, their home during the only length of time where they live in a space which is not decorated primarily by their mother or partner. So it looks like garbage. (It is often also filled with actual garbage, but one issue at a time).
And like...it’s very easy to not be too sad about this. To frame this difference in literacy as further labour women must do for men.
I married someone with a literal fine arts degree, who could run circles around me on every component of composition, colour theory, ect. But she...cared what I thought. She asked me what colours I wanted in our house. She asked me what sort of spaces make me feel good. And when I didn’t know what words to use, she flipped her laptop around with pinterest and asked me to point. And then we found common ground, which ended up being dark academia.
I have never had a partner care enough to do this. Ever. My afab partners have always assumed that I had nothing to offer in terms of decorating the house. My wife told me that a vintage armchair I’d been hanging onto for years finally, finally made sense to her, because it looks terrible in an empty white room but it looks amazing by a fireplace. I’d bought it for 15 dollars. My taste wasn’t bad. I just had no concept of how to express it.
So rather than make the house her house and treat my input with disdain, she used her greater understanding of the language to glean what I liked, and then we built that together. Our house looks absolutely amazing, and I love it, and as a result of having that connection to it, I actually do a lot more housework and decorating projects. I watch tiktoks about Feng Shui and how to organize a space, I find cool old furniture at work and bring it home, i put up shelves for our cat to play on... because the result makes me feel like we have a lovely home. Our lovely home.
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"What the fuck do people expect you to say when they ask shit like "why are you mad"? The fuck do you mean why? Do you ask people why they're hungry? Or why it's raining? It's like weather to me, every day I wake up and look outside to see what kind of day it's going to be today. "
Maybe becuase some people don't see anger as an inevitability. To some people, anger comes as easily as hunger, and for others, it's as rare as snow in September.
hunger, anger, and rain are all different.
It rains becuase the clouds cannot hold all the water the ocean sends up to it. It is, in a way, the most natural of all.
Hunger is something physical. Almost every semi-evolved animal experiences it to some extent. It is one of our oldest evolutionary traits. In nature, if nothing urges us to consume, to take, then we ourselves would be consumed. Altruism was of little concern to our ancestors.
Although I am not sure how much different anger is, I know that it is harder to explain, and that, to me, makes it unique.
Anger was not absolutely necessary for life to go on. It was a byproduct of our evolving brains. I do not know if frogs or ameobas or crabs can be angry, but I know humans have many different ways of being mad. And I know we get mad at different things. I would not be as upset if somone asks why I'm mad, becuase I know there is usually a simple answer. It's usually the same as if somone asks me why I don't like the weather. I don't like the weather becuase it's too humid to do much. I don't like the rain becuase it's much too cold to enjoy. I'm mad becuase I got a papercut, and it hurts.
Then agian, usually when the causes for my anger are different then the ones I just mentioned, most people don't notice I'm upset. Maybe if I were more outwardly angry, I would know how you feel.
This is just my experience, though. We lead very different lives, and I don't mean to project my experiences onto you. I'm just basing this off my interactions with peers.
-engineer anon
I'd say anger and hunger are both about as old. If human emotions consist of the exact same chemical reactions in the brain as the ones animals have in the same situation, I think I could say that animals have feelings. Seagulls are all evil little cunts, but they mate for life and I have no doubt that the mating instinct that makes them want to settle down and spend a lifetime with the most evil, mean-spirited fuck of a seagull that they can find feels like true love.
Animals do feel anger. Try grabbing a kitten out of the litter of a mother cat who just decided you are not allowed to touch her babies. Anger predates humanity. What is uniquely human is being able to stop and contemplate why you're being angry. And get mad about just being pissed off for no fucking reason.
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Harvey Headcanons! ☕️🛩📚
He grew up in a decently wealthy household. He always had new clothes and a clean haircut, and he was often made fun of for it at school. He just wore whatever his mother picked out for him because he didn't know any better. He wasn't exactly encouraged to explore his personal style as a teenager, and it shows.
He has a very rocky relationship with his mother, who has always been controlling over his life (particularly his love life) and is the main reason for him becoming a doctor (she's also a major reason for his anxiety/insecurities). Harvey considered a variety of options when he accepted that he couldn’t be a pilot, but his mother practically forced him into the medical field. She still tends to project her dreams onto him.
His dad is just... there. He's the type of man that simply agrees with his wife, hardly sharing his own opinions or true emotions in an attempt to appear "manly." He was rather cold toward Harvey as a child and was typically busy with work (I believe he was the CEO of something), but they've grown closer as Harvey has gotten older.
His older sister Hannah is a lot like him, but a super hipster lesbian that’s a bit more on the adventurous side. Their mother is not supportive of her at all, and it’s something that infuriates him (he loves his sister to death). He takes her to a pride parade every year so that she feels loved and accepted by at least one member of her family. She lives in the city and they meet up often, usually on a monthly basis. They both love to read and often exchange books with each other once they've finished them. He considers her to be his best friend.
He played the violin growing up (his mother's idea). He was in orchestra all throughout school, though he was never very good. He enjoyed the music, but he didn't actually like playing very much, and he *hated* being on stage.
He loves dream pop. I just know that this little hipster man gets down to some Cocteau Twins, Lush, or Slowdive. I think he also probably likes The Smiths (they're so relatable to him), but he’s not really into any post-punk beyond that. I also think he likes 70s dad rock a little bit, stuff like Eagles and America- just the classics.
He isn’t really the type to get bored easily. He didn't have a large social circle growing up, so he learned to entertain himself. When he lived in the city he used to go to the movies by himself, and sometimes even to restaurants that he wanted to try. He is painfully lonely at the end of the day, but he does enjoy his own company.
He’s a cat person, 100%. Dogs tend to need too much attention and playtime for his liking. I imagine that his partner's cat loves to rub their head on his mustache and sit on his lap while he reads. I also imagine that they tend to knock his model plane parts onto the floor while he's building them. It annoys him, but he's very patient with his furry friend!
He isn't disturbed or scared by horror movies at all. He doesn't bat an eye, especially at gore- he has a stomach of steel from his days of working at the hospital. He enjoys watching them from time to time simply to critique the medical inaccuracies.
He secretly *loves* Hallmark Christmas movies. He watches them every year from the moment they start airing. He's an absolute sucker for cheesy romance. He cries during them sometimes if he's had a little too much wine.
Okay that was long and way too deep, I'm so incredibly sorry!
I'm just jotting these down as reference points for my fan fic tbh, I thought I'd post it though? Oof ya'll, please bear with me. I'm trying to be more creative in my daily life and this is just my way of forcing myself to actually do it.
#harvey stardew valley#sdv harvey#stardew harvey#stardew valley#sdv#god im a clown#but like#i love this mans and need to get it out#sorry yall
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Hello! I dont know if you do headcanon requests, but if you do, could we get some more of Viktor and his S/O bringing home random stray cats? I love cats and I'm currently trying to bribe the new neighborhood stray to come into my house to join the family <3 tysm
Omg yes! I've done headcanons for other fandoms in the past, so it's been a while but! I'll give it a try lol
Also good luck getting the kitty inside! I wish you the best!
Viktor x Reader (SFW)
-So the first cat you brought home was before you moved in together, a sad, tiny, black and white kitten that you named Pip. Pip is your first cat, and the only cat you have when you and Viktor start dating.
-Pip remains the only cat you have when you and Viktor move in together as well, which is probably good, because he's not used to sharing his living space with others. Pip is the perfect companion though, and she very quickly wins over you boyfriends' heart.
-And then you bring home another cat. A slightly pathetic, skinny, more-crust-than-fur, tabby.
-And Viktor is...not perturbed, exactly. Perplexed, maybe? As to why you chose this little thing of all the other cats on the street.
-But once you explain to him that 'the other cats are relatively healthy', and that 'this one probably wouldn't make it without intervention' his heart softens.
-Especially when he sees how diligent you are in caring for the poor creature; giving it warm baths with moisturizing soaps, carefully scrubbing away the fleas and scabs and lingering odor of sickness.
-It had been used to being on the street, fighting for every meal and always looking for somewhere safe to hunker down to rest; obviously it wouldn't trust people immediately. But when it did come around, Viktor had expected it to attach to you.
-So it's quite a surprise when the two of you are curled up near each other one evening, reading and working on various projects, and the cat suddenly jumps up onto Viktor's lap, curls up into a little loaf, and starts purring.
-You're unable to hide your smile, and Viktor decides to name the cat Bochník. (You laugh when you realize he's basically named the cat 'Loaf Of Bread')
-Bochník ends up being twice the cuddlebug that Pip is, and at first you worry that he'll be lonely when you and your partner are away at work, until you find the two cats curled up together, sleeping, and you realize that they'll be fine if they have each other.
-The third cat you bring home is not brought home by you.
-You arrive to work one morning, expecting to see Viktor and Jayce already nose-deep in blueprints and experiments. But instead you only find Jayce.
-You bid him good morning, and right as you're about to ask if Viktor had stepped out for a moment, he asks you if Viktor isn't feeling good.
-Anxiety squirms in your stomach. Viktor always left before you in the mornings, often heading out before you were even out of bed. But he always made sure to wish you a nice day, with a kiss or two on the cheek - and you distinctly remember waking at the feeling of his lips on your skin.
-You relay all this to Jayce, who also seems moderately worried at the sudden disappearance of his friend, but the both of you decide to wait for a bit. Something may have come up unexpectedly, and he could be attending to it...
-But when lunch rolls around, and there's still no sign of Viktor, you decide to head out. Jayce looks only slightly annoyed that you're jumping to conclusions so quickly, but you know Viktor; more than that, you know that he knows you.
-If something dire had come up, and he didn't show up, he knew that you'd worry - even if he needed to be somewhere, he would have sent a message letting you know. He wouldn't just disappear.
-So you ask around a little bit, tracing your steps all the way back to your shared home.
-You're surprised to find that he's already there, though. His shoes are on the rack, and his coat is on the hook. There's wood burning in the fire stove, and the dim light of a lamp casts long shadows down the hallway, and whispering?
-No, not quite whispering.
-You tiptoe down the main hall, closer to the light and closer to the sound, confused as all hell, only to find...Viktor?
-Viktor, with a bundle in his arms and a tiny bottle in his hand, talking quietly to whatever he had swaddled up-
-"Did you steal a child?" you ask him, very clearly starling him. You stare at each other with wide eyes for several moments.
-"Perhaps," he replies, "If you consider Pip and Bochník to be our children."
-Oh.
-Oh.
-You move quickly and quietly to his side, peering down at the curious little creature in his arms.
-A tiny white kitten, with a single splotch of orange around one eye, suckling happily on the end of the little bottle Viktor holds. So small, you doubt it's older than two or three weeks.
-"I heard her crying on the way to work this morning," he explains. "Someone had thrown her in a dumpster, as if she was...as if..."
-You quickly blink away tears at his implication, but you knew how cruel some people could be.
-You tilt your head slightly, and press a kiss to his temple, and another to his cheek. "How fortunate there are people like you in the world, then," you tell him, giving him one last kiss.
-Then you disappear into the kitchen to start making dinner, knowing full well that he wouldn't have taken his attention off the tiny cat throughout the day - not even to sustain himself.
-The cat grows quickly after that, always getting into mischief, and making a mess of the clean folded laundry you've yet to put away. Chasing shoelaces as you tie them, and hounding your other cats to play.
-You name her Lucky.
#viktor x reader#viktor arcane x reader#arcane x reader#viktor#headcanons#viktor headcanons#im rusty so please be gentle with me#this man deserves so many cats on his lap
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abt the dad au:
🏠💵🐱🫵(projecting)🧶😈?
abt barista by day, ninja by night:
😍🐱👹🍍(everyones)🍕?
abt mamas boys:
💵(not lee and dee cuz big mama yk)🫵(projecting)🔥🔬🦸?
ooh, multiple au question.
Dad Au:
🏠 - What's the lair like?
I picture it kinda like the pre-shredder lair and the post-show lair combined. like it's the same abandoned train car/sewer area, but they've expanded it and made it more their own. it's like an apartment building in the sewers with your brothers and their partners. where they have their own space but they also have shared spaces where they do things together if that makes sense.
💵 - How do your turtles make money?
the boys are adults,, they have,, jobs,,,
Raph has an actual job. he personally rebrands the Hidden City Police, and makes sure they're running things right, and he gets paid for his good work. Mona also works there, though she works her own investigative unit.
Leo works in Jax's shop, and was barely able to negotiate shared ownership.
Mikey,, probably does art commissions or something on the side, and teaches mystic stuff for a living.
and Donnie? a mystery. he probably sells his designs, his tech, does something to earn as much as he does. it even baffles his partner
🐱 - Do any of your characters have pets?
Jax has a "cat" he calls KeKe. April has Mayhem if he qualifies. The kids definitely want pets but the parents are like "no way, at some point you have to draw a line and decide "what am I going to deal with today?" not this."
🫵 - Who do you project onto the most?
I don't think I project onto any of these dudes, not in the Dad Au at least
🧶 - Does Raph knit?
no, because fuck knitting. he crochets baby blankets for the twins tho, and little socks he'll hold onto forever because he's sentimental like that. I think every so often he'll make something for one of the kids birthdays.
😈 - Is Mikey a little shit?
he's definitely the most likely to spur the kids on or join in on the fun, but I wouldn't call him a little shit.
Barista By Day, Ninja By Night (Human/ Coffeeshop Au):
😍 - Are there any romances?
does a separated Lou Jitsu and Big Mama count? maybe some background flirting, maybe some April/Casey or Caprisun, or Casey/Raph,
🐱 - Pets?
I think. they should have a shop cat. for the coffeeshop. because yes.
👹 - Are there yokai/supernaturals in this universe?
no yokai, but if mystic stuff counts as supernaturals, then yes.
🍍- Who likes pineapple on pizza?
Leo. Mikey likes anything on pizza, anything.
🍕- Favourite pizza toppings?
Leo is a Hawaiian Pizza stan. Donnie likes the classic peperoni, and sometimes a build your own where he makes his brothers either question his sanity or question why they never thought of it. Mikey likes anything- Donnie thinks he's gross for some of his combos. Raph likes a good Brooklyn style, but he's also all about the meat lovers.
Mama's Boys Au:
💵- How do your turtles make money?
Mikey and Raph rely on the mysterious amount of money Splinter has in a rainy day funds box, usually reserved for groceries. Other than that, they scavenge. April being the only human means she can get a job, so she occasionally picks the boys up something nice.
🫵 - Who do you project onto?
I might actually project onto a couple of these dudes. Lee being non-verbal is mostly taken from my experience being non-verbal, and his stims are things that I do. Dee I think I project a lot of my internal annoyance and irritation onto. I put a lot of my creativity and crechurness in Mikey too.
🔥- Is Leo accident prone?
Lee is very careful, he learned early in his life that being clumsy wouldn't get him far, but there are times when Dee catches him being a Silly Goose. He also is allowed in the kitchen, it's Dee who isn't.
🔬- Is Donnie only interested in tech?
Dee loves technology, but he was exposed to mystics first. His favourite part of being interested in both is learning and experimenting with combining the two which- doesn't always pan out. But hat's the fun of it.
🦸- Is Casey a Vigilante?
Casey is part of the Foot Clan to start. She has a change of heart and loyalties... eventually.
Thanks for the many many questions Breeze! <3
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Felix x reader
He surprises you for your birthday (light smut towards the end)
You and Felix had been dating for 3 years. Every moment with him was like a dream, he always made you feel comfortable around him. He was the only person you could see yourself with, and you felt so lucky that you got to see him EVERY DAY.
Or not.
A year has gone by without Felix, and you can't help but miss him more with each day that passes. He told you that he'd be back soon, or so he thought, but with his new job in modeling along with his boy group, more and more project plans get accepted across the world. Thus, making his stay longer than expected.
Today was like any other day. You got up in the morning, got ready, and went to work. You were a hairdresser for an entertainment company, which is how you ended up meeting Felix.
As soon as you got home, you couldn't help but feel exhausted. Not only from the stress at work, but...
You remembered that tomorrow was your birthday. The first one without Felix since you guys had gotten together.
You couldn't help but feel sad, but you tried not to be too down about it. You knew this oppurtunity meant a lot to Felix, and you respected his decision in choosing to go international.
You set down your stuff, and went to take a shower. The heat from the shower was kind of overwhelming, so after you felt kind of faint. You finished up in the bathroom, and head out to the living room.
You pull out your phone, only to see many missed calls from Felix. You quickly call him back, but on snapchat, hoping that you didn't miss anything important, or even worse, if it were an emergency...
He picks up the phone almost instantly.
"Felix?? Are you okay??"
You say, in a panicky tone. He slightly chuckles, and says
"Of course baby, why wouldn't I be? I was just calling you to tell you some exciting news."
You exhale, and say
"That's good, I was showering so I didn't know if something happened to you, I'm sorry. Well, what's the news?"
He's silent for a moment, as you can hear the sound of many people in the back.
"Felix? You there?"
There's still more noise of chatter in the back, when all of a sudden you hear a THUD, then the tone of someone hanging up.
You sigh, thinking that he must have been busy. You were kind of expecting a little message or something from him, it being your birthday and everything tomorrow.
You leave him a snap chat, saying
**You must be busy, so I wanted to say that I love you! Call me back when you can tonight, okay?**
It says that he's in the chat, but even after you wait 5 minutes, 10 minutes, 20 minutes...There's still no response. You feel uneasy, and kind of upset, so you decide to get up, get a glass of wine, and watch a movie in your living room.
It's not long after that you start to feel sleepy, so you decide to turn everything off and move to your room. You transfer the movie onto your TV, and decide to lay down and relax.
You find yourself constantly checking your phone, but still no reply from felix.
Is he purposely ignoring me..? But how did I upset him...
You can't help but continuously overthink it, so you decide to just put your phone down and go to bed. Your eyes start to water, so you constantly blink away the tears before you finally drift to sleep...
A little bit before the middle of the night, you notice the sound of your door opening. You don't open your eyes, but you think it's your cat, Mr, Dinkles, entering your room. You turn to lay on your other side, and slowly drift back to sleep, when...
"Surprise."
You hear a deep voice say. You instantly open your eyes, and it reveals felix, who's laying next to you, opening his arms, inviting a hug. Without a second going by, you push yourself into his arms. You can't help but squeal with you, as you say
"Felix!!! Oh my god, I thought you still had stuff to do at work, what are you doing here?-"
He takes one hand from your embrace and wipes you eye, seeing as they're red.
"Have you been crying..?"
He says, with a worried look on his face. You can tell by the tone in his voice as he says that, that he's a little upset.
"Oh, um."
You say looking down.
"Not too much, I was just worried that you were mad at me is all. But, I'm totally fine now..!"
You say, but then he pulls you into a deeper hug.
"I was never mad at you, I promise. I'm sorry I made you cry, and I'm sorry that I never responded."
You feel comfort in his words, and smile.
"It's okay, Felix. I know you've been busy, it's not bothering me anymore, I'm serious."
He sighs, but lets out a small chuckle.
"Actually, I was expecting you to be upset. You see, I was at the airport, trying to surprise you. I was going to ask you to come pick up someone I knew, but then my phone dropped. I tried to talk to you, but you weren't answering, so as soon as I looked at my phone screen, I realized it broke. I was really irritated.."
Your eyes widen slightly, then you can't help but laugh. Rather than a laugh, it as more of a...cackle.
Felix smirks, as he looks at you.
"What? You find this funny? Is my frustration amusing to you?"
He says, as he watches you laugh even more. He can't help but watch you, as your pretty face lights up with each moment you laugh. He puts a hand on your cheek, caressing it, as your laughs slowly but surely disappears.
You look him right in the eye, and give him a soft smile.
"You don't understand how much I missed you, your smile, your touch..."
He says, as he pulls his face close into mine. I give in to it, wrapping my arms around his neck, as he pulls me to be on top of his lap.
I passionately kiss him, as I feel his hands travel from my shoulders, to my hips, to my waist. My body shivers with excitement, as I let out small gasps between each kiss. I can tell he gets excited at this, because I can feel something bulging between his thighs.
He pauses, then looks at me, and says
"Hah...I'm sorry. I didn't think I'd be this excited about a kiss."
I let out a soft giggle, and say
"No need for apologies. I'll help you out a bit, yeah?"
you steadily get up from his lap, and move down towards the bottom of the bed. You tease his dick through his pants, as you slowly start to unzip them and pull it out.
"Hah...Y/N.."
He pants, looking down at me
"You're making me go crazy..."
you slowly put your mouth over the tip, circling your tongue around it, before you suddenly push it towards the back of your throat. He's pretty big, and by pretty big I mean HUMOUNGOUS. But, that doesn't stop you.
(You were DEFINTELY a throat goat.)
You can hear him let out grunts, pants, and low toned whimpers. You feel him coming closer, but you tease him by stopping when he's about to reach his climax.
"Ha-Hah...Huh? Y/N..."
His deep voice whines, as he looks at you.
"Please...don't tease me. I've been waiting so long..."
He looks down at you with a sweet but seductive look on his face, as he's begging you to let him finish. You give into that look, while letting him abruptly cum in your mouth. He's panting, and looking at you with eyes of lust.
You rub your eyes, indicating that you're tired.
"Shh...rest now."
He says, gently lifting you up to lay next to him.
"I wont leave you again, I can't handle being without you for that long..."
He gives you a little kiss on your forehead, as he quickly checks the time. It's 12:00. He smiles as he lays your head on his chest.
"Oh, and happy birthday."
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as a mercurial person, when I do have my bad moments, I can always rely on someone like my sister to call me tf out. she’s an Ashlesha girlie, and I think she’s amazing, despite her own flaws. we both believe being direct shows we care. calling out bullshit is our love language. we bicker a lot, which includes a lot of cussing. at first, it was hard accepting the truth because I get really defensive (that explains the stream of swear words lol). she gets more defensive, though—she reminds me of a cat hissing at others for intruding upon her space. I tease her about it cus I find it cute. despite our intense arguments, we still love each other immensely. we are each other’s biggest supporters! I am the oldest child, she’s the middle child. all her life, I’ve been very protective of her because she somehow is surrounded by negative energy. we grew up in a tense environment away from our community, so we also felt we didn’t fit in with our new surroundings growing up as we both experienced feelings of isolation. she has her Ashlesha placements in the 12th house, and I have my Jyeshta placements in the 12th house. I think our shared experience strengthened our bond as the years went on. she went through so much, same as I. when I read your post that mentioned Ashlesha Naks and their life struggles, it mirrored my sister’s origin and upbringing. I couldn’t fathom why the people she meets in every phase of her life would take advantage of her and/or project their misery onto her. that wasn’t until I learned about Ashlesha Naks, I fear. ig her relationship with our mom helps explain why, too… anyways, I may be protective of my sister but I also encourage her to go after her goals and fight for what she wants. and she knows this, too, and would encourage the same for me. she doesn’t hold back, and I don’t either. I know it’s good to have that kind of person in my life to rein me in AND to let loose with. however, I know I can’t rely only on her to save me from my flaws, of course. to my fellow mercury folks- let’s not deny that we are far from perfect. hell, I know I’m not perfect myself. I acknowledge that I have intense energy that’s similar to a repellent. life experience and being raised by a distrustful immigrant father assisted in helping me build this wall that surrounds my soul as a safety measure. I’ve been ostracized and bullied when I was a little girl. I was a sweet kid, but those experiences molded me into a person that feared the world, and as I grew up, I resented it for its restrictions. I was jealous of my peers and remained a recluse. it took me a long time to realize I was in control of the outcome of my own nature. I am in control of learning to outgrow my negative mindset and to be open to understanding. what started my growth was my spiritual inclinations that lead me to learning about astrology and such, and they unraveled the truth I’ve been blinded to for so long (besides my sister’s call-outs lmao). Vedic astrology helped me understand what it meant to be a Jyeshta Nak person. I’m not proud of my flaws, but they are there; I just have to learn how to remedy them and grow for the better. I will forever be on that journey. I just pray I don’t reverse the self evolution with self sabotage. I rather not be a wannabe Trump… no thank you 🙏 people are complex, so why paint ourselves as saints when we are not? what makes y’all think we’re the divine exception to the laws of nature? we are here to live this life and to learn from it. and if you make mistakes? own up to them. it’s easier said than done, but it’s much more rewarding to find ways to transform yourself into a more evolved human being. see your own shadow for what it is. you can’t suppress it because it will only shroud you with its darkness. once you start harming others, you are only digging a deeper hole for yourself. living in delusion and in denial is not healthy. and if you refuse to acknowledge that, then I wish you good luck in trying to crawl yourself out from your self made abyss of a grave 🫡
thanks for sharing your experiences 💛💛
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PLEASE tell about your idealized version of capullo riddler! I’m starving to hear more about him
ok i moved this up the queue because i am OBSESSED with him like i love him and i love you BUT ANYWAY i reserve the right to be as unhinged about this man as i want to be. every other riddler has his pros, but this asshole has only cons and that's why he's top of my list so like please don't read this if you're gonna psychoanalyse me, i am at peace with my issues (can't wait to show this to my therapist)
Headcanons about Capullo!Riddler (w/female partner)
request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi
minors DNI!! 🔞 cw for nsfw stuff, heavy on the kinks, rough play, impact, slapping, choking, humiliation, degradation all that nasty shit i am projecting it onto this sideburned loser who i love with all of my soul nobody come at me for how i want to be treated at him
domestic life
you're not so much a partner as you are a live in servant
your name is babe now
"babe will you get me a beer"
"babe will you pass me the remote"
"babe can you order us pizza?"
"babe can you come sit in my lap"
unintentional misogyny is rife
better invest in thick pants or something because anytime you walk by him your ass is getting smacked
needs you to tell him how talented and smart and handsome and charming he is at least 20 times each day
his needs have to come first because "i'm the riddler and i'm super important you wouldn't understand"
has to be talked down from asking every hot person you see if they wanna have a threesome with you guys
pisses with the door open constantly
follows you around like a lost puppy because he needs attention/closeness/not to be alone with his thoughts
he won't cook or clean or do any kind of domestic chore because that's your job because what else are you bringing to the table
he will make fun of you for participating in hobbies he thinks are dumb
but god help you if you imply at any point that his obsession with batman is unhealthy and really dorky and bordering on a crush
he will go in a huff
he goes in huffs a lot
man is permanently pouting and upset
definition of 'can dish it out but can't take it'
he has two modes for asking you to pay attention to him
demanding and rude
whiny and pathetic
sometimes he switches between both
if he thinks he's ever crossed a line and really pissed you off (which is rare) he will try to make it up to you
but he's shitty at it
he'll bump his head against you like a cat repeating "i'm sorry" until you're so annoyed that you forgive him to get him to shut up
he thinks burps are super funny because mentally he's fuckin 12
sex life
he's super horny, like all the time, concerningly so
like if you don't have the energy to fuck, you could at least sit in his lap and participate in some cock-warming, god
he'll eat pussy once a month, but he expects his dick to be sucked twice daily
he's super into dishing out some humiliation and degrading his partner
gives him an ego boost
because he's super self-conscious
mostly about his dick size
loves being a bit physically violent during sex
hair pulling, face slapping, grabbing and biting
spanking for sure
likes being called daddy/master/sir
anything that denotes him as an authority figure
surprisingly encouraging though
will dole out some praise if he thinks you deserve it
never says you're beautiful or pretty or gorgeous
but tells you you're hot all the time
super into free use, since you're there y'know
that's really all you're good for to him
will fuck you until he cums and not even check to see if you finished
rolls over and falls asleep straight away
he also snores
insists on getting nudes sent from you if he's away from you for an hour
boasts about how good he is at fucking in front of everyone and anyone
and you have to agree
which you do
and it's the only time he ever says thank you
but only in private
#finnie writes#riddler#batman#riddler imagine#friends being friends#zero year riddler#zero year!riddler#capullo riddler#capullo!riddler
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Grief
Summary: Steve's grandad dies. He deals
Here's a few hundred words of how I'm feeling projected onto Steve cause that was the name my hands typed first. Now if anyone knows where I can find a party to do the ending for me, I've no clue if that'd help or not
/\/\
Steve wants to process it.
A loved one is dead, and he wants to process it: to scream and cry, to beat up cushions and complain about injustice, to thank someone their pain is over.
He wants to process it.
Except his mind is numb.
Maybe that's the depression in the 5 stages of grief. He doesn't know, probably heard about them sometime, depression, bargaining, anger, acceptance, and some fifth one that he can't think of.
He wants to process, to feel his emotions and feel like there's a reason for him hiding from it all... denial. That's the fifth one, is that what this is? Denying that he's gone, that anyone died and there'll be a face missing at the next gathering.
Denying that the next gathering will be a funeral.
Fuck, maybe the numbness was right, because Steve can't sit here crying. There's no-one awake to talk to, and just a cat behind him. And cats don't like being clung to while their human's break down, no matter how clingy they can be.
The piano won't be played any more. No more can there be visits to that garden that carried on forever, or someone with a book for everything. Fuck, let's be real, Dad does try to have that, and usually fails now. Even managed to prove one of those 'the answer is in this one' books was outdated.
We're the grandchildren, there's nothing for us to be doing. It's the children that sort the will out, deal with things like death certificates, funeral arrangements, and the helplessness doesn't help.
Thoughts echoed, and Steve wondered if his friends would be able to help, if talking to Robin, Eddie, Dustin, any of the party, would make them make sense. He doubted it; nobody can feel someone elses emotions for them and talking would be better with his family.
If his family was actually there at all. They were distant as much as Steve like to imagine they were close. He thought every family living in different cities was the same, rarely in touch but close the times they saw each other. His was just a bit more extreme than that, because his parents were the same level as the rest of his relatives.
With how busy the party tended to keep him, it almost shocked Steve that he'd been home to take that call, but early mornings were one time he could be guaranteed to be home.
He broken down then, continued crying when trying to talk about it for an hour after, and then the numbness began. At least it hadn't begun when he was calling Family Video, telling them he wouldn't be in, needed to sort things out. Robin would've called nonsense or insisted on helping talk it through more. He was sort of glad she wasn't the one he had to call.
Knocking told Steve he'd disappeared long enough to concern the party. At a guess it was probably Hopper, the knocking was too heavy and controlled to be any of the kids.
“I'm fine. You don't need to do a wellness check.” He recited, opening the door, before staring at not just Hopper but everyone in the party.
“The fact you said that without greeting me says I do. What's going on?” Hopper huffed, inviting himself and everyone else in when Steve went to shut the door on them.
He stared again before shrugging. “Grandad's dead. I needed some processing time.”
“Sad movie collection then.” Robin declared, clapping once and gesturing to the living room for the kids to file through. “We had a few collections of things to help with whatever situation might be here.”
“Yup. You can mope, but doing it alone is forbidden.” Dustin agreed, hurrying back to them the bag he'd brought in still in his hands. “When did you get a cat? Why haven't I met them before? And where are your snack bowls now? You've moved them.”
“Cupboard left of the one under the sink, and a month or so back but she tends to hide from people.” Steve answered on automatic. If he felt numb before now all he could feel was bewilderment.
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Yknow what more Morro headcanons while I'm at it specifically in relation to my Morro lives au
Ed and Edna absolutely adopt him. Jay brings this sad lil ghost teenager with him one time when he swings by the junk yard and their parental instincts immediately kick in. They send him little gifts all the time, doesn't even have to be a special occasion they just do. Lots of super comfy clothes and little trinkets and his favorite snacks (even tho ghosts technically dont need to eat, but im pretty sure they still can if they want? Idk i remember Cole eating a cake in skybound but maybe hes just special) and just anything they think he'd like. Morro absolutely adores Ed and Edna and all their little gifts even if he won't admit it at first and he DEFINITELY didn't tear a bit after the first time they started smothering him SHUT UP JAY
Which leads into my next headcanon that ghosts can still cry >:) they learn not to pretty quickly tho because when they cry it'll still burn them BUT Morro starts to cry again occasionally after he joins the ninja just like when he gets really emotional. Cuz he's not used to being cared about and loved like that. It's usually not a lot or for very long tho but it's still a Problem. Because everytime he cries it still burns him, which obviously hurts, and then he tends to start hyperventilating and dissolves into a mini panic attack whilst desperately trying to force himself to stop crying. And at this point he's pretty good at getting his tears to stop quickly but it's still an unpleasant experience. (The ghost crying headcanon came from a post I saw somewhere about it and how the dark marks around their eyes could be scars from the tear burns or something idk).
Morro takes a liking to all things electronic. He loves video games (even if he's not always good at them) and just find all things mechanical really intriguing and fun to learn about. And like he's not an expert or a natural with that kinda stuff necessarily (I imagine him being fairly mediocre with it all) but he still really enjoys it and is always getting Jay/Nya/Pixal/Zane to teach new stuff. (And before he was comfortable enough to ask he'd just kinda hover in the background all the time). He could sit for hours and listen to them talk about it or watch them work on stuff. He loves tinkering with simple little things.
He's a cat
He also loves cats and will stop to pet them at every opportunity. Even mid mission. The others rarely have the heart to stop him even when it's really inconvenient because it makes him happy. Sometimes tho they'll be in the middle of chasing bad guys and Morro will stop to pet a cat and they don't even notice until after the fact when they realize he's missing. And then they have to go find him. (Am I just projecting onto Morro at this point? Maybe but you can't tell me he isn't a cat person.)
Cats also love him, even when he's still a ghost.
#i might add more later as i think of them#ninjago#morro ninjago#morro lives au#cradle talks#cradle's fics
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