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eldritch-spouse · 9 months

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Prevarication

[Reader can be assumed neutral.]

TW: Body image issues; Yandere.

Hudd sits quietly in your vacant room.

He's not meant to be here, of course.

He has better things to do, now more than ever. This is utterly beneath him, every aspect of it.

In fact, ever since he met you, the historian has been tumbling down a flight of endless stairs leading him to an abyss of ruthless indignity. Truly, the demonoid believes that, if he doesn't miraculously find his footing amidst each painful tumble, it will only end with his pride shattered in a million microscopic pieces.

What's left of it anyway…

Hudsyn knew he didn't have much to begin with by the time he approached you. Because who even approaches a human for help? They're such helpless creatures on their own, almost entirely devoid of use in most situations. Stupid. Pointless. Active sophists, denialists, mendacious, perverters of truth-

It was a fool's gamble.

And Hudd tried before, past the wounds of people calling him insane at every turn, he tried to keep his chin up and hope that someone of minimal value would open their eyes, come to see that he pursues nothing but the most noble of goals.

Hope is fleeting however. He supposes he was also bankrupt on that by the time he had ventured to the surface. The surface… As much as it is filled with wondrous sites to explore, it's also deeply bothersome with its intense daylight. Days in Hell are a lot less visually stressful. Probably because there's no standard sun around the annexes, only magical imitations of a day cycle- Meaning the light Perdition inhabitants are exposed to is a lot less intense than raw sun rays. Past the shock of it, Hudsyn has to keep an even closer look on his robes, because it's hard to project facial features when a more potent source of light drowns out his own.

And, frankly, he looks garish enough, the last thing the demon needs is to look totally faceless to strangers.

Nevertheless, in retrospect, if Hudd had to guess what led him to you, it was probably a combo of hopelessness, physical stress, lack of self-respect… And, naturally, your vapid musing out loud.

He wanted to believe, desperately, for a second, that someone actually gave half as much of a shit as he did. In that moment, it didn't matter if you were human, demon, gargoyle- Fuck, you could have been a barely strung together ghoul, he would have still sprinted and sat beside you like a fumbling buffoon.

He regrets that day so much.

For fuck's sake, he's talking about it like it happened years ago when it hasn't even been a measly week… So why does it feel like Hudd's known you forever?

Sure, you said a few weird things to him that kind of put the historian at edge, you're a little weirdo, he has to concede, but you're what he's been desperately craving for all this time. A pair of functioning ears with a decently working brain between them- Someone who respects him! Who cares, who's minimally knowledgeable, critical of everything that's taken as gospel or, at the very least, willing to learn better. Willing to understand that his time is valuable and his findings even more so.

You're a gem.

Hudsyn knows he disappeared on you the day you met. And even if what you did weirded him out, on its own it wouldn't be enough to make him leave. He's seen weirder people with much less harmless quirks. No, he was nervous then. Anxious. He needed to leave sooner or later, because there was too much on his mind.

There's always too much on his mind.

But that was a different type of information. One Hudd couldn't neatly file away in organized categories, picking and plucking and flipping at it to crack secrets out. That was personal, deep, hit him in places he didn't really know how to handle. It was chaos. You made him feel chaotic, impulsive and intense in ways that had exactly zero in common with the hysteria he can sometimes fall into in the midst of his work.

It took mountains of effort for the demonoid not to reach out and touch you. In fact, he had been trying to put space between you all that time to keep himself grounded, even when you seemed receptive to more contact, when you tried to start flirting, for whatever reason. Why would you flirt with him? In truth, Hudsyn just wanted to feel your hair. He wanted to touch your cheek and place your hand in yours. It's small. You're small. Small enough to hold, he's sure of it. He would have liked to. Maybe kiss you. His mouth… Well, you wouldn't enjoy it.

Point is, you remind him of how lonely he is. Sure, better alone than with bad company, but now that he's met someone whose company is not just tolerable but enjoyable, he doesn't really want to be apart from you anymore. It's depressing.

Hudd knew what was happening to him by the time he got over his own shaking to seek you out again. He had deviated from his work just to speak with that little human again… He knew, he knew he was falling into something destructive- But he also had to, because if the demonoid didn't, then he'd just be thinking about you day and night in a rut, brain muddled and knotting itself into a ball.

He doesn't regret it.

You were… So nice to him.

Offered him tea.

Said his eyes were pretty. You idiot, they're hardly eyes to begin with.

Said he was well-spoken.

Said he was cultured.

That you could listen to him for a whole day.

And his heart just fluttered so incredibly hard that Hudd could feel his fur stand on end. It wasn't the only thing that wanted to stand, given your choice of wardrobe, but that's beyond the matter.

Was that a date? Was that your first date? Sure, Hudsyn invited himself into your living space, but you reacted so well, you looked at him so enraptured by his speech… That was a date. Some kind of date. And it went very well. Enough so that he can feel himself smiling at the thought of repeating the experience.

He hopes you smile at the concept too.

As memories flood him, the historian feels himself shiver again. It's more of a rattle, the short fur on his form bristling with the sincerity of his emotions. Hudd wonders if you'd ever willingly invite him into your bedroom, or if he's just continuing to poke where he doesn't belong. He's always been good at that.

How different would that bizarre night have been if he had gotten over his own trance and said something bolder? If you had taken him by the hand, or even the horns, and led him to your bed? Which he coincidentally sits upon now.

Would you say you wanted him?

Maybe it's far-fetched, but Hudsyn likes to imagine you would. After all the rules he's broken and the punishments be carries, Hudd desperately wants to think you'd look at his body and call it beautiful. The same way you described his eyes. Or, at the very least, that you'd look past his blemishes and accept his affections.

He's not pretty like you.

He did look good before, but those days are gone, shelved, covered in dust and cobwebs and all the resentment his heart can hold- He hates beauty in others.

But it's tolerable in you. Because your beauty is the perfect type. The natural one. It shows in all parts of your human figure and he's sure the envious must burn to a crisp at the sight of you, the ones that can decipher that perfection for what it really is.

Hudsyn gets images of you sprawled on this very same bed, your hair disheveled and the same pajamas you wore that night slipping away from your soft skin. You don't care that it's revealing, don't care that you're teasing him, you're just that comfortable. He sees his own pale, bleached hands dragging the fabric down further, greedy for more- And his imagination is so vivid he swears he feels the heat of your skin on his knuckles, the pliant molding of your body as you stretch lazily and part your legs, giving him a view that-

Hudd groans.

His robes shift, and the fantasy dies immediately.

Because if you can't get over his blemishes then you'll certainly never come to accept his genitals. Just feeling his exterior protrusions -He doesn't know what to call them, they're not claspers or tendrils, but they move and swell- Pulse is a painful reminder that he's packing something very weird, and not just by human standards. You wouldn't want that. But that doesn't mean he can't fool himself.

By the time he feels his cock unfurl and poking at the top of his slit, the demonoid huffs, resigning himself to his self-inflicted predicament and lifting his robes out of the way. His dick emerges faster than ever before, probably because he's been in a dry spell for way too long- He likes to keep track of things, but as the years passed, Hudsyn grew a little too embarrassed to keep doing so in this regard.

It's a dark grayish member that curves firmly upwards, thin but long enough to make some men jealous. Hudd pulses, it's not a throb, he can see his own member contract and dilate as if he's going to lay something. But Hudsyn doesn't lay eggs. Maybe he was meant to, and something went wrong, he's not sure. He doesn't care. Beneath his strangely flexible dick, his clit perks and his pussy clenches, starting to make a mess of your sheets.

Yeah, a human might say he's uh- Kinda fucky.

Beyond his own self-awareness, the historian entertains the idea that you might, by a small miracle, react positively to his package. That you'd reach out, on your knees -Because really, that's a human's place in the end. Since the dawn of time, your race has been nothing but a toy- And use your mouth to show your appreciation towards Hudd. Because his time is valuable, and you're a generous little human, aren't you?

What part of him would you want first?

Maybe you'd go for his cock, he hums while looping a hand over his own length, tugging it leisurely from root to tapered tip, imagining it's your small hand, that you'd tongue at his end and try to take him into your throat- Failing, naturally. He's too much for most, but you'd keep attempting anyway, gagging and drooling viscerally, just to please him. Hudsyn shudders, panting in the quiet of your room.

Or, perhaps, you'd service his cunt. It's been so long since he's had anything inside him, your sweet tongue would do just fine, your fingers, your perfect unblemished digits curling into all those wonderful spots while you suck his clit and pump his cock and pop back just to moan how happy you are that he gave you the time of day-

Hudsyn makes a raspy croak of pleasure, arching on your bed like a slut in heat, eyes closed, one hand fisting his shaft furiously and the other filling his pussy. Who is he fucking kidding anymore? You could bend him over in two, he might almost beg for more.

It should be him thanking you.

For listening to him.

Finding him interesting.

Letting him converse with you even when he invaded your home.

Hudd needs to thank you for making sure his pride doesn't wilt completely. Beyond all his denial, all his mixed feelings, he knows that to be the truth.

He feels accomplished around you. Apt. Intelligent.

Wanted.

And fuck, he wants you ten times more. He wants his sweet mentee right at his side. Forever.

The image of you mouthing a tender "I love you" against his soaked cunt and moving up to kiss his length, lacing your hand with his, hits Hudd like lightning.

He doesn't know what shape he's contorting into, horns tearing into your poor sheets and that stump of a tail swatting around as his thighs flex and he orgasms harder than he could ever expect, snarling.

Thankfully, most of the monster's cum falls on his own stomach and robes, this pearly white mess that's going to matt his fur if he doesn't take care of it soon. Still, all Hudd's worried about is riding out the last of his high, fingers still pumping and dick twitching, oozing.

When Hudsyn's minimally coherent, he can only bask in his own shame, clarity chiding him. Mild panic rises in the demonoid's chest when he notices the very suspicious wet spots on your bed.

Fuck.

Now what?

The sound of keys turning has the historian almost squealing in distress.

Hudd jumps off your bed, still exposed and dripping and trembling with aftershocks. He strips his robes fully, crumples them into a gross ball, then throws them out your window.

Just before you can push the door to your bedroom open, he whimpers and vanishes into thin air.

…

It smells kinda funny in here.

#Hudd oc #pinnie's art #yandere monster #yandere teratophilia #terato #terat0philliac #monsterfucker #monster boyfriend #not sfw #nsft #minors dni

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echo · 2 months

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this is a response to @anarcho-yorpism's tag for me in this post. i'm not directly rbing bc that post is long and it has a lot going on in the notes.

anyway please note all of my responses here are my own, and not representative of Staff or tumblr. i am not T&S and have zero power to make any moderation decisions here.

with that disclaimer:

Predstrogen received a message from Tumblr saying she was banned for "sexual content". If she was not, why was she told this, why were her transition photos removed, and why has she still not been told the actual reason? (I understand not making it public, but it is your policy to tell the user) If she was, what was this sexual content, if not her transition timeline?

i can't really directly answer this for few reasons. firstly, i feel that staff shouldn't talk about her anymore bc i feel this continued controversy will only attract more harassment for her on other platforms.

secondly, as a low-level staffer talking about moderation decisions can get me, y'know, fired. i'd prefer not to do that.

also just like... i want to avoid getting into a narrative of "well she did bad things so she deserves it" or whatever. idc if she broke the rules or not, she didn't deserve what happened.

i know this isn't terribly satisfying to hear, but i'd like to be honest about why i'm not saying more at least.

If you can't answerblegal questions, ignore this question: The NYCLU settlement agreed that Tumblr would fix its moderation so it targeted transfem users less. Why has there been no comment on the settlement and actions taken since? There could genuinely be a large legal case against Tumblr after this, and I love this site and don't want that to happen. Also, wasn't it illegal under GDPR to release her usernames?

i'm not able to answer legal questions. i don't know the exact text of the agreement, but it mostly boiled down to some training and stuff from my personal experience there.

however not as a staffer but as NYC trans human: i would not put a ton of faith in the NYCCHR. they have some noble goals but they are a chronically underfunded city agency that in practice does very little to curb real-world violence against marginalized people. i tried to use them myself when my landlord was kicking me out right after i had surgery and they didn't even get back to me until months after everything resolved. nobody i know in the community out here has been helped by them off the top of my head.

i have sincere doubts in relying on the state to help people here.

A lot of transfem users don't like vague language like "prioritize", especially given point 2 and Matt's statement that improving moderation was not on the agenda. I understand you can't reveal company secrets in an already risky post, but we would like to see the specific actions taken after this, given a lot of broken trust by what @\photomatt has said. Are any of the trans women banned recently for "sexual content" going to have their accounts restored?

i don't know. i'm pushing internally for at least a review of everyone suspended to see if the less egregious stuff can be reversed. but like i said, i don't have a ton of power as i'm not in charge of anything.

and yeah, "prioritize" is vague corpo-speak. i know some stuff is shifting internally and what we said does match what is happening inside. but also... i've been disappointed before.

i can say i'm tentatively optimistic. people are responding seriously, and being asked our opinions for once is pretty nice. but also, systemic stuff is hard. i trust in my fellow workers and i'll continue to fight until i can't anymore.

so... yeah. i genuinely wish i can be more informative here, but what we wrote (and i want to emphasize we here, it was not just me by any stretch!!) is what we can say in an official capacity.

i'm just frustrated, tired, angry, depressed... and also weirdly hopeful?

#me #asks #staff info

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prince-liest · 3 months

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Omg, I just wanted to say I ADORE your characterization of Al and Vox! I don't even have the words to express how much I love reading your stuff, especially the Anon responses you post on here. The behind the scenes thoughts are literally my food, lifesource, its so good when people not only write characters IN CHARACTER, but also include stuff about their analysis/understanding of the character too.. I'm literally obsessed with breaking down characters and yk, cracking their chrome domes open to see how they work (which admittedly, I am not the best at <_< but I love reading them). Just wanted to say how much I love your writing. I had maybe 2 questions, please don't feel pressured to answer them :>

What in your mind (in reference to the 66.6 fics) would motivate Alastor to let Val get close to him in the first place? Or was that more you picking these two characters up by the scruff of their necks and plopping them into a hypothetical scenario to explore their character and write some fun intimate thingsTM?

What do you think of the dynamic of Vox and Al vs something like Lucifer and Al? Personally I've noticed that something Alastor craves, behind the mask of his static smiling persona, is attention. He's (at least how I saw it) usually peeved when people don't care about his absence, and seems especially bothered by the King of Hell refusing to really acknowledge him, so he goes out of his way to push Lucifers buttons (like calling himself a father figure to Charlie, IN FRONT OF HER ACTUAL FATHER LOL) whereas with Vox, Vox is literally CONSTANTLY thinking about Alastor. Man literally interrupted his regular TV program to do a segment about how much he totally didn't at ALL care about Alastors dissapearance or the fact that he returned (suree buddy). So Alastor can have more fun with him and annoy him by ignoring and messing with him on purpose.

ty if you do respond to this, sorry if it was hard to understand, sometimes I forget how to put the thoughts in my brain into coherent words!

Ahhhh, thank you very much, anon! I'm especially happy that you're enjoying my commentary on Tumblr, haha - I spent a while on Twitter because that's where all the fandom zines I was in were being hosted, but nothing beats Tumblr for giving me a nigh-unlimited word count and a captive audience for my rambling! >:D <3 I'm back to cocooning myself on the OG hell site.

Thank you for this ask, it really brightened my day! :D

As for your questions:

1. I'm assuming that was a typo and that you mean Vox (but in case you did mean Val: that was just a funny accident of him walking by the room! Alastor wasn't paying enough attention until it was too late), and to that I say:

I think Alastor allows Vox to take a go at him in canon because he finds Vox's obsession with him to be entertaining, but also because Alastor is kind of a narcissist and that same obsession massively feeds his ego, especially in a political climate that otherwise forgot about Alastor. Vox's whole "Who gives a shit about Alastor coming back?! Haha, now let me have a public meltdown and short out power to the whole city about it! Oh, fuck, why is he back, though?? Can we send a spy in to find out??" is exactly the reaction that Alastor wants every time he mentions his mysterious absence and gets brushed off.

At the same time, Alastor doesn't seem to register Vox as a sincere and genuine threat. He's a big enough fish in the Pride Ring pond that his obsession with Alastor is gratifying, but Alastor's self-absorption also doesn't really allow him to treat Vox as a threat tier above "annoying in a funny way, and also television is stupid." (Perhaps this will change in season 2... :eyes: (or perhaps Alastor will get Even Worse) (please god let him get even worse))

So those two things in combination make Vox the perfect candidate for Alastor to experiment with while maintaining his ego and not feeling particularly threatened. Despite Vox's Safeword 101 talk, Alastor would never put stock into that system with Vox unless he was certain that he himself would be able to back up a 'no' with overwhelming force. Him even considering safewords in the Live On Air! series is less for his own sake and more a politesse he offers on Vox's request to warn Vox to slow the fuck down before Alastor tries to put his insides on the outside.

2. And in direct contrast, we have Lucifer...

... Who Alastor obviously actually cares quite a bit about, because he's a whole nother power tier from both Vox and Alastor, and furthermore and possibly even more importantly, a credible threat to Alastor's relationships and standing in the hotel. I think a lot of discussion I see about Alastor prodding Lucifer seems to talk about how quickly he got annoyed about Lucifer's comments, but that misses the fact that he was pissed off before Lucifer even showed up. He got pissy the moment he saw the welcome sign, actually! And I wager that he was narratively absent for the scene where Charlie actually calls Lucifer because he would have done his best to manipulate her out of doing so had be been there.

And given that the two clearly haven't met before (though obviously Alastor knows of Lucifer - and hates that the inverse isn't true, hah), it's not 100% clear exactly why he's immediately so annoyed, but in my personal view of things and barring something like "he's projecting onto Lucifer because his contract is with Lilith," I think that what we know of Alastor's personality points most strongly to "he liked being the hotel's benefactor and sees it as His Project, and doesn't like the idea that Charlie called daddy for something that she thought mysterious, powerful Alastor couldn't handle." He distracts a lot with obviously-goading comments about practically being Charlie's dad in his duet with Lucifer, but underneath that he puts a lot of emphasis on the work he's done for the hotel and the fact that he's been supporting Charlie and the hotel from the start, so why the fuck is this deadbeat asshole suddenly turning up?!

Tl;dr: Charlie missed her insight roll on Alastor's personal investments and he's sooooo offended - and taking it out on Lucifer!

I think one of my favorite things about both Lucifer and Alastor is that they both sooo obviously belong in the Pride Ring, hahaha.

#ask #hazbin hotel #alastor #vox #radiostatic #my writing #anonymous #long post #part of the reason I love Alastor so much is that pride is also definitely my sin of choice #I relate to you #you horrible little narcissistic maniac you #meta #personal

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nihilnovisubsole · 6 months

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i think i followed you Back In The Day, seven years and seven blogs ago, for something related to mass effect (zaeed? maybe? who could say) and it's wild to come back to this site years later and find you thriving, surviving, growing-- playing ffxiv! love that game. curious how you'll feel about some side characters in shadowbringers, but i won't spoil which ones.

i do have real questions, though; writing tools. not pens or software, but personal structure tools and/or guidance. what does a beat sheet look like, for you? do you have a favored way of outlining or note-taking on your own thoughts when putting a story together?

and... i'm really curious how you hold a big story together in your head while you work on it in pieces, especially for something like dangerous crowns. there's this larger story i've been chasing around for a while, and I can't quite wrap my head around how to write the political/espionage plot for it without feeling like i've actually written a children's pantomime. the best i've got so far is "research real life events and use those as my outline" but after a point it becomes hard to keep track of all the variables of who knows what about whom, who is planning x when y, etc, etc. the characters don't need to know all that-- and may never know some things-- but i feel like /I/ need to understand what's happening on the macro level so i can move the world around them appropriately.

short version: how do YOU wrap your head around writing complex plots?

hey, anon! i started endwalker this week after a long... uh... glamour detour, so don't worry about spoiling things. i spoil myself for a lot of stories on purpose anyway. let's just say i've been attached to one too many characters who got killed.

anyway. writing. i've always handled plots the same way: clear documentation. if i don't note it down, i'm not going to remember it. i've used the same table outline since around 2014. it varies in detail for different projects, but the core format stays. i know it's kicking around in my blog archive somewhere, but it's worth reposting once in a while because people like to ask about it. here's what it looks like, featuring plot points cribbed from an endeavour episode:

i used this format for an outline at work a while back, and the team found it easy to follow, which was a big day for my ego. keeping track of plot structure is even more chaotic at work because we have multiple writers who all need to stay on the same page. we have very meticulous notes on what the player should know at which point, when we're introducing new information, and what we know, but shouldn't tell. we're also not above leaving notes like "this character has to convey X," "this character has to learn Y here," or "this is a clue that they're planning Z." it can be super on-the-nose. all that matters is that it makes sense to you. because you're right - if you get too lost, you can write yourself into logic holes of tremendous proportions. ask me how i know!

[as a sidenote, researching real-life events as a starting point has really grown on me in the past few years. my lead on coh3 had me do it. he said we were dealing with real people's history, so we couldn't be cheap or play fastball - we had to be accurate to pay it respect. even if you're not writing historical fiction, it just gives you insight into how people behave.]

i would argue that the plot of dangerous crowns is actually not that complicated, maybe to its detriment. there's kind of a genre struggle going on. at voltage, we were taught romance fans came for the relationship beats and valued them above all else. in fact, leadership told us players got irritated - which meant less sales - when the plot was too complex and took time away from the making out. political thriller fans, by contrast, expect relentless twists, high stakes, and harsh consequences, and sometimes see the relationships as superfluous.

but whatever. the point is, when you look at dangerous crowns' structure, it's a pearl necklace: a chain of anchoring events. the "pearl" scenes are where Big Plot happens. they're the reason you want to write the story, and probably the ones you have the most vivid daydreams about. the scenes in between are the string. not flashy, but important because they connect the pearls. they build tension and add logic, cohesion, and context. take the opera and hector's failed assassination. those are pearl scenes. that's a burst of drama i really wanted the story to build up to. i also had other flashbulb visions. livia by the fountain questioning herself, marcus' macbeth moment, the temple riot, things like that. so the question was, how could i believably travel between these pearl scenes? how could i make these big showcase moments connect smoothly?

if you're having trouble holding the story together in your head, i would ask, "what are your pearls?" what are the anchor points? outline those. it might not look like a necklace yet, but you'll sort of see it taking shape. and then, once you can see where your heart's-desire milestones are, you'll have a clearer idea of what can't fire until you set it up first. two other neat things can happen here. you could find the rhythm of your pacing, or realize you have a lot more plot meat than you thought you did. even if you don't, you have some road. and if you can't think of the string, sometimes you just have to start writing the pearls and see what comes to you.

good luck!!

#asks #anon #writing #long post

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penguin--rat · 1 month

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canine girl in all her doggy glory!! already posted her design and profile the other day, but i updated her profile and i want all her images in one post.. speaking of her profile, warning warning for talk of violence there more on canine (+ lyrics?!! Woah!!) under the cut:)

canine girl is inspired/an au of my oc alík, but i don't think it'd be wrong to say she's a different character alltogether? while the things she struggles with are things that alík does, too, she's more like.. idk ❤️only i can understand this ...

as you may have guessed by her warning, canine girl has violent intrusive thoughts, and feels extremely guilty for them, even if she never acts out on them. her profile doesnt get too into this .. since she feels that guilt and shame, i don't think she'd wanna share the details online .. or with anybody ever.. you know how it is 💥

her design is smth i struggled with greatly .. her mask is this

and as soon as i saw it on alíks pinterest board i was set on using it and im sooo happy i did!! i think it works greatly..!!! other notable things about her design, that im happy with, are mostly to do with her hoodie. her hoodie-ears are actual ears, shes just hiding them:) and its made to resemble a service dog vest!

you can't really see it in the 'fake screenshot' art, the first one, but she's got a kind of belt (harness ?) around her chest !! its around her shoulders too.. and her chain hanging from that could be interpreted as a leash ig ?? idk 💥💥you'll never understand sinister minds inner workings... another design-y thing is !! shes got her arms around herself in the fake screenshot, which is bc she's hiding her claws from you 💥her eyes are also made to resemblea wolfs:)

her pants are just like that bc its alíks fashion sense 💥and bc i think they fit! and i like them!! a little treat just for me:)

another thing that i wanna talk about is her profile!! its so !! chill !! the colours are warm and inviting, her info there is silly, she invites you to talk with her if you're struggling, shes got fun blinkies.. !! shes just having fun on a site hanging out and chilling .. its like that bc i wanted to show, even if in a little way, that intrusive thoughts arent indicative of a persons identity. canine's intrusive thoughts don't make her a bad person, they don't make her a rabid dog like she thinks, they just make her somebody with intrusive thoughts. shes more than her intrusive thoughts, you know ??

anyhow! the lyrics !! i wrote lyrics for a theoretical song that she would have, but Wont, because im not a songwriter. i might make a silly littly tune for her one day, like a minute long at most, most likey shorter, so these lyrics are what you get !! and also it was my second time writing actual lyrics (first time was 10 minutes before when i was writing lyrics for another tptm oc, unknown girl) so Dont be meanies... Ok... treat me niceys... her voice for this would be kohaku merry btw :3

warning, again, more specified this time: themes of violent intrusive thoughts, talk of violence, vague references to generational abuse

That I’m just like a dog, I know Got the leash and collar to show Tug it one way, then another I’ll obey you like no other

But obedience doesn’t cut it With teeth sharper than a razor blade The only way to be is afraid That’s what I say, anyway

Can’t say I’m sorry, not to you That’d scare me, letting you know About your mangled body on the floor Still just a fantasy, nothing more

(Violent thoughts suppressed) Ineffective muzzle helps little (Violent needs repressed) ‘Cause my razors make it brittle It’s not on purpose, just my spittle Can’t help my second nature

(BEAT ME, FLAY ME, LEAVE ME DEAD PLEASE DO YOUR WORST, I BEG IT WON’T BE UNDESERVING TO BEAT A WILD DOG SENSELESS

GIVE IT YOUR ALL, YOUR EVERYTHING WE BOTH KNOW I’D DO WORSE WERE I NOT A DOG BUT SOMETHING LIKE I AM NOW, JUST SHAMELESS)

The carpet floor’s forever stained A family heirloom of violence and hate Trying so hard to reject that norm Can’t help but feel it’s all I’m destined for

Gotta stop myself with only a collar Can’t be like my father’s bully father So as long as you hold my leash I swear I’ll hide my deepest needs

Even if it’s not real, I fear You’ll reach into me and see All these sinful fantasies Of your bloody arteries I don’t mean them, believe me It’s just that this is all I know how to be A mutt that doesn’t know any better Only to claw and dismember

(Violent thoughts excessed) Maybe it’s just natural selection (Violent needs processed) Can no longer deny this connection That I’m just like a dog, I know Got all this shame to show

Your hands are only ever kind A stark contrast to my mind It’s not real, just thoughts, I know Adrenaline still fills me though

My collar thins, soon it will snap Go away, don’t want you here for that Your kindness is naivety My impending misery Your outstretched hand is prey Don’t say I didn’t warn you Here comes the prophesised day Where the hand feeds no more

(WITH MY LEASH AND MUZZLE GONE YOU MISTAKE FOR A FAWN YOU THROW MY COLLAR TO THE FLOOR I BEG, PUT IT BACK ON NOT YOUR FAULT, BUT C’MON DON’T BE SO CRUEL AND SHOW ME I’M THE ONLY VICTIM TO MY FANTASY)

#tptm #the post traumatic manifesto #tptm oc #oc art #AT004-212 #kinda ?#eye contact #eye contact tw

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thegayghestieprompter · 4 months

Text

Random Papa HCs

(click for more, not nsfw but i wrote a LOT)

Primo<3

Primo was like. THE parentified child. If you think Nihil wasn't out being a Slut™ for the Whole Time you are WRONG!!!

He loves his brothers. Even Copia. Even before he knew they were biologically related.

He is Filled With Anxiety™ all the TIME. Being raised to grow up almost immediately is tough, yeah

This man. This man is so romantic. Like. He will love you forever and ever and ever and ever. And he will make sure you know it. You are going on All of The Dates. You are going to be given gifts randomly. Mostly flowers. He likes flowers

He likes flowers :3

can't cook for shit

Upon revival he looks a bit younger, like 60s/70s rather than like 80+ and definitely has long blond hair. This one is here because I like Peemo with hair. I want to touch his hair. I think I love hi

Sighs. Pansexual.

6ft tall

His legal first name is Federico. I don't know why, I found it on a baby name site and I love her (the name. Primo's pronouns are He/Him)

His pronouns are probably He/Him

Secondo<3

Slut. The Worst Sassy Bitch from 18 to like 29

He's like actually sweet but only if he is In Love with you

He loves his brothers. This does NOT mean he is nice to them

Everyone annoys him all of the time. There are no exceptions.

Only dates humans. Is confused as to why anyone(Terzo..Copia..) would date a ghoul. Ghoul-fucker. Ew. Nasty.

So he might be bi. I think he is

He's a Bisexual Bitch and I want tokiss hi

He's so fine

^^^not a headcanon thats actually a fact

Bald forever<3

cooks so fucking good. never cooks though :(

He had blond hair too when he was WAYY younger except he was like "ew i look like my older brother who acts like a MOM. dying this shit brown"

Wavy with some curls<3

Another He/Him!?!?

A Slut And Whore™ until he falls in love. On the rare occasion that he does he falls HARD. Stupid little dumby. I love hi

His legal first name would be Vincenzo. No elaboration. I just Think So therefore its true

6'2, says he's 6ft because he never actually checked, Terzo tells people he's 5'9

Terzo<3

short fuck. he's literally 4'9 and its literally canon and thats so fucking funny

Whore but not in a slutty way. He fake-romances like any sibling of sin and then gets FUCKED and then DIPS. Suddenly he has a lot of paperwork to get to

Slut but not in a whorish way. Wears revealing clothing for Omega but still the fancy kind. Kabukiaku has it down and I love her for that

Stupid old man with smile lines face wrinkles i think i need to kiss h

Did you know his confidence is the fakest shit because boy he is SO insecure (i have an angst problem this is my fault sorry

Ghoul-fucker

Loves to annoy Secondo. Gets pissed when Secondo gets mad. Tries to bother Primo. Gets pissed when Primo is kind and open to him. Hates Copia. Gets pissed when Copia Exists.

He romancess everyone with at least One Rose. IDK why but purple and red are so pretty together and he looks so romantic he is a very romantic man btw so he uses roses to stealyou

Hear me out. "Antonio"

Sorry I didn't elaborate his legal first name should be Antonio because??? yeah

Most people use He/Him for Terzo, he doesn't mind He/They. He just doesn't care. Basically cis he/him who is okie dokie with a little "they/them" here and there

he can't cook for shit

he's handsome

he's stupid

he's an idiot

he's so fine

he's my boyfriend

sorry for last bullet thats not a hc i just love him :(

Copia<3

Sigh<3

5'7. u3u

he's not that slutty actually he's too dorky to even properly romance someone. you give him hints? he thinks you're really friendly. he tries to give you hints? they are not understandable

Rats. Everywhere. He has pet rats. This is canon and if you disagree you are Wrong

be the rat you want to see in the world

that wasnt a hc sorry. He/Him

GREY HAIRS IN HIS BROWN HAIR GREY HAIRS SO MANY AND I NEED HIM. I LVOE HIM

sorry guys. i put myself back into my cage i am normal again. he has that cute little giggle. like that kind of laugh you hear that makes you just stop and stare at the person for a bit because You Are In Love With H

his smile is sooo sweet

He doesn't have fangs but he has sliiiightly crooked teeth that look kinda like em :)

he loves his brothers. He likes Primo and is closest with him cause Primo was active in his childhood and hung out with him and stuff. He respects Secondo but Secondo didn't really interact much in his childhood. He'll gladly make conversation and try to say hi when he sees him. He always kindly greets Terzo and awkwardly babbles about random shit getting progressively more nervous when Terzo is obviously annoyed

Hi. He's pretty

His office has plants that Primo gave him

He has every Employee of the Month award on his wall in his office

He can't cook for shit

take out<3

doordash<3

Pansexual<3

Ghoul-fucker

he's my husband

sorry no he's not. i lied. do you forgive me

ummmmm

rats?

yeah

Nihil >:( >:( 🤬🤬🤬

I hate him

Ugly old wrinkly BITCHSTICK

terrible

cheater

fuckass dumbfuck

i hate him

he's stupid/neg

i don't like him

young nihil is sooooo fine i need him in my household

i hate him

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graciecatfamilyband · 1 year

Text

The Info-Dumpers who Love Characters Website is totally sleeping on the best Info-Dumping Character of All Time:

Jade Daniels, the 17 year-old half-indigenous girl from Stephen Graham Jones’ My Heart is a Chainsaw.

In everyone’s defense, character-driven slow-burn literary fiction that is also a slasher (stab stab 🔪🔪🩸) is a hard genre to sell. Many of us who love one part of this equation don’t love the other.

But Jade has captured my whole chainsaw ♥️, and I CANNOT be normal about it. Jade has never met a person at whom she wasn’t willing to spout random facts that they have exhibited no interest in. She can bring ANYTHING back around to connect to her hyperfixation which is, coincidentally, slasher movies. And she is the most vivid, alive, real-to-me protagonist I have ever encountered. Because of the way she hyperfixates and info dumps, not in spite of it. (Which surely says something about me but again, I am among friends on this webbed site!)

Jade makes completely normal, totally hinged choices like:

(When we the audience are first introduced to her) Going up to a group of construction workers having a trash fire in the middle of the night and being like, “If we were in a slasher right now, this is what the plot line would be. Also, have some random slasher movie facts.” (Their response: Are you okay? You seem like you are not okay.)

Writing extra credit essays for her history teacher about the tropes and conventions of the slasher genre. For four years. Not what he asked for, but what he got. (These essays are included in the book and are a godsend for those of us who are not already slasher fans! They literally help the reader understand the story beats as they unfold, while simultaneously giving life to Jade’s voice and helping us understand what makes her tick.)

Deciding the New Girl At School has all the qualities of a Final Girl, the slasher film trope in which there is one girl left alive to confront the killer and stop the slasher cycle.

Trying to warn the New Girl At School that she is going to be The Final Girl, by putting a VHS copy of the 1971 slasher Bay of Blood and all of Jade’s slasher extra credit essays in her mailbox. With a note. A note that says that she is going to be The Final Girl in a slasher cycle that seems to be starting up. (Jade is just trying to help! So helpful.)

Of course, the core of this novel is: What is going on with Jade? After all, she actually wants a slasher cycle to start in her town. (She also wants the slasher cycle to be stopped at the proper moment, to ensure that the vengeance of the slasher is balanced by the justice of the Final Girl.) She does not see herself as a possible Final Girl, but she is willing to help the richer, prettier, more appropriate classmate who she thinks is that girl. Why, why, why?

To be clear, the novel does not posit that something must be wrong with a person to be intensely, obsessively interested in something or for that thing to be horror- even slashers! But Jade’s behavior is, like I said, not entirely hinged, even for a slasher fan. Something must be up.

The novel gives us all the clues we need to peel back the layers of what’s really happening, and when truths are revealed, everything just *clicks.* Themes are introduced and then reinforced on multiple levels. There is a bear. 🐻 (The bear is the not the slasher.)

And throughout, Jade gets to be fully-human and fully seven-fucking-teen. Even though she is on the cusp of adulthood, she is still a child, and a wounded one at that. (Her wounds in no way fucking diminish her.) Her judgment is often impaired. Her actions are often questionable. Her hair-dye jobs gets so bad, even she thinks its gross. She is so alive, and so deserving of love. 🥹

I love her.

I would fight for her.

I desperately want to make soup for her, and let her tell me about the Scream franchise (I do not care about the Scream franchise), and give her a safe place to sleep. Even if doing so makes it way more likely that I’m about to get murdered.

Jade Fucking Daniels. My chainsaw-hearted, info-dumping hero protagonist. I salute you, my final girl.

#my heart is a chainsaw #jade daniels #stephen graham jones #info-dumper extraordinaire #my most alive protagonist ever <3 #my final girl #i just CANNOT be normal about this one #i'm rereading and #it's making me FERAL #*vibrates*#no spoilers for don't fear the reaper please!#story-telling #books #letha mondragon is also a fantastic character fyi

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magicalgirlsirin · 4 months

Text

an oral history of vocaloid

ive seen a lot of (very misguided) discussion about vocaloid/vsynth in regards to AI voices discourse, so i thought it would be a good idea to sit down and explore vocaloid as a software, as well as mentioning other software of the same genre, to give people who dont really know much a better understanding

first and foremost: i dislike AI voices that are in unregulated spaces right now. actors who are finding their hard work end up on some website for anyone to use without compensation is devastating, and shows a lack of respect for the effort it takes in the field.

however, vocaloid has a much longer history that pre-dates these aggregate sites. vocaloid software was first released in 2004, and was initially marketed towards professional musicians. vocaloid's second version of the engine, however, decided to broaden the market towards general consumers, pitching it as helpful software to those who wanted to produce music, but didn't have the personal skill or ability to have someone else sing for their music (range, note holding, etc). amateur musicians wouldn't know how to direct someone to tackle a lyric persay, but using software would be easy to learn and they would learn the terminology associated with certain performance decisions.

in vocaloid 2's era, miku was released. miku's voice provider is Saki Fujita, a well respected voice actress who actually does a lot of work in anime as well as video games! the popularity of miku is its own separate post of history, but the explosive nature of it, i would argue, is the reason that vocaloid and other commercial voice synthesizer software ultimately ended up geared towards all consumers instead of just professional musicians. (crypton and yamaha did absolutely still cater to professional musicians, having private or non released banks only for certain companies/contractors to use though).

flash forward, and technology has developed way further. in 2013, cevio released, and in 2017, synthV debuted. by this point, vocal synthing has expanded from just singing software to also include software intended for just speaking (voiceroid by AHS software) and the idea of an AI bank to improve the quality and clarity of voice banks is becoming more feasible.

however, i wouldnt say the developments in AI voices came strictly from this side of things. in fact, i distinctly remember back in the early 2010s, people were using websites with voice models of characters like glados (portal) and spongebob. these audio posts were seen as novelties, and admittedly theyre fun just to mess around with (and people often find the spongebob rap music that yourboysponge makes to be pretty well done!), they do lead the way to better developed technology that doesnt compensate the artist...

so back to vocaloid. the thing about vocaloid (and all vocal synthesizers) is that contracts are in place to give appropriate time and compensation, along with permission to even use the person's voice. saki fujita continues to update miku's voicebank because she is being paid well to do so. this can be said for all vocal synth products. because these companies (crypton, ahs software, internet co, etc) specialize in making these tools and products for it, they have the appropriate knowledge on what proper compensation looks like. a random person grabbing a "raiden shogun genshin ai voice" model has none of those things. the voice actress doesnt get money off of that. its stolen work. AI can be used ethically, but it has to be done with regulation.

im leaving out specifics on certain vocaloids/vsynthesizers since its tangential to this post at best, but im making this so people have a better understanding of the history and intended usage of vocal synthesizer software. thank youuuuu

#crossing blades #vocaloid #hatsune miku #ai voice #piapro

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zorobae · 8 months

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just finished watching opla and I enjoyed it tremendously! I've heard of one piece but never watched or read it, so I went in blind with opla. and it made me a fan! I absolutely love the strawhat crew! luffy is so precious and best boy, zoro got my heart, nami is one hell of girl, usopp grows on you, and sanji just cracked me up! and the bond between luffy and zoro in opla is just *chef's kiss* (I kinda lowkey ship them...). the opla makes me want to dive in the anime next but the number of eps scares me LOL!

Hello there~

This is amazing! ^-^ Easily one of the best things that's coming out of this live action adaptation is that it makes new people become fans of One Piece and even give the anime or manga a try. As a longtime One Piece fan, it just makes me happy to know our fandom is growing. One Piece looks f-cking ridiculous at first sight, I get it, but it actually has so much to say. Its longevity is absolutely earned.

You know, you're talking to someone who ships Zoro and Luffy quite hard xD I'm not exaggerating when I say they have the healthiest, possibly strongest and most meaningful bond that any two characters have in the story. And we get to see so much of it. Their understanding and devotion is just on another level. In fact, there are things that the live action left out which make certain events in the future more meaningful/emotional. Though I'm curious how they're gonna adjust the story to keep a similar effect, so to say...

To be honest, I would recommend the manga rather than the anime anyway. The anime contains a lot of filler material which can range from elongating scenes to entire arcs that aren't canon. You might want to see certain scenes from the manga in anime form but you can just go ahead and do that after you've read it. There are more than 1000 episodes and also more than 1000 chapters but trust me, it doesn't take 20 minutes to read one chapter so you'll be able to catch up with the manga much sooner than with the anime. The number may seem daunting but it really isn't when you're reading it. Plus, seeing Oda-sensei's art improve over the decades is a joy. You can read all available chapters on the official shueisha site here. (Or you can download the mangaplus by shueisha app.) You can only read each chapter once for free, though, so do keep that in mind. If you do decide to read it, I would love to know if your opinion on any of the strawhats will possibly change and what you think of ZoLu's bond in the manga~

#ask #faethebae

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butchniqabi · 4 months

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Hey if you're willing to share I'm curious to know what being a teacher has been like for you! I'm actually considering becoming a teacher but I know its mentally a lot, however I do love kids and teaching something to others has always felt like something I'd end up doing

so full disclosure im an after school teacher so i only get kids for 4-5 hours every day and its structured differently from normal school. teaching isnt my Passion per say and im a bit grumpy with my management rn so that sometimes shades the posts i make, all that being said i think it's alright! kids are great and funny as hell, but we have a very tough site because we're a tk-8th and its...A Lot. i wanted to be placed with older kids but i got placed with 2nd and 3rd graders, which is not Bad per say, but not really a grade level i feel 100% confident in teaching all the time. i feel like the job is very rewarding and fun, but also incredibly hard. a lot of our kids have really hard home lives and its hard to be the strong one sometimes, yknow? i think the hardest part of teaching so far has really been being Miss Amatullah, Teacher Extraordinaire all the time. when im depressed i still have to go in with high energy, even "easy" days (like today) are hard when i have to comfort multiple crying children and simultaneously maintain control of my classroom. i think flexibility is so so necessary and if you cant handle a sudden change of pace or energy, it's going to be really tough. loving kids is only a small part of being a teacher, because you have to be able to discipline kids too, which is REALLY hard for me because there are situations where if i was a parent i would be fine with the behaviour but as a teacher i cant let happen.

to wrap things up: yes it is a very rewarding profession but you cant always be robin williams and miss honey, and if you cant deal with that it might not be the right field for you (like me, i dont intend on doing this long term). it's fun and kids are great, but make sure youre doing this because you Want to, not because it seems like it would suit you. love of children alone isnt enough, you need to be able to manage a classroom, multitask while multitasking, be creative, understanding, and utilize all the emotional labor you are capable of squeezing out of yourself

#hope this helps i definitely dont want to scare you away asdghdfgh #asks

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seresinsbabe · 1 year

Text

Just Pretend

Pairing: Rooster x fem!reader

Synopsis: After getting home from a really bad mission, Bradley can't cope with the loss and ends up taking it out on you. Inspired by the song Just Pretend by Bad Omens

Warnings: Character death, mild verbal abuse, mentions of insomnia and not eating, angst, very mild fluff at the end.

Just Pretend

THIS BLOG AND ITS FICS ARE 18+ MINORS DNI

I do not consent to having any of my work shared on any other platform. If you see any rendition of my works on another site know that it has been posted without my permission.

« « « « « « « « « « « « « » » » » » » » » » » » »

I’m not afraid of the war you’ve come to wage against my sins

I’m not okay, but I can try my best to just pretend

Rooster had fucked up. God he knew he’d fucked up. You’d always been so patient, so understanding. He had trauma, growing up without a father, losing his mother at a young age and all the things he’d seen as a pilot. He had almost convinced himself that he was too hard for anyone to ever actually love him.

Then you came along.

With your sweet smile, your comforting voice. It was like you knew how to handle each and everyone of his mood swings. When he woke up in a cold sweat from a particularly nasty dream it was you who comforted him. Pulling him down into your arms, holding him while you softly sang. On days when he was angry at the world it was you who always knew how to make him smile.

So will you wait me out?

Or will you drown me out?

This time was different, though.

Bradley hadn’t just had a bad dream or a bad day.

He’d had a particularly bad mission.

Going into the full details of it wasn’t something he’d done or could really do with you. And you’d always understood that. In fact you were okay with not knowing. Seeing the way some of the shit he’d seen affected him, you were more than okay with not knowing. He always ended up telling you, at some point. Even if he spared you the worst of the details.

Nothing had gone as bad as this one had.

It was a risky mission to begin with. When he’d briefed on the mission he was told it was more than likely someone wasn’t going to be returning. Rooster knew it was bound to happen to him eventually. He was bound to lose a wingman in this career at some point.

Maybe it would have been easier if was someone he didn’t know. A pilot that he’d never crossed paths with. One that he hadn’t spent more than a handful of nights at the Hard Deck sharing a pitcher or two of beer around the pool table.

It sounded awful to think about it like that, but it was true. Bradley couldn’t help but think that if it wasn’t Bob that died he wouldn’t be as upset.

That he wouldn’t have pulled away from you. Or said those awful words when all you’d been trying to do was be there for him. To love him in a way that only you could.

I can wait for you at the bottom.

I can stay away if you want me to.

I can wait for years if I gotta.

Heaven knows I ain’t getting over you.

It was hard enough dealing with the fact that he hadn’t been able to save one of his closest friends. Now that he had to do it knowing your spot in bed was empty. Untouched because he couldn’t bear to sleep in the bed without you. Fuck, he could barely sleep as it was. Every time he closed his he was met with the image of Bob’s lifeless body being carted off on a stretcher. Or, just as bad, the image of your tear filled eyes as you left without saying a fucking word.

No screaming. No ‘fuck you’. No ‘I hate you’. Not a single. Fucking. Word. Just pain in those pretty eyes.

I know the pain that you hide behind the smile on your face.

And not a day goes by that I don’t think I feel the same.

“You don’t fucking understand!” You felt your lip quiver. Never in the entirety of your relationship had Rooster ever talked to you like this. “Just stop trying to act like you know what the fuck I’m going through. You’ve never lost anyone. You can’t come close to fucking understanding.”

He had only told you bits and pieces of what happened, enough for you to know that Bob was dead and that Rooster felt like it was his fault.

From the beginning of your relationship he’d warned you that he had been through a lot. But that had never deterred you, because he’d never let things spill over like this. Rooster had always been good at not letting outside forces affect his relationship with you. He’d always caught himself before it got to this point.

Hearing the anger in his voice as he raised it at you for the first time ever stung. You hadn’t even been trying to understand, you were just trying to comfort him like you always had.

“Roos…I-I’m no-” he cut you off.

“Just stop. Okay. I can’t take being around you right now. A hug and a kiss isn’t going to fucking fix this, alright Y/N. You’re not a fucking therapist. You’re just a fucking secretary.” A bitter taste filled your mouth as you listened to his words. Whoever the man that stood before you was – it wasn’t the man you’d fallen in love with. It wasn’t the man who’d proposed to you just weeks before the mission.

No more words were spoken as you packed a bag. You looked at him with teary eyes one last time, hoping he would say something, anything. Nothing ever came and you left for your sisters.

So will you wait me out?

Or will you drown me out?

It was finally the day of the funeral. Rooster showed up in his full service dress. His eyes were dark and sunken in from lack of sleep and bloodshot from the tears he’d cried alone.

The second you arrived he could feel it. Like a change in the fucking wind he knew you were here. Of course you were here. Bob was just as much your friend as he was Roosters.

You looked worse for the wear, but no matter what you’d always be beautiful in Brad’s eyes. As if you could sense him looking at you, and you probably could, you met his gaze. Even from this distance he could see the pain in your eyes. It killed him to know he was partially to blame for the pain.

Something he’d promised both himself and you that he would never do.

Brad knew he had to apologize to you. He’d been thinking about it since the door clicked shut. So many times he’d typed out a message just to erase the whole thing. He could never think of the right thing to say and eventually he realized it would have to be in person. An apology over a fucking text message wasn’t going to cut it. Not when he’d hurt you so bad.

I can wait for you at the bottom.

I can stay away if you want me to.

I can wait for years if I gotta.

Heaven knows I ain’t getting over you.

You so badly wanted to talk to him. You needed Rooster in a way you’d never needed anyone before. Since you’d shown up at your sister’s she’d done nothing but dog on him. So much that at some point you just told her to shut up and walk away.

She was convinced he was finally showing his true colors, but you felt like you knew better.

When you got ready for the funeral that day you couldn’t stop hoping that he would talk to you. Of course there was alway the worry that your sister was right. That even if he did talk to you it was going to be much of what it had been when you’d left that night.

Brad looked like shit. You could tell he hadn’t been sleeping. That he’d been crying and hell possibly not even eating. He tended to lose his appetite when he was stressed like this. It made your heart clench, knowing that he was suffering. You didn’t want that, you wanted to fix it.

We’ll try again

When we’re not so different

We will make amends

Till then I’ll just pretend

“Hey.”

“Hi.”

Your throat constricted and you watched Bradley’s Adam's apple bob. In a split second he was pulling you into his arms. You felt the choked out sobs before you heard them and your arms wrapped tightly around him.

“I’m so sorry, honey,” he finally got out. Rooster pulled away, his hands coming up to cup your cheeks and wipe away the tears that had started spilling from your own eyes. “I-I should have never said that shit to you.” The pain in his voice was loud. “I just- I couldn’t handle it and you were in the crossfire but fuck-” he choked out another sob and it was all you could do to fall against his chest.

This was the man you had fallen in love with.

You pulled back to look up at him, wiping a stray tear away with the soft pad of your thumb. Brad never let himself be vulnerable with anyone but you. He always put on a front, even today it took you pulling him into an empty room at Phoenix’s house for him to have this breakdown.

“You were hurting,” it wasn’t really an excuse but it was the reasoning behind why he’d said what he said. You were sure if your sister heard you right now she’d roll her eyes and call you an idiot. “Doesn’t mean I’m not hurt by what you said, I just wish I’d been able to help before it got to that point.” Bradley nodded dejectedly, sure that you were going to tell him it was over between the two of you.

Sighing softly you pulled him to sit down on the bed. “I love you, Roos, but if that’s going to happen again I don’t know that I can come back.” It was painful to tell him that and you could see that it was just as painful for him to hear it. Even if you knew it was mostly untrue.

Bradley’s eyes went wide at the idea of losing you completely. “It won’t happen again baby, I promise.” He sounded desperate, pulling your hands into his large ones. “I-I called a therapist.” You blinked as you processed the words. It had been something you’d brought up in passing before, but he always insisted he wasn’t that far gone to actually need it. “Baby please don’t leave. I can’t lose you, too.” He was crying again.

This time you climbed in his lap, cupping his face in your hands and kissing away the tears. “I’m not leaving baby,” you promised and you knew it was true. Even when you left you knew you were going to come back to him. “I love you way too much.”

Rooster finally started to calm down and his hands came up to lay over yours. It was then that he felt the engagement ring still on your finger. “You didn’t take it off?”

You shook your head, smiling weakly at him. “Somehow I just knew if I took it off I’d be putting it right back on.” You gave him a weak smile and he returned it. “You’re worth it Bradley Bradshaw.”

He pulled your face down and connected your lips. A sigh of relief pushing through as you kissed.

“Good, because heaven knows I ain’t getting over you.”

Weigh down on me

Stay till morning

Way down, would you say I’m worthy?

#rooster x reader #rooster x you #rooster angst #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #top gun maverick #top gun angst #bradley bradshaw angst #bradley bradshaw

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anime-grimmy · 1 year

Text

Guess who got their ass up and actually wrote a fanfic. No, Im not a writer, this is a stream of conciousness which I cannot promise doesn't have obvious flaws, but I wanted to write one of my prompts from here. (it's the "Vash has soft hair" one)

Based in the '98 anime, Vashmeryl-centric.

______

As triste and unforgiving the land of planet Gunsmoke was, the festive atmosphere in the many saloons showed the bright sides of the hard lives of its populace. Meryl and Milly found themselves in one of the most joyful saloons they have been in a while.

The town they were in was barely on the map, just a small cluster of buildings that held maybe a few dozen residents. But as Meryl had gathered from fleeting conversations, despite all odds the small settlement was experiencing a small economic boom. She could have guessed as much, considering all the construction sites they’ve passed just at the outskirts of the town, or the fact the number of thomas in the stables and the cars blocking half the streets seemed out of the ordinary for such a small residency.

So it was no surprise how lively the people were. The saloon was basically glowing, the small lamplights reflecting off the many risen pints of beer. The atmosphere was so joyful with all the shouting, laughing and singing.

Meryl could not care for any of it.

Milly and her were cramped at a small table in the corner of the room, Meryl slumped back in her chair, hands idly turning her whiskey glass in circles without taking a sip. She was just so, so tired, the exhaustion weighing heavy in her bones.

Their few days long travel through the desert felt like it had taken weeks. From encountering sandstorms and bandits, to one of their thomas running off, everything that could have gone wrong, had gone wrong. When Milly and her had arrived at the inn and finally taken a much deserved shower, Meryl had been ready to flop into bed and not open her eyes for at least 11 hours.

To her dismay, the warm water had seemingly energized Milly to the point where she acted like they hadn’t just spent days full of sandy torture. Meryl really had wanted to decline, maybe even let Milly go by herself, but she just knew that the nagging feeling she’d get wouldn’t let her get a wink of sleep.

So, 30 minutes later found them in the brightest saloon for iles, Milly already downing her third drink while Meryl just stared off into space.

It really wasn’t too bad, actually. Milly was having a blast and Meryl was too tired to care for even the rowdier patrons. She just kept on watching the people with mild interest.

Maybe then it was her exhaustion that didn’t make her instantly panic when a very familiar broomhead made his way towards their table. Milly immediately waved Vash over when she spotted him, patting the stool next to her in invitation. Vash was all grins and drunken blush, probably having a big deal to do with the busty brunette slung under one of his arms.

Usually by now, Meryl would be filled with dread, disgust and a lot of other harmful words, but she found her mind was a bit too zoned to get riled up. Instead, she was honestly surprised Vash had managed to land such a woman, knowing how terrible he was at flirting.

It didn’t take too long for her to figure out how though.

The way the brunette was totally playing into his schtick, clanking drinks with him and even complimenting him, yet also keeping him at a physical distance, screamed gold digger to Meryl. She opted not to comment, it was weirdly enjoyable watching Vash dig his own grave.

A little flirty whispering here, some more coins clanking on the table there and a well-manicured hand brushing through the straw hair of his with barely disguised disdain over the woman’s face, Meryl was quite enjoying the show.

Ah, but then Vash got greedy, or too drunk to understand his companion’s signals.

His hand kept sliding too close to areas the brunette didn’t see fit, and after his third attempt, there was palm on his face and a second later, the seat next to him was vacant.

Meryl pulled her glass to her mouth, if only the hide the smile on her lips. The absolutely shocked and longing look he threw after the brunette was so sad that it was hilarious.

Milly, in comparison, didn’t have Meryl’s filter, especially not four pints in. Milly’s laughter was both sweet and boisterous which made Vash turn his hurt gaze onto her. With a loud whine he slid onto the tabletop, crying dramatic tears as usual. Milly slapped his back in comfort (a bit too hard if Vash’ wince was anything to go by) and shouted for another round of drinks.

Half a glass in and the whole escapade seemed to have been forgotten.

With her immediate show now over, Meryl let her eyes slide back over the crowd. Milly, despite being way too deep into her glass, seemingly had Vash under control. As long as the two of them just kept drinking together they’d stay out of trouble, probably, hopefully.

Meryl sighed. She was honestly too exhausted to care much.

The moments ticked by without anything really catching Meryl’s attention. She tuned into some conversations she could overhear or watched people lose at poker, but most patrons seemed to just drink and enjoy each other’s company. With nothing interesting to focus on, Meryl felt her eyelids grow heavy. She really didn’t want to fall asleep in the saloon, not when Milly was too drunk to find her way back to the inn, but the shouts and laughs soon turned into a low buzz in Meryl’s mind.

She was sure she was about to lose her fight against sleep when something blonde popped into her vision.

Meryl jerked back slightly, quickly blinking the drowsiness from her eyes, and turned to look at Vash.

He was leaning forward in his chair, closer to her, staring at her with squinted eyes. Meryl rose her brow at his…accusing? No, maybe puzzled look? She couldn’t quite describe his expression, but he sure was concentrating hard on her.

They spent a few moments like this, Vash just staring intently and Meryl waiting for him to speak what was on his mind. His head cocked to the side and Meryl swore she could see his eyes adjusting. A second later, they flew wide open.

“Holy crap, insurance girl, were you here the whole time?!”

Meryl pinched the bridge of her nose. He couldn’t be serious.

Vash laughed loudly, his chair scraping on the floor as he scooted closer to her. Meryl couldn’t help but lean back a bit when his beer breath hit her nose.

“Wow, you were so quiet, I didn’t even notice you! Wait, is that a new technique so you can watch me from the shadows?!”

Oh boy, he was being so serious about this. This time Meryl was sure his squinted eyes were supposed to be accusatory. She shook her head with a sigh.

“No, Vash, I just really don’t have the nerves today to pity you for being a terrible flirt.”

Vash gasped in offense, his hand flying to cover his heart. Meryl only rolled her eyes.

“Excuse you, that girl was all over me.”

Meryl gave him a deadpan look.

“More like all over your wallet.”

Vash’ hand slid from his chest to his pocket, protectively cradling the bag inside as if Meryl was the one trying to steal it. He held her gaze for a moment, before he cleared his throat and rebutted with way less confidence.

“I might have tried to appeal to her with some of my funds, but I know that my good looks sparked her interest.”

Meryl scoffed. The way the brunette had tried to cuddle up to him with as little touching as possible spoke more of aversion than attraction, which, if Meryl was being honest, was kind of surprising. She may call Vash a lecherous creep sometimes, but he was relatively harmless and not to mention far more handsome than most drunken patrons. Not that she’d tell him that.

“Really now, Vash? You really think that girl was into you? She bolted the moment you tried to make a move on her.”

Meryl was pretty proud of herself how little contempt and judgement clouded her voice as she said this. Still, Vash dramatically recoiled.

“She was just intimidated by my handsome-ness!”

Meryl sighed.

“Yeah, sure.”

Vash gave her the stink eye before leaning in close. Meryl wasn’t entirely sure what he was going for, but any seriousness was off the table with the way his lips pulled into a childish pout.

“She said my eyes were pretty.”

“Aha.”

“She also said my smile was nice.”

“Oh, how original.”

“She ALSO said my hair was great.”

At that, Meryl laughed.

“Vash, that girl barely dared to touch your hair! Not to blame her, I wouldn’t want to stick my hand in a haystack either.”

Vash’ jaw actually dropped at that. Meryl was taken aback how the look on his face wasn’t his usual theatrical performance but looked actually offended. A disapproving noise came from Vash’ throat as he jabbed a finger at her.

“How dare you! My hair is perfectly fluffy and stylish to boot! I will not allow you to insult my soft locks!”

Wait, fluffy?

“Fluffy? You can’t be serious.”

Vash slid the palms of his hands along his hair and then went to frame his face with a hand under his chin. He gave her a dazzling smile.

“Why yes, my dear insurance girl, my wonderful hair is the smoothest silk known to man.”

Meryl’s brow twitched. There was no way. No way in heaven and hell was that broomhead of his anything but dried grass. She’s seen it in action, it never lost form, and even when drenched to the bone his hair managed to look somehow spikey.

“There’s no way.”

“Yes way.”

“I don’t believe you.”

With a huff, Meryl fell back against her chair, crossing her arms in the process. She glared up at Vash, who was only staring back with just as much stubbornness.

Ugh, why was she arguing with him. Her body was almost melting into the chair from how drained her muscles felt, and here she was spending energy bickering with this idiot. And by the way his eyes shone with a challenging glint, she knew their argument was going to go on for hours at this rate.

Even while mulling over how to easily diffuse the situation, Meryl herself didn’t drop her gaze, therefore keeping the tension between the two alight. Vash’ own eyes flitted about, seemingly also analysing the situation, when he suddenly bent forward.

Meryl jerked back at the sudden movement and watched him angle beneath her eyelevel and then turn his face downward.

“Try it.”

Meryl stared at him for a moment.

“Excuse me?”

“Touch my hair.”

Again, Meryl recoiled, thrown off kilter by the sudden demand.

“What, no!”

Vash turned his head to pout up at her.

“Hey, you said you don’t believe it! This is the easiest way to prove it!”

Meryl held his gaze, seeing the dangerous mix out stubbornness and determination written all over his face. She really did not want to touch him, but at the same time, she was just so over this argument.

So, with a defeated sigh, she gave him a small nod.

“Fine, fine, I’ll do it.”

A big grin broke out on Vash’ face before he bend downwards again, presenting her the crown of his head.

Meryl was still hesitant. Somehow, this felt way out of bounds of their relationship, not that she was even sure where the two of them stood on an intimacy basis. But getting a bit flustered being so close to him beat bickering with him for another hour or so.

Swallowing another sigh, Meryl slowly raised her hand to the top of Vash’s spikes and gently took a strand between her fingertips. She rubbed them together slowly to properly feel the texture of his hair, and felt her eyes widen.

There was no way.

Meryl brushed a few more strands between her fingers, still doubting what she was feeling.

The hair felt soft.

Too stunned to accept this fact just yet, Meryl turned her palm towards Vash, gingerly pressing the hair down atop his head. It gave way immediately, bending down with the pressure she put on it and bouncing back up straight once she removed her hand.

Meryl could not believe what she was seeing, could not believe what she was feeling. Of all the impossible things she’s seen Vash do, this somehow felt like the most implausible. It just seemed so out of the laws of physics. After all, she had seen how his hair behaves. Once it was spiked up, his hair never seemed to stray out of its shape. While moving or being caught in the wind, his strands always seemed to move as one form.

But this, this looked and felt like something that should not be happening. Meryl bunched a bit of his hair in a fist, again evaluating how it felt. It wasn’t exactly silk like, how Vash had claimed, it reminded her more of finer, more strand-like thomas down.

Meryl released his hair and pulled her hand back slightly. Eyes still glued to the blonde mess in front of her, Meryl could hear a small voice in the back of her head screaming at her not to do what she had in mind, but her curiosity was too strong to not overrule her logic.

So, tentatively, she let her fingers comb through his hair. She let them slide from atop his forehead into his hairline until all her fingers were submerged in a sea of blonde. Meryl cringed slightly as she could feel some sand and grit in between his strands, but she kept kneading through his locks, untangling some knots she came across.

Meryl hated to admit how fascinating this was. She had always assumed such a dry and rough texture from Vash’ gravity defying hair, and yet, her fingers glided through even smoother than through Milly’s hair after a fresh wash. This blew all of her expectations out of the water, so she couldn’t help but marvel at the experience.

Meryl was only dragged out of her little trance when Milly’s giggling caught her attention. She turned her head towards her colleague, raising a brow in question.

Milly was trying to hide her highly audible laughs with a hand to her mouth, but Meryl couldn’t judge her as the poor girl was swaying in her seat from her buzz. The tall girl was also struggling to get a sentence out between her uncontrollable giggles.

“Aww, Mr. Vash looks like a kitten getting pats!”

Milly burst out into more laughter at her own quip, but Meryl immediately froze as reality caught up to her. With a hammering heart, she looked down towards the man whose hair she’s been toying with for the last few minutes.

Vash, for his part, looked to be in absolute bliss. There was a big, content smile on his face, body laying on the table with his arms serving as a pillow for his head. He had his eyes closed and was humming a sigh every few moments, bright cheeks getting even rosier as his smile grew.

Meryl only noticed now her hand was still scratching at the back of his head.

Flustered, Meryl jerked back her hand, instead opting to press it against her pounding heart. Vash wailed in protest, looking as if he had been ripped out of a cozy dream. Milly only laughed harder.

Oh god, what had she been doing? Was she really that zoned out that she was giving Vash, the absolutely insufferable Stampede, head scratches? This exhaustion must be making her delirious. Yes, that’s what it must have been, the exhaustion.

With a resolute slap on the tabletop, she rose from her seat.

“Ok, that’s it, party over. C’mon Milly, we’re going.”

Twin whines met her ears, but Meryl only glared at the other two.

“No, enough is enough. It’s late, we’re exhausted, and the table is filled with almost a dozen pints. It’s time to turn in.”

Now having her resolve back, Meryl whirled on Vash and flicked him against the nose.

“This also counts for you, Mr. Fluffybuns.”

Resolute on finally getting her well-deserved sleep, Meryl slapped some double dollars onto the table, grabbed Milly by the arm and Vash by the ear, and headed out the saloon.

Sweet bed, here she comes.

______

That was easier said than done, however.

As fate and circumstances would have it, the small size of the town only provided one inn for the whole town, so Meryl found herself dragging two drunken giants along with her.

The inn was a mere five minute walk from the saloon, but the sheer difference in size, mass and drunkenness made it an ordeal for Meryl to keep her two friends on track. She felt like she was running after children that tried their hardest to run off. Only the kids were over a head taller than her and probably could throw her around as easily as a sack of potatoes.

So, it took them a good twenty minutes to finally arrive at their five-minute-away inn, and Meryl all but slumped against the counter. She was just about to ask for their keys when two heavy weights barrelled against hair, squashing her against the table and knocking the air out of her lungs. With a loud groan, she pushed them off of her, shoving them in the direction of the stairs.

“Off with you two! Let me get our keys in peace, geeze.”

Meryl turned with a huff, trying not to look too disgruntled at the man at the counter. Thankfully, if anything it was amusement crossing his features. He offered her a laugh.

“Rough night out?”

“You don’t even know. The keys to room 104 and…”

Meryl noticed she had never asked Vash for his room number. As she turned to yell after the two drunks, a small jingle caught her attention.

“And 107.”

Two pairs of keys were dangling before her eyes. She met eyes with innkeeper who only smiled at her.

“Your buddy came in just a few hours ago, and I wouldn’t forget such a gaudy get up for a while.”

A nervous laugh made its way out of Meryl’s throat. So far no one in town seemed to even have an inkling that Vash was, well, THE Vash the Stampede. Still, comments like these unnerved her just a bit.

“Oh, yeah, he just really tries to stand out, you know. Thinks it’s going to land him some points with the ladies.”

Meryl bit the inside of her cheek. Even to her that explanation sounded kind of fake, but to her relief, the innkeeper’s chuckle seemed sincere.

“Well, just make sure that he doesn’t do anything stupid. The women here are vicious. If he makes the wrong move, they gonna put a bounty on him and come for his head!”

The man cracked up at his own joke, Meryl laughing only to hide how much this unsettled her. She knew it was meant as a joke, but from experience, things always liked to end badly.

So, as not to spill something she didn’t mean to, Meryl yanked the keys from the man’s hand with as much restraint as possible and hurried after her friends.

Milly and Vash were struggling up the stairs as she approached. For a moment, her heart almost jumped out of her throat when the two of them bent backwards at an alarming angle, but they managed to readjust themselves with a loud thud on the stairs, breaking out in drunken giggles. Meryl moved to shove them up the stairs, trying not to hurry them too much as to prevent them from falling over.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity to Meryl, they arrived at their room door. Meryl had to grab onto Milly and Vash so they wouldn’t mindlessly keep wandering down the hallway. She spun them to face her and thankfully caught their attention. Dangling the key in front of Vash’ face, she placed it in his palm, turned him around and pointed down the corridor.

“Just three doors down from here, alright?”

Vash blinked slowly, moving his eyes from the empty hallway to the key in his hand, down to Meryl and back again. Meryl waited with waning patience as his fuzzy mind processed her order, but not too long and he gave her a lazy smile and an even lazier salute and went to trudge down the corridor.

Sighing in relief, Meryl turned to her own door and unlocked it with a swift movement. The door was barely open a fraction when Milly squeezed through, making a straight beeline for her bed. Meryl could only smile, Milly really had the right idea. Collapsing in bed seemed like the best course of action right now.

However, just as Meryl moved to close the door, a nagging little voice in her mind made her hesitate. With apprehension, Meryl leaned back to see beyond the door and down the hallway.

Vash had, thankfully, found the correct room and was currently trying to push his key in the lock. Emphasis on trying.

With Vash’ glasses on, she couldn’t really read his expression but by the way his brows furrowed and he kept missing the keylock entirely, she was pretty sure his eyes refused to focus. Meryl watched him miss the hole sometimes by an inch, other times barely even striking the metal of the doorhandle. When one miss sent the key clattering to the floor but Vash kept repeating the hand motion still, Meryl groaned in resignation.

She threw a quick glance into her and Milly’s room, only to find her colleague passed out on the bed. Meryl closed the door and locked it, just to play things safe, then quickly crossed the small distance between her and Vash’ room.

Vash, for his part, had finally caught up with the fact that the key was not in his hand anymore. The way he flexed his fingers and frowned down at them were enough to clue Meryl in. When she came up to his side, she gently pushed him back a little.

“Move a bit, will you?”

Meryl noticed him startle, but as soon as recognition settled in he smiled and took a step aside. Meryl bent down to retrieve the fallen key and smoothly unlocked the door. Just like with Milly, the moment the door was open just a slit, Vash pushed his way inside. Meryl threw a glare after him but ultimately let her shoulders slump with a sigh. At least he was safely in his room.

Sticking the key on the inside of the door, Meryl turned to Vash to remind him to lock it after she left, when he suddenly stunned her into a pause.

Instead of flopping into bed, Vash had his duffle bag over his shoulder and was currently pushing open the window. Meryl only managed to startle herself out of her stupor when Vash swung a leg outside the window. With a few quick steps, Meryl bound across the room, grabbed him by the bag and dragged him back into the room. Vash fell flat on his ass, the momentum bringing his feet up in the air, and Meryl used the short moment to slam the window shut.

She whirled on him with an incredulous look on her face.

“What the hell are you doing, Vash?!”

Vash sat up with lighting speed, eyes so big they peaked out from behind his glasses.

“What does it look like, I’m bailing! They’re already after me!”

Meryl felt her heart drop down to her knees. Vash was being pursued? Why hadn’t he said anything until now? Wait, if he was being followed why had he even stopped here? And how could he let himself get this plastered knowing there was danger?

Shaking her head wildly, Meryl quickly dispelled the mounting questions from her mind. Now was not the time to fall into panic.

“Vash, what are you talking about? Who is after you and since when?”

Vash was back on his feet again, trying to edge closer to the window, but Meryl planted herself as a barricade, not allowing him to leave before she got the answers. With an indigent whine, he met her eyes.

“Didn’t you hear the innkeeper? They’re already out for my head! There’s no telling how long it will take ‘til they get me!”

Air tight in her lungs, Meryl’s eyes widened as realisation hit her.

Then she smacked Vash upside the head.

Meryl rubbed her face tiredly as irritation burnt through even her strongest haze.

“Vash, you idiot, the guy was JOKING. Now stop acting stupid and get your drunk ass in bed.”

When Vash still looked resistant, Meryl’s patience was worn too thin to talk him into doing anything. Instead, she just yanked the bag from his shoulders, grabbed him be the suspenders at his back and dragged him over to the bed. With a strong shove, she pushed him onto the bed. Vash landed with a pained grunt, but the moment he realised the softness he found himself in, his body went lax with a content sigh.

Feeling a headache come on, Meryl rubbed her temples as she thought about what to do next. With a longing look at the door, she debated whether to just leave and finally get the sleep she so desired, but Vash was hanging halfway off the bed, still fully clothed and with a gun strapped to his leg. Against her better judgement, Meryl went to close the still wide-open door and go help Vash properly get into bed.

She returned to him no 10 seconds later, and his hip was already sliding off the mattress. With a result huff, Meryl grabbed him by the belt of his coat and dragged his body fully onto the bed. She made quick work of the clasps of his boots, sliding them off and arranging them next to the bed. Next followed the knee protectors and his gun, which she decided to keep on the nightstand to still be in quick reach for him. Once again, Meryl pulled him up by the suspenders that connected to the back part of his coat, and settled him against the wall to more easily open the buttons of his coat.

She took a moment to read his expression, mostly to see if he was still awake. The reflection of his glasses didn’t give her any insight on what he might be thinking, but when his lips slowly stretched into a smug grin, she was at least sure he wasn’t asleep.

“Oh my, insurance girl, didn’t peg you for the handsy type.”

Meryl just rolled her eyes at the overly suave tone and slapped him against the chest.

“Oh, shut up, you. Don’t spout such nonsense, rather help me get this off.”

At her comment, Vash’ grin only grew but he did as he was told. With practice ease the last few buckles and buttons popped open and he slid out the form fitting coat like it was no problem. With a little shift of his hip, he tugged it out from under him and let it crumple to the floor. Apparently satisfied to be freed from excess weight, Vash let himself fall back onto the bed with his hands behind his head.

Meryl just shook her head at his antics and retrieved the coat from the floor. She was honestly surprised his coat was in such good condition with how little care he seemed to handle it. She hung the coat up on a chair and took the time to right the discarded duffle bag as well. Stepping back to Vash’ bedside, Meryl reached down to eventually pluck the glasses from his nose.

To her surprise, an arm snaked around her waist and pulled her down. With a startled gasp, Meryl tried to retrieve her balance but ultimately found herself sat down the edge of Vash’ bed. He was grinning up at her with a mischievous glint in his eyes, but Meryl only graced him with a huffed sigh. She placed his glasses by his gun before trying to peel off his hold on her.

“Come on, Vash, let go, I wanna get to bed as well.”

Meryl bit her lip, believing she might have given him just another sentence to easily turn into a tease, but Vash only laughed softly and secured his grip on her waist.

“Aww, come on, insurance girl, just until I’m asleep? Don’t wanna get nightmares. It will be real quick, I promise.”

Now, that was an unusually honest sounding request. Meryl peered down at him. Vash’ looked and sounded rather sincere, which perplexed Meryl a great deal. Even if drunk, since when did he act like this in front of her?

Still somewhat taken aback, Meryl gave a slow nod and let herself relax against the bedside. Vash looked content, small smile turning gracious, and closed his eyes with a sigh.

As he promised, he slipped off into sleep only a few moments after. Meryl couldn’t help but watch him. His little smile soon turned lax, his jaw even hanging open slightly. The arm around her loosened its grip until Vash’ hand lay slack on her lap. She could easily unwind herself from him now, leave and finally get to her own bed, but something in the carefree, calm and dare she say, vulnerable expression on Vash’ face made her so mesmerized she couldn’t get herself to move.

Then, a little twitch of the hand in her lap. Muscles tensing in his arms up to his shoulders. His jaw clamped shut and his brows furrowed. His dreams seemed to turn sour.

Meryl watched him still, apprehensive on what to do. Had he actually known he’d experience a nightmare? Was it something that had happened, or was it the alcohol that made his mind turn dark?

Either way, he seemed to have anticipated it even in his drunken stupor, and he had asked Meryl to stay.

Slowly, with her own hand trembling, she laid her thumb on the crease of his brow. With gentle strokes, she tried to ease the tension, staying attentive on how his body reacted to her touch. His muscles relaxed just a bit, the arm around her not clutching at the fabric of her shirt anymore. But the furrow in his brow and the downturn of his lips wouldn’t leave his face.

The image of a goofy smile and feeling of feather-light texture beneath her fingertips rushed through her mind.

Ever so slowly, her fingertips glid across his forehead until they met the base of his hairline again. With one smooth motion, Meryl buried her fingers in his hair. She let her nails lightly scrub against his scalp and once again carefully loosened any tangles she could find.

The effect was instant. She had not brushed her fingers through his hair three times when a heavy sigh left him, and so did the tension. The knit of his brow immediately evened out and his mouth popped back open in tiny breaths. His body basically melted into the bed after only few moments of her combing through his hair.

Vash was doing fine, he was fine. She could leave.

Meryl really didn’t want to leave.

A humourless laugh left her. She felt so selfish, enjoying an intimate moment like this even though Vash was so vulnerable underneath her hands. Meryl couldn’t deny the happy buzz beneath her skin to see him so content, so at ease. She also couldn’t deny the thrill it sent through her as smooth locks glid in between her fingers.

She wanted this, she wanted this so badly, but she also knew she couldn’t for so many reasons.

She knew Vash. No matter how big a flirt he was, intimacy was just something he seemed to deny himself at any cost, be that physical or emotional. Not that she was any better. Meryl had to bitterly admit that she was not ready to act truthful to her emotions either, she was too prideful and scared to do that.

So, sharing such a calm moment together, while one half was in drunken, sleepy daze, felt both exhilarating and awful at the same time.

But still, Vash had let her close, had requested her presence, even if he was drunk. So even if it was egocentric of her, if only for a few moments more, she wanted to be self-indulgent and enjoy the quietness and intimacy she could only dream of.

Vash was drunk out of his mind, he wouldn’t remember this.

He would never have to know.

______

Except when opening her eyes the next morning, an aquamarine gaze was staring right back at her. There was surprise, confusion, realisation and some kind of excitement sparkling back at her, and Meryl couldn’t stop the thrum that went through her body.

Oh, she was not ready to face these feelings just yet.

So a scream, a slap and a flustered march back to her own room would have to do for now.

#trigun #trigun anime #trigun 98 #meryl stryfe #vash the stampede #vashmeryl #fanfiction #yes i actually wrote sth #procrastination for the win #i really just wanted to give vash head scratches ngl

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