#tried not to think too much about this or i'd end up listing the whole show
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top 5 duck family moments
🥺🥺🥺🥺
the scene in the s1 finale where the triplets are listing all the things they love about donald. so wholesome!!!! so sweet!!!! they love their dad!!!!
all of the first adventure. baby donald and baby della and scrooge trio of all time!!!
donald and della's reunion 😭😭😭😭
the triplets meeting della for the first time 😭😭😭😭😭
the part in the last adventure when bradford threatens the life of scrooge's "most trusted ally" and it's donald
ask me my top 5 anything
#ask#madisonrooney#tried not to think too much about this or i'd end up listing the whole show#donald being in 4/5 of these truly the best dad/brother/son of all time!!!!!
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okay i know the Discourse™️ has been going on for way too long at this point, but
i think some people outside of the OFMD fandom don’t actually get why we’re particularly annoying about this show
OFMD is not the first queer show to ever exist. if anything, it's a late entry in decades of queer media. over a year and a half since the first few episodes aired, everyone knows that OFMD is queer. that doesn't make it particularly special
but back in March? this is the trailer that dropped in February of 2022, 2 weeks before the premier. if you're used to seeing queer chemistry in shows that aren't intended to be queer, you might see the hints between Ed and Stede here. but to most people? it's just a silly little pirate comedy. just guys being dudes. the trailer doesn't even hint at the other 2 canonical queer relationships in the show -- the closest it gets suggesting romance is the music and the pink in the poster
so when people watched this show in March 2022, they went into it expecting subtext and nothing else. to them, it was like watching Sherlock or Supernatural or Merlin in the 2010s. if you were in any of those fandoms -- especially Sherlock and Supernatural -- you know what it was like; constant jokes at our expense, being mocked for creating explicit fanwork, made fun of by the creators and within the show itself. if we saw queer subtext, that was our problem. this was a time when you pretended NOT to be in fandom, for fear of ridicule. we kept our fanwork to ourselves, we DID NOT share it with the cast, and we accepted that our favourite ships would probably never be canon. maybe one day, if we were lucky, we'd have a show where the subtext wasn't mockery as much as deliberate foreshadowing -- but that had to be YEARS away
right?
OFMD was never billed as a queer show, not in the beginning. there was no LGBTQ+ tag on (HBO) Max, it wasn't on anyone's list of upcoming queer shows in 2022, it flew under the radar through most of its first season. this was a show about pirates, and sure, some of them were queer. but not the LEADS. if you think they're romantically involved, that's must be fandom brain poisoning
except the 9th episode aired, and they kissed. and the show said "you're not crazy for thinking they have chemistry because they really do. it's been a romance this whole time". and in the 10th episode, Stede realizes that he's in love
(not mandating you watch this clip if you don't care for the show, but there's something that feels particularly earth shattering about no one saying the word gay but knowing that Stede's realizing he is, that it's completely unambiguous and explicit in a way that only straight romances are usually allowed to be)
this is why people freaked out about this show. no one knew. even the creator, David Jenkins, was surprised when WE were surprised that it was gay for real -- he set out to write a love story, using all the tried and true beats of a rom com. he'd never even heard of the term queerbaiting. he looked at historical Blackbeard and Stede Bonnet and thought "oh, there's something here" and just...wrote that, with very little fanfare, like it was inevitable. like it was obvious. of course Jim and Pam end up together. of course Buttercup and Westley end up together. what kind of disappointing ending would it be if You've Got Mail ended with the main characters just going their separate ways?
so of course Ed and Stede are in love
look, i get it. we're annoying and won't shut the fuck up about this show that seems mediocre at best. i watched the whole thing back in march, thought "huh, that was cool" and was sure that i'd forget about it in a few days
an hour after looking at fanart on twitter, i was lost in the fucking sauce
there's just so much to unpack from a mere 10 episodes. it covers racism, toxic masculinity, gender expression, sexuality, trauma and abuse. and i don't think we should overlook the fact that the non-white characters in this show get to be fully human in a way i haven't seen in my favourite shows in recent memory
additionally, most OFMD are 25 or older. we're not people who've been spoiled by queer rep, who don't get how hard it used to be, how you'd have to grovel for scraps, how shipping and fanfiction was a way to find queer rep where we thought there never would be. we've been here. we're annoying about this show because for a lot of us, it's the first time we've been treated like our queerness isn't an anomaly that needs to be relegated to its own section, that needs to be praised for the bare minimum of acknowledging that we exist. it's not pulling punches to avoid scaring away a straight audience. it just is.
OFMD for me is like when i watched Black Panther for the first time and realized that this is what white people felt all the time. have there been other black superhero movies? of course! does Disney fucking suck? BOY does it. but that was the first time i got to sit in a movie theater and watch a mainstream film that looked at Africa and said "look at how beautiful you are, exactly as you are"
and idk. i think that's really cool
#scarrlet rambles#ofmd#cant wait for all 5 notes on this post#and dont be fucking mean i'm not trying to start shit#anon is off btw if you want to try that#we're going to have a productive conversation or none at all we're adults here#for some reason tumblr didn't save my links and stuff THANKS TUMBLR#anyway the typo version is floating around now i guess 🥲
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AITA for telling my mom to either get me what I've asked for, or to just get me gift cards?
This probably makes me sound horrible and ungrateful, but this is an issue I've had for about the last ten years of my life. I love my mother dearly, and I am so insanely grateful that we are in a financial position where we can receive gifts at all. I'd genuinely be happy with just a card and a cozy day in, but my mom always insists it isn't Christmas without at least one or two things under the tree.
I always ask her routinely as we inch toward the later months of the year what she'd like, and I do my best to get her exactly what she wants. I'll get her one or two other things too, like some skincare or chocolates or shoes or something, but I always stick to what she actually asks for.
If she asks me for a specific dress, she'll get it. If she asks me for a certain type of perfume, she'll get it.
The same....Cannot be said for her.
I've begged her over the years to just stick to getting me what I ask for. I don't ask for anything expensive. I think the most expensive thing I've ever asked for were concert tickets, and I offered to pay half. I just more or less wanted help actually getting them, because as we all know, concert tickets sell so fast its like you blink and they're gone, and the more people you have trying to get them the more chances of success.
Usually I'll ask for something like a particular poster I saw online, or a bedding set, a new phone case, ect. Small, easy to get things because honestly, I don't need that much.
What I actually end up with is a bunch of random stuff I will never use and clothing I'd never wear and once or twice, tickets to do things I hate doing.
Its like she asks me what I want then goes out of her way to get me the exact opposite of what I've asked for. She always pouts at me and berates me for 'looking disappointed' or never using anything she gets me (I hold onto it for a few months then quietly give it away to a friend or thrift store).
It makes me feel guilty, but this is a conversation we have every. Single. Christmas.
(For example I'll ask for, say, a pair of white shoes. What I'll actually get is a box of wind up toys from the dollar store, expensive paint brushes when I've never touched paint in my life, and a box of chocolates from a brand I don't like.)
This year, once again, she asked me for my list, and I just gave her some stores and told her I'd like gift cards to those places. She gave me a weird look and dropped it, but asked again a few times, and each time I just reiterated what stores I wanted gift cards to.
Well lo behold, I come home from college and there's packages under the tree. Proper packages, not just envelopes or anything else that a gift card would realistically be in.
I guess I was staring at the tree with a weird/sour expression, because it wound up starting an argument between us. Her argument was she's getting me gifts, I should be grateful, and she tries really hard but I'm just 'impossible to please.'
My argument is I tell her repeatedly exactly what I want and not once have I ever gotten what's actually on my list. In which case, why the fuck should I bother writing a list? I'd rather have the gift cards so I can buy exactly what I wanted in the first place.
She said I ask for clothes, I get clothes. I said I ask for specific clothes and she gets me ones that I wouldn't even look at in the store, let alone buy.
The whole argument ended up with her calling me an ungrateful asshole and confiscating my gifts to return them all after the New Year. She told me I can just have the money from returning them and 'be fucking happy for once.'
Its Christmas Eve and she's still not speaking to me. I feel terrible, but I'm also relieved. Either this means from now on she won't get me anything, or from now on if she asks for my list she'll actually get me what's on it.
My dad is staying in the middle. He said I'm right, and over the years he's tried to convince her not to buy all that stuff, but he also said I should've just done what I always do, fake a smile, and get rid of it later.
Is he right or was this fight a blessing in disguise? Am I the asshole for ruining Christmas or am I justified in voicing what I have for the last ten years running?
What are these acronyms?
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Every time I see a Wedding Impossible GIFs on my dash I keep thinking that when it's over I'd love to read your take on what went wrong with this show. In a form of a very spiteful rant preferably.
(the show probably doesn't deserve too much of your time but I am just very VERY curious and had to share)
WELL! I was considering just letting this show go quietly into the night, but I will take this excuse to do a good rant instead.
*cracks knuckles*
You asked what went wrong with this show, but truly, nothing went right with it. From top to bottom, it's an utter waste of a good premise and a total destruction of the rare opportunity to get some positive queer rep into a het kdrama for a broader audience than will ever be reached by a ql. Let me list the most glaring problems:
They made Do Han a supporting character in his own narrative. Do Han, his sexuality, his desire and need to hide who he is to protect himself, and his desperate plan to avoid a life he doesn't want is the core of the story. Despite that, the story treats him like a minor supporting character with limited screen time and virtually no interiority or character development that made any sense.
The relationships were poorly written and the bonds were not believable. Ah Jeong was meant to be Do Han's ride or die bestie, but nothing in their scenes together or her behavior towards him suggested this was actually true. They seemed more like acquaintances who were friendly enough but had no real loyalty to each other, or even like she was a random actress he hired to play his wife. And Ji Han and Do Han had no brotherly bond or affection to speak of; their relationship consisted entirely of Ji Han throwing tantrums and demanding things for no reason other than he wants them, and Do Han trying to avoid being forced into them.
The leads were terrible people and the show did not realize that. Do Han's brother and best friend entered into a romance while she was engaged to Do Han. Ji Han thought it was a real relationship and did not seem to feel any guilt about pursuing his brother's lover. Ah Jeong was under a contract she agreed to as both his best friend and as a job to protect him and did not seem to care that she was breaking her commitment and threatening his safety. They gallivanted around flaunting their relationship in public with no regard for Do Han or his reputation whatsoever. And the show tried to convince me that Do Han was the selfish one in this scenario for the great sin of being gay and not just fucking off and getting out of the way of their relationship. Ji Han and Ah Jeong were never held accountable for what they did to him; instead we got to watch many scenes of Do Han being shamed and berated. Anyone who contributed to the writing and depiction of this can get fucked.
Every element of the story was poorly written and the resolutions were either unearned or so badly set up that they fell flat anyway. Do Han was being harassed and stalked and the story only barely cared about this. The family drama was boring and the grandpa character was a mess of contradictions who changed on a dime depending on the demands of the plot. There was no chemistry to speak of between the leads. The romance was utterly unbelievable and developed so poorly that it was impossible to care about whether these two assholes got together. The show used romcom tropes randomly to fill time even if they didn't fit. The final episode was stuffed with cameos by actors with personal connections to the cast and crew in the hopes it would distract us from what an unsatisfying conclusion it was, and the whole thing ended on a bizarre wedding gag that didn't work at all. The only good part was Do Han coming out on his own terms and leaving to go live his own life in New York, but the way they framed that was so gross I couldn't even enjoy it.
Most importantly, the messages of this show were deeply, unforgivably homophobic. This story went out of its way to tell us over and over again that Do Han is a selfish coward for being closeted, that his sexuality is a burden for his loved ones, that his family and friends are the real victims for having to deal with him, and that he was the one in the wrong for trying to protect himself. At no point was he allowed to get truly angry at the way his family and friends were treating him; he remained benevolent and shouldered the guilt and blame for everything, despite doing absolutely nothing except try to live an authentic life. At every turn the show depicted his siblings and grandfather and friend being hateful and/or careless with him, but then told us it was Do Han's fault for being who he is. They wanted us to blame the gay character and sympathize with a brother who resented him for not being the straight business leader he wanted him to be, and a friend who betrayed him without a second thought. The show argued passionately that the lies Do Han told to protect himself were the real problem, not the homophobia and hatred and rejection he faced every day of his life. It was an abysmal and offensive message and exactly the opposite of what a responsible piece of media would be trying to communicate.
I don't know if the people who made this show are actively malicious or just deeply incompetent, but they had no business telling a story involving a queer character if they were going to do it like this.
#if it's not already super clear#i do NOT recommend watching this#wedding impossible#kdrama#shan answers
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Retire |Kakashi X Reader| HC
Summary: You need some convincing to leave ANBU.
Warnings: Mentions of alcohol and depression. Mentions of suicide. A bit angsty and self-destructive, but fluffy overall.
- - - - -
Even though he'd retired a few years back, you were still an active ANBU captain.
The job was grueling, and he was well aware that the longer you stayed, the worse the missions became.
That isn't just because of the overall baggage people acquire, but because seasoned black ops were often sent on the more... unethical missions.
You'd been acting off recently. He had let it go at first, knowing how taxing the line of work could be, but something in his mind was bugging him to investigate.
He assumed everything had started to actually get to you, so he decided to check in on you between missions with team 7.
He knocked on your door. It took a minute, but you answered.
He wasn't sure what he'd expected, but this wasn't it.
Your appearance was appalling.
You'd lost a lot of weight, you had bags under your eyes, and you reeked of alcohol.
"Just checking in on you. It's been a while."
"Yeah, Tsunade has me on back to back missions. This is my first break in months."
He had assumed his intensive schedule with his team was the thing keeping you two apart, but apparently not.
"How about you get cleaned up while I go get us something to eat? My treat."
"I'm pretty tired, Kashi. I think I'd like to continue rotting for the time being. Thanks for the offer, though."
You gently shut the door in his face.
A sour look plastered itself on his face.
Unfortunately, your use of rotting didn't seem too far off, so he decided to talk to a third party about it.
His first stop was to see Tenzo. Maybe he knew what was up since you two worked so closely.
"I've noticed as well. I tried to ask, but they told me it wasn't appropriate for subordinates to question their captain."
Add that to the list of odd behavior.
You loved Tenzo like family, just like Kakashi did, so the sudden change was worrisome.
He went to ask Asuma as well, knowing he had been in the village more often than he had recently.
Asuma pulled him inside his home and away from prying eyes. Last thing he wanted was the wrong person hearing such a sensitive information.
"We already talked to Tsunade about it months ago when we noticed a decline in her health. Word got back to them, they said something about breach of trust, and they haven't spoken to any of us since."
Kakashi just nodded.
He remembered a time where he also reacted poorly when he'd been questioned in a similar manner.
The only difference is lord Third actually listened instead of allowing him to dig himself deeper into an early grave.
He dwelled on it for a few days.
He cared about you deeply. It was different than any of his other friendships- more personal and open.
The last thing he wanted was to go behind your back and end up with the same treatment the rest of the group was getting.
So he put on his big boy pants and showed up at your door again with vengeance.
He had been practicing what he'd say the whole way over. He needed to be prepared for anything you threw at him so he didn't falter.
But when you opened the door, his fire simmered out.
You just looked so tired.
His words got stuck in his throat.
So he did the only thing he could think of - he just walked forward, straight into you, and wrapped you up in a hug.
You resisted at first, but the second his warmth hit your bones, you relaxed.
It only lasted for a moment before the feelings started to set in, causing your body to shake with sobs.
You fell to the ground, dragging him with you, but his hold didn't loosen one bit.
"It's okay. I'm here for you."
That only made things worse. Something about his comfort was making all the feelings you've worked so hard to repress bubble up to the surface.
After you'd visibly calmed down, he'd picked you up and carried you to the couch. He positioned you so you'd be touching as much as possible without him being too forward.
"I hate ANBU."
Straight to the point. He wasn't sure if that was good or not.
"Why don't you retire? It's been almost fifteen years. That's way longer than most make it."
You hesitated. You had a reason, but the thought of saying it out loud made it sound so silly.
One look at Kakashi’s face told you he wasn't messing around.
You sighed and leaned your head on his shoulder. It made it easier to answer without him looking at you.
"If it's not me going out there, its someone else. I'm already too far gone, may as well save someone else from this fate."
Oh.
Kakashi had fully been expecting some sort of 'I can handle it' response, but this one was so... awful. Just absolutely heart-wrenching.
He collected his thoughts, trying to find a way to reason with you.
"There are people in ANBU who can handle that kind of mental load. You were that person many years ago,"
You just looked at him with that sad, defeated face, and it broke his heart all over again.
"But that's not the case anymore. It's time to pass on the torch."
You shook your head, ready to get up and kick him out. He just pulled you back down and held your hands in his.
"I was so angry when I was forced to retire. I felt like I could do more, like it wasn't that bad, and everyone was underestimating me. Do you know what happens when shinobi like us aren't told to quit?"
You shook your head.
"They end up like my father."
You stayed silent after that. How could you argue when he had just pulled the dead dad card?
So you promised to think about it.
He knew that would be as good as it would get, so he dropped it and opted to switch to a lighter subject.
After an hour or so of talking, you fell asleep. He carried you to your bed and tucked you in. He thought about staying over, but decided against it.
He didn't see you the next day. He'd knocked on your door, but no one answered, and he couldn't sense you inside.
He hoped you were just busy and not on another mission.
He did see you the next day, however.
He was heading to the Hokage's tower to chat with Tsunade about team 7's next mission when he bumped into you.
You smiled at him.
It felt like he was looking at a different person. You were almost glowing. Your eyes seemed a bit brighter, face looked a little fuller, and overall vibe was less damming.
"I retired this morning."
He damn near hugged you in front of the whole village.
"That's great to hear."
#naruto#naruto shippuden#naruto headcanons#kakashi hatake x reader#kakashi headcanons#kakashi fluff#kakashi x reader#kakashi sensei#kakashi hatake#hatake kakashi
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The Hickey on Your Neck
↳ Vash the Stampede x Female Reader
One-shot
Summary: Only seconds before closing your eyes do you realize that the dreams you had forgotten among the lust and thrust of your lover were the life you were destined to lead.
Or a story about how You and Vash fucked from dawn to dusk on his birthday.
Word count: +17.5 k.
Genre: explicit smut, romance, angst (Trigun au).
Warnings/Tags: +18, NSFW, established relationship, soft/dom Vash the Stampede, too much fluff and kissing, scar worship, plant patterns display, manhandling, cunnilingus + fellatio, creampie, fingering (with prosthetic arm), unprotected sex (c’mon! We want his seeds), multiple orgasms, hair pulling, two smut scenes (one romantic, other hardcore), aftercare, emotional trauma, violence, blood and gore, post-Trigun Stampede but no manga spoilers.
Notes: I'd never written a Trigun fic before, but with this Vash brain rot, I'm sure it won't be the last. I originally intended to name this fic "Sleepless Nightmare" after TOMBI song, but somehow changed my mind. You'll see why. "Elay" in my mother tongue means the Moon of a Tribe. A nick name Vash will use for reader.
By the way, you can also read the Disclaimers and Writer's Note at the end.
Song Recommendation: The Hickey on Your Neck Playlist
You can read my fics on AO3 and Wattpad. If you have any questions, don’t be shy and ASK. This is my DISCORD account, in case you want to contact me.
Back to master list.
07:30 pm – July 21st
A hole had been left in your heart. Throwing yourself backward, you tripped over your feet. Your head slammed into the floor as your arms did little to break your fall. It was a pain you'd never known, a pain you never thought you could feel, never would have even imagined. From the inside out, you were lit on fire by a bullet that went off in your chest.
All of a sudden, everything slowed down.
So this, you thought, was what dying felt like.
You blinked, and it seemed to take forever. The images before you were unfocused, with colors, bodies, and lights swaying in unison and stilted movements blurring. Your ears couldn't hear clearly. All the sounds were garbled, warped, and too high or low.
Who … she?
I asked for a tall, blond man with … eyes, and the folks pointed at her.
How come … shot her …?
She said … had never met such a man.
… idiot! What if she's with the gunman?
Whatever. … doesn't draw a gun anymore; rumor has it.
What a moron! The man may not kill, but … wiped out … whole city!
What … … we should … then?
If … … his girl, … … screwed up!
… the bounty! … get lost before the news …!
It was like all the words were banging into each other, colliding again, spinning around you. Your name seemed to be being called, but you couldn't hear it. Everything was muffled, slippery, and off-balance, like it was there, just out of reach, but you couldn't find it.
Heavy footsteps stomped, stomped, and stomped the ground, and a familiar face appeared before you. The shape, the golden and green colors drew your attention, and you tried raising your hand to feel his warmth once more and assure him that everything was okay, but it was too hard, and suddenly you couldn't breathe. Your throat felt like it was being slashed, holes punching into your lungs, and the more you blinked, the less clearly you could see. The tightest breaths, tiny little gasps, were soon all you could manage. Pain, pain, and more pain followed the dizziness and lightheaded feeling. It was terrible, never seeming to end.
Your sight suddenly went dim. Blindness overtook you.
Blood dripped from you rather than being seen as you blinked, blinked, and blinked in a desperate attempt to regain your vision, but all you saw was a cloud of white. A short frantic gasp and the pounding of your eardrums were all heard. Some warm sensation spread throughout your body as the fresh blood pooled under you.
You knew your life was about to evaporate, and it only made you think about how short you lived with him and how he would blame himself for your loss. Leaving your tears to fall, you whispered, "I-I'm sorry, Vash."
05:45 am - July 21st
A sharp intake of breath caused your eyes to fly open. Your skin froze in a cold sweat as your brain waded in waves of distress. Inhaling as much as possible was the only thing you could do. Your chest heaved, and your heart raced. You looked around, feeling the stillness within the madness, blinking hard against the white ceiling.
Your hands reached your throat and chest. No blood. No holes. You could feel your pulse. That must be the sound of your heart, at least, you hoped.
There was a strange feeling in your gut, like your instincts were stumbling through mud, and your bones were filled with stones. Your eyes shifted to the other side of the bed, and you sighed in relief. The reality sleeping next to you brought a moment of clarity. You sat up on your elbows, head spinning as you glanced at the nightstand.
The glass was empty.
You slowly pushed the sheets aside and felt more awake with your bare feet touching the cold floor. Picking up the glass, you tiptoed toward the murky kitchen.
You reached for the pitcher on the table, but the water never made it to your lips; instead, your trembling hands grabbed the faded and scratched edges of the cabinet as if letting go of this old piece of plywood would plunge you into the blackhole of your nightmare.
A muffled whimper escaped from the bottom of your throat, and you whispered, it was just a dream. Yet, your white knuckles became wet as tears streamed down your face, blurring the cracked tiles before you.
You shouldn't have cried. You should have been stronger. Not just for yourself, but...
Incoherent thoughts still occurred to you as you pressed your palm to your lips—a fruitless attempt to stop any further crying from coming out.
It was just a dream. Everything was fine.
Your glistening eyes were fixed on the glass of water as you took a sip and pushed the venom-like lump down your throat. Nobody was going to lose anyone. This fear was deeply buried under the sands of your heart. Why did it have to appear today of all days?
A chill ran down your esophagus. Your hand shook involuntarily, and a few drops of water slid from the corner of your mouth to your chin and neck and then ran to your perked nipples.
Looking down at your body, you wiped the drops away before feeling cold. After all, this planet didn't earn its name, "Noman's Land" for nothing. The weather could get pretty chilly and cruel in this desert when those two suns weren't out. Moreover, let's not forget how many people were denied heat due to a lack of resources. Ugh! So, it's not like you didn't know you should've worn something, but God damn it! You woke up feeling a great deal of fear. Fuck! Still, you weren't eager to catch a cold. At least, not today. As you were about to return to bed, you suddenly stopped. Random images filled your mind.
Tears staining emerald green eyes, red flowers blooming on blood, and heart-wrenching screams fading in the night, all in an empty room filled with balloons and mud.
The next gulp of water tasted salty, leaving you feeling numb. Tears must have flowed down your cheeks. You lowered your glass and let your thoughts drift away.
There was a flash of your limp body in your mind, accompanied by a sharp twinge in your gut, a screaming sensation in your body, as if your lungs craved for air.
You wicked away the images, expunging thoughts of pain and death from your mind. The churning in your stomach began to slow, but your skin took on a damp, clammy sensation in its wake. You struggled to recount the things you had eaten last night. It must be it. No doubt, you had eaten poorly.
It was just a dream. What the hell was wrong with you? Crying over a dream? What were you, five? No, not today! Not today! Not today! Get your shits together!
After a moment of hesitation, you rubbed your eyes with the back of your hand, ran your palm across your forehead and nose, and stopped it on your mouth before glancing at the bed.
Your pale face bloomed with a faint smile as you saw the sight—a miracle in this barren wilderness.
The curtains of the half-open window fluttered lazily with the morning breeze, letting the suns' rays play upon his scarred shoulder blades now and then, and run their greedy fingers through the golden waves of his hair, an enraged sea of sunflowers bounded by rough rocky beaches on the side. Oh! His undercut was glorious from where you watched.
He was sleeping with his eyelids slowly moving. The corners of his lips were curved upwards. Today seemed to be one of those rare days when he was free of the burdens of his past. Was he dreaming? What was his dream about? Love? Peace? Foods? Probably sweets!
You tried to avoid the woods squeaking beneath your feet as you walked back. Putting the glass of water next to the orange-tinted shades, you slowly climbed back under the warm sheets without shifting the mattress too much.
Once your head touched the pillow, cinnamon, and caramel again filled your nostrils. The man ate so many donuts that you feared he would become one. When you pictured it, your smile reached your eyes, and you giggled silently.
Like on the days you woke up early, you rolled over to face him and let your eyes roam over his abs muscles and those beautiful V lines guiding you to his secret paradise. Other than the massive gash across his chest, he had several cuts on his arms, wounds on his shoulders, and scars all over his back and legs. This man was a walking history, marked with painful memories, and luckily, your lips had perfectly mastered the story behind every blemish, slit, and stitch on his body.
It wasn't that simple, though.
When you first met him, he was a broken man covered in an old cloak, his eyes filled with agony. He was consumed by remorse, but nonetheless, he was still full of life and willing to try and glue back all his broken parts. Indeed, it was a challenge for him, and somehow, it didn't come easy to you either. Your heart ached when you removed each piece of clothing from his body. You cursed those who hurt him. It took you time and love to learn how to cherish those wounds instead of looking at them with pity. And little by little, your eyes learned to see a delicate kind of beauty in them, as if, every once in a while, you could see the sunlight shining through the cracks of his heart, lighting up your world in a most wonderful way.
Perhaps that's why after years of running, running, and running, he stopped for once and decided to rest. Something about you must have felt like home. And how lucky you were to have this?
06:30 am - July 21st
You couldn't look away from him, your mind unable to comprehend the perfection of this happiness. He was so ethereal you could hardly fathom that he was yours, wanted and loved you. You couldn't even hear yourself think over the rush of blood in your ears. The sight of him sleeping beside you, relaxed and vulnerable, was causing wild, desperate thoughts to race through your head. God! The fantasies you'd had about him. The places your mind had gone.
You sighed and brushed your face to the pillow, hoping he would roll over to you in his sleep so you could get back into his arms and the legs draped around you. Your eyelids peered at the glistening prosthetic arm in the soft light of the down. Could he feel your warmth whenever you kissed those fingers? How come you had never asked? There were many things you hadn't asked him yet.
Maybe you should start tomorrow? Hm? It's not like the world was ending today.
"You're going to come back over here, or you want to leave me cold and lonely?" he murmured, the raggedness in his voice confirming that he had been sleeping. Your gaze shifted upwards to meet his eyes, only to realize they were still shut, but his lips were painted with a playful grin.
Something inside you melted. It moved by his words, his smile, and his voice.
"I thought you were asleep." You scooted closer, and he wrapped his arms around you, cautious not to accidentally hurt you when he slipped his left arm beneath your neck. "I didn't want to wake you up." Your forehead pressed against his chest, and you felt the coldness of the iron mesh against your skin. His chin rested on your head, and his toes caressed your legs. The prickles of scars and fine hairs of his limbs tickled yours, and you felt blessed.
Funny how your nightmare faded the moment you felt his warmth like he burned a hole right through your head and pulled all your thoughts out. Well, other than that, it seemed like this morning, everything about him was exactly what you needed. His voice was calm and caring, his arms protective, and his presence comforting. You didn't want him to let go of you.
"Even if you had woken me up," he said, his artificial fingers sinking into your hair, and he continued, "I wouldn't have minded." A light kiss on the crown of your head followed his honest words. Even though this man kissed you every day and night, you could feel a silent giggle seeping into your body, causing your face to blush bright red.
Vash yawned soundlessly as he pulled you closer, his eyes still closed. The two of you were so close, too close, but never close enough for him. You had come to realize that your body heat did more for him than any blanket could. It was always in his eyes, aching with a desperate yearning he could only meet with you and your touch.
A joyful happiness settled between you as his hands drew shapes and patterns alongside your spine like those bright ones sometimes you could see on his body. Your lips curved into a smile as you watched him. His hair thick and blonde. The lines of his body sharp and robust. Damn! He had everything about him beautifully crafted. His nose. His chin. His ears and eyebrows. The eyelashes any girl would kill for and those turquoise-green eyes you longed to see. He had a gorgeous mouth.
You lingered too long there, your eyes betraying your mind.
Vash smiled. "What are you doing?" He fiddled with your hair, wrapping a lock around his finger.
In response, you sighed. Clearly, you would never discover how to avoid getting caught red-handed every time. "Just enjoying the view," you said, still staring at his mouth. You reached and touched two fingers to his bottom lip only to feel a rush of memories.
Long nights. Early morning. His mouth on you. Everywhere. Over and over again.
07:15 am - July 21st
He laughed sheepishly at your response.
You brushed a strand of hair off his forehead. His hair had grown a little long. You stroked his cheeks and drew his head back toward you, pressing your lush mouth against his. It never took him long to part his lips. He kissed you back, holding your head steady with his prosthetic arm while his other embraced you tightly. You could feel him smiling against your lips.
He had your heart, and you loved him quite horribly, too. This fact always smacked you over the head so hard you felt dizzy. You should have been afraid and wanted to hide it, as he was the most wanted man on the planet, but love had made you bold and brave.
You pulled back and studied his kiss-inspiring lips. Your whole body was filled with a warmth you wanted to share with him because it was pure, and so was he. There was no way for you to find the right words to describe how you felt.
The morning light was shining through the windows at the perfect angle and time. His muscles were taut, bathed in gold.
"Can you lie back, Vash?" you asked, pushing his shoulder back toward the bed. Finally fluttering his eyes open, he lifted his head in your direction.
Oh.
God.
His eyes.
He blinked dark lashes, revealing a spectrum of sadness and beauty, unlike anything you'd seen before. The way a person could convey so much with a glance caught you off guard. He had an extraordinary amount of pain paired with even more extraordinary passion.
His face spread into a wide smile the moment he saw you. These smiles, they changed him, and moments like this killed you a little.
He had the kind of face that made you forget where you were, who you were, and what you might say or do. You held his face in your hands as you laid his head down on the pillow. A half-lidded gaze sat on his face as he leaned to your touch, and you kissed him. Slowly, this time. His eyes fell closed. His mouth responded to yours.
Your fingers moved to his neck, then to his hair, and your mouth followed them. Soft lips caressed his earlobes and nipped the tiny single hoop, hot breaths hitting his skin, surprising a giggle out of him.
His hands reached up to pull you closer, but you stopped him. "No," you whispered. "Don't move." Without a second thought, he dropped his hands.
"Lie back and keep your eyes closed," you muttered, and strangely, he didn't object. His obedience led to you kissing him everywhere. His cheeks. His eyelids. His chin. The tip of his nose and the space between his eyebrows. All across his forehead and along his jawline. Every inch of his face. Soft, small kisses that said more than you ever could. You wanted him to know how you felt. You wanted him to feel it in the way only he could, the way he could sense the depth of your emotions. You wanted him to know and never forget.
And you wanted to take your time.
As your mouth moved down his neck, he gasped. You peeked up at his features only to meet a crooked grin on his face. The moment was worth savoring. It seemed like Mr. Vash was enjoying himself, so your tongue continued to adore his arm's sculpted hills and valleys, the perfect shape of his torso.
You breathed in the scent of his skin and took in the taste of him as your hands ran down his abs, kissing your way across and down the line of his torso. You kissed around his navel, and the trails of fine hair underneath caressed your lips. He kept reaching for you, trying to touch you until you told him to stop.
"Please," he said, taking a deep breath. "I want to feel—"
Even though he couldn't see you, you raised your brows with a head tilt and gentled back his arms. "Not yet. Not now."
He let out a breath in protest and crossed his arms behind his neck until your hands went further down and his eyes flew open. Blinking at him, you found out you were still fascinated by his eyes—such a stunning shade of green. "Close your eyes, Vash," you had to tell him.
A big gulp of air filled up his Adam apple. "No." He hardly spoke.
"Close your eyes!"
With his sharp gaze following your every move, he shook his head and leaned on his elbows.
"Fine." You rolled your eyes, and your hand grabbed the base of his hardness.
As soon as your nails brushed the skin of his length, he sat up and stared at you. He was breathing so fast you could hear and see his chest moving.
With a smile, you looked him in the eyes and leaned your head down. Your mouth took in the tip, and your tongue traced circles as Vash gasped. The sight of your bent head made him bite his lip. No doubt every fiber of his being demanded you to take him fully in your mouth, but he wanted you to call the shots. Allowing you to control the pace pushed him to the edge. He enjoyed the thrill of knowing he was at your mercy.
Soft hairs of his thighs against your ears, your nose skimmed his sensitive areas, and your lips kissed all over those favorite parts. The smooth skin of your fingers rolled around was warm and delicate, so fragile you were afraid you might tear it with your teeth. You felt his hardness throb against your cheek, pleading with you not to neglect him. Your thumb rubbed the pre-cum off the pink tip as you raised your head.
You looked up at him, his hair gleaming like golden flames, his cheeks drenched with sweat, and his lower lip stuck between his teeth, and you realized that his eyes looked at you with a look of something like trepidation, as if he was nervous. His face was still flushed red, and he had an expression somewhere between unworthiness and pleasure. With every stroke, his breath grew heavier. Obviously, he wanted more but was trying to contain his desire. Did he feel he was getting something he didn't deserve again?
There was no way you could let him be alone with these thoughts. So, before his dazzled eyes, you licked your thumb and watched how blood drained from his head and rushed straight to his torso. In surrender, he fell back; his eyes squeezed shut. You closed your mouth to half his length, and he turned his face to the pillow, stifling a moan. A tremor ran through his body, and his hands gripped the sheets tightly. Your hands ran down his legs, grabbing them just above his knees and inching them apart so you could trail kisses down the insides of his thighs.
He looked like he was in so much pain. So much pain.
You licked the pain away.
Twirling your fingers around the length, you took the crown in your mouth. Only enough to tease. Too little to satisfy. Your lips gently pressed against it, and when Vash was ready to scream, you accepted his whole length in your mouth.
Your lips were sealed tight as you hummed and increased the speed of your ministration. He threaded his fingers through your hair and molded his hands into your head, not to push you further down but to tilt your face up.
His forehead and neck were dripping sweat. The lines of emotion on his face were so deep you wondered how you must look to him. His throat bobbed, and you felt yourself drown in his eyes, enigmatic yet expressive, like sea foam, tempestuous but very calm. His fingers trailed over your salivate-covered lips, and you noticed that the sadness in his eyes had receded.
The world was suddenly brighter, bigger, and more beautiful.
07:40 am - July 21st
Taking hold of you by the arm pits, Vash pulled you in until your chest touched his. Next, you were rolled over so that your back touched the mattress, and he crawled onto you. Now his arms were propped up on either side of your head so he would not crush you under his weight. Looking into his eyes, you were pinned in place. His urgency ignited your bones. The polished planes of his face glowed with rivulets of sweat. His hardness was poking desperately against your thigh.
"I want to … …, …," he whispered. Intoxicated, you couldn't digest anything except his body hovering over you.
"… ?" His body pressed closer, and you realized you were paying attention to nothing but the dandelions blowing wishes in your lungs.
His eyes were heavy now in a way that worried you, but his gaze was still so tender, focused, and full of emotions you could hardly bring yourself to say anything. As your words faded, they became an unspoken whisper. Your lips glued together.
Screams.
Death.
Screams.
Your heart suddenly raced. What if these moments were destined to expire?
The sound of a clock striking midnight. A pumpkin carriage. The possibility of losing him.
You didn't want your arms to be deprived of his warmth. His touch. His lips, God, his lips, his mouth on your neck, his body wrapped around yours. The nightmare had caused this all, you knew, but the realization was like a pendulum the size of the moon. It wouldn't stop slamming into you.
Blinking fast, you swallowed back the fear building in your throat. God! He was speaking with you, but you couldn't hear him.
You were worried, really worried something was going to happen to him. What if bounty hunters found him? Could his brother hurt him? No. No. No. Even though you were only a human, you would never allow such a thing to happen. You just couldn't. You...
"Hey," he said, his voice soft, so soft. His arms were stronger than all the bones in your body. He pulled your figure close. You heard the beats of his heart humming deeply within his chest, and the steel of his arm encircled your whole body, releasing tension from your limbs. The icicles in your body were melted by his heat. Something about this frame made you want to freeze it forever. "You okay, Firefly? Wanna stop?"
The words he said sent waves of emotion coursing through you. He could read you like an open palm. You weren't lost before you met him, but you were never found until he laid eyes on you. Your tears stung as they fell backward down your throat, burning as they went. "Kiss me, Vash," you said before closing your eyes.
He searched your face, unsure what to do, hesitating, until you felt his lips on your shoulder, tender and scorching, so gentle you could almost believe it was the kiss of breeze and not a man.
Again.
This time, it was on your collarbones and felt like an ache that needed to be soothed. You didn't want to do anything to stop his mouth from touching your body.
He pulled back.
Desire.
Crave.
Need.
Again.
Your eyes refused to open.
His finger grazed the corner of your mouth, tracing its shape, the curves, the seams, and the dips. You felt him so much closer, his body heat filling the air around you, along with his smell and something sweet, until nothing was left. Your senses were so engulfed in his scent you didn't even realize your back was arching toward him as you breathed him in until you found out his fingers were no longer on your lips because his hand had gotten around your body.
"So, where do you want me to kiss you?" Vash whispered, his chest heaving, his words almost gasping. A wave of blistering heat moved through you, sealed shut your mouth. You didn't specify precisely where you wanted him to kiss you, and he didn't seem to have any difficulty selecting the spot.
He whispered your name as he kissed the corner of your eyebrow. "Here?" His lips brushed over the shell of your ear, and your body squirmed slightly. "Or here?" He pressed a kiss against your neck, right beneath your ear, and you tipped your head to let him in, biting down the urge to beg him to take more, to take faster, as he murmured, "tell me."
Clasping your warm fingers with his cold metallic ones, he hovered over you to kiss your throat. You were the oxygen he desperately needed to breathe. His body was almost on top of yours, one hand in your hair while the other held yours delicately yet firmly. His lips crushed yours in no time.
A kiss like this was like swimming in honey rivers, like being dipped in gold, like diving into an ocean of bliss and not realizing you were drowning because you were too caught up in the current to notice. Nothing mattered anymore—neither your nightmare, this room, or the whole fucking planet.
All that mattered was this.
This.
This moment. These lips. This strong body pressed against yours, and these firm hands that always found a way you bring you closer. Oh, My Gosh! You wanted so much more of him. You wanted all of him.
Your eyes opened up.
Not content to be passive, your hands ran down his back, dancing over his broad shoulders, pressing into his dimples, and squeezing his hips.
Your hand grabbed a fistful of his hair when he broke for air with a groan, but you pushed him back, kissing his neck, arm, collarbones, and chest. It was amazing. Being with him, touching him, holding him like this. The rush of adrenaline was so intense and euphoric that you felt invincible.
He muttered your name, his lips mouthing the letters, barely speaking. Your skin was scorched everywhere he hadn't touched you.
He kissed your top lip.
He licked your bottom lip.
He kissed just under your chin, the tip of your nose, the length of your forehead, both temples and cheeks across your jawline. Then your neck, behind your ears, the space between your breasts. He nibbled your nipples and left trails of kisses all the way down your belly button until his entire form moved down your figure, disappearing as he shifted downward, and suddenly his chest was hovering above your hips.
Grasping your calves, he spread your legs apart just enough for his head to fit between. Your thighs were lifted, and you couldn't see him anymore. His only visible features were the top of his head, the curve of his shoulders, and the unsteady rise and fall of his back as he breathed. Eventually, even that sight was lost, with your head falling backward and muffled moans leaving your mouth.
Vash ran his hands down and up around your bare upper thighs and ribs, and he held your hips to make you stand still. Your eyes lit up like small firecrackers every time his hair teased your groins until his lips kissed you there, and fireworks exploded in the back of your head.
As his right hand pressed against your stomach, his tongue played around to make you scream aloud. His mouth brushed against your skin in places you couldn't see but felt deeply. Oh my! You were out of your body, touching stars, when you realized he was working his way up your body, leaving two fingers of that prosthetic arm behind.
"It might feel a bit cold," he said as his nose glided the skin of your stomach, leaving random kisses around your breasts and collarbones just to ease your tension. "Tell me if it hurts, okay?" His hair was a mess, the wetness on his lips all familiar.
A nod came from you in response. He almost seemed to be smiling as his fingers slipped inside your slit, and your nails dug into the fabric. Moaning, you felt his warm hand brushing your hair backward as the other moved up and down inside your walls.
Your mouth was parted in a silent moan, and his small pecks covered you all around. There were tears in your eyes, baby hairs sticking to your sweaty forehead.
As his thumb and two fingers hit all the right spots, your throat wailed in frustration.
You grabbed his free arm, and he pulled himself up, onto you, on top of you. As if reading your thoughts, he kissed you hard. How strange, yet sweet, all you could taste was you, yourself, on his tongue. You moaned at the taste, and he opened his mouth more for you, allowing you to brush your tongue against his teeth.
The stinging coldness of his fingers was long gone. You had forgotten everything. There was something you shouldn't have forgotten, but you couldn't even remember why, what you were forgetting. Amid his length caressing your side and those digits thrusting backward and forward, paying attention to anything else was hard.
You could die from this, you decided. From wanting him, from the pleasure of being with him.
You must be smiling because he was looking at you and smiling too. His forehead was pressed against yours. His skin was flushed with heat. His hand had kept your head still. Your hands gripped his nick, sliding into the hollow behind it. You placed your palms just above his nape, and your fingertips gently began to squeeze and massage his undercut.
"Va-sh."
For a moment, you thought life poured out of you, or maybe your vision fractured as release barreled into you, and you grasped his name over and over again till your body calmed under his weight.
08:10 am- July 21st
Your eyes landed on his glistening wet metallic fingers, and you were dripping, burning, melting with anticipation. He was still on top of you when you thought you heard him speak, his mouth close to your ear.
"I love you," he whispered and kissed your brow. It never occurred to you that he could be like this, so human, so real, but it was there. It was right there. Raw, written across his face. You were about to mutter all the words and worries you held in your chest, but suddenly he stood up and stared blankly at the other side of the room.
You followed his gaze to the pane of glass separating you from the reality outside. You awaited his lips to part. You waited to listen to him speak. His eyes weren't revealing anything about what he was thinking, what was going on.
Something about the realization struck fear into your heart. In the span of a single instant, darkness surrounded your vision. Images appeared in the blur of your sight again.
The petals of red Geraniums floating in the sky, a boy running through blood-stained sands, the time speeding up and slowing down in fits and starts, streaks of green and red staining your dilated eyes, stars exploding, lights flashing, sparking, and then it's all darkness and Vash's screams.
You shook your head.
The images disappeared, but the heartaches and fears lingered, and you had to keep reminding yourself to breathe. Your lungs begged for air, but you looked around for Vash instead.
It seemed he wanted to scream, but you knew the words wouldn't leave his mouth. Those thoughts would expand in his head, explosive and angry, pressing against the ridges of his mind, and then he would hide them behind a smile. As he always did.
"Vash?" you called, just before witnessing how a car's radio sound from the street ripped open his past, pulled out what was left of his heart, and dropped it on the floor.
"… been two years since that fateful July 21st. A crowd has gathered at what used to be the third city of July to pay their respects. Even after two years, the pain of losing their loved ones has yet to heal. The suspect said to have murdered 90 percent of the city, also known as the Humanoid Typhoon, still remains at large. Vash the Stampede is on the run. If I were the demon who turned the whole city into a gaping crater overnight, I'd hide my face too. There is no forgetting the sorrow of loved ones taken from us. The Alliance of Cities has raised the dead or alive bounty on Vash the Stampede to $$60 billion, the highest in the history of…"
The loud words bounced around in the haze of your head, fogging your senses, misting your eyes, and clouding your concentration. In your bones, there was just ice. Your entire being wanted to vomit. Reality slapped you in the face, punched you in the jaw, and dumped you into sand oceans. You grasped the nightstand to keep yourself steady. The orange shades fell on the floor, leaving a big crack on display.
Vash was shaking his head over and over and over and over. He was looking at his hands like he would see some blood on them, as if waiting for the part where someone would tell him this wasn't real and he didn't actually kill those 200,000 innocent people.
Oh, my beloved.
The pain was so plain on his face; it was killing you. Your gaze was drawn to the balled fists at his sides, the furrows in his brow, and the tension in his jaw. Minutes ago, this man was free, but now he was a prisoner of his own crime. In your heart, you wished you could release him from the claws of self-reproach.
Having seen his terror too often, you knew it well.
Sometimes, even when he was asleep, his tormented mind would grip his heart, and such emptiness and sadness would fill him that you felt he was suffocating, as if his sleepless nightmares never had an end.
You didn't know him before,
but
you
thought
he
had
lost
a
bit
of
himself
on
the
day
of
July
incident.
As time passed, you assumed he had finally learned not to dwell on what had happened. You imagined he avoided it like a cripple learning not to put weight on his injured leg.
However, deep down, you knew he was living on eggshells, always wondering when something would break, when everything would crumble. You always dreaded this day. This silence. It was not just an ordinary silence caused by the lack of things that moved or made noise, but a deep and tired silence that sometimes covered him like an invisible cloak—like the one ruling between your shared walls right now.
Stacks of sorrow had grown inside him, settling on his bones and snapping him in half. A cable twisted around his neck, a worm crawling across his stomach. It was the night, midnight, and the twilight of indecision. Too many pains to bear.
How naive of him to think he could slip into the role of a regular being and live a normal life in love and peace.
Vash.
Vash the stampede with a dream.
The mere thought of it filled him with mortification. He began to think others were right when they said things like him were better off destroyed.
Shaking his head, he coughed against the torture in his lungs, heaving strange, horrible gasps until his whole body spasmed into submission, leaving him sitting on the bed's edge like a sack full of nothingness. The old gunman looked as if he might collapse, barely breathing, his life-force being torn asunder.
You felt like your throat was closing up. You knew the infamous humanoid typhoon was everything broken and glued back together, and now knives bore holes into his cracked bones, filled with grief that could take his breath away.
Your face was drained of color, your ears ringing with your heart pounding. His desperate screams from your nightmare echoed in your head as if on repeat. His agony was acute. His terror palpable. Tears sprung to your eyes. It was painful to look at him, being so close and far away from him.
"Local news. You know how dumb they are," you said, trying to hide your petrified and nerve-wracking thoughts from his reach. What if he never experienced peace? What if there was no sanctuary, and the pain was always a whisper away, no matter where he went?
Pressing your nails to your palm, you continued, "None of that incident was your fault. You know that too. You hear me?"
His eyes widened a little. No one had ever cared about him for this long. No one had kept him ever this closely to read his thoughts word by word. No one had ever treated him like a human being. Then again, he thought you didn't know about all of his sins. In a century and a half, he hadn't been able to forgive himself; how could you? It made him wonder how long you could endure him before running for your life.
His head was spinning, thoughts knocking into one another. He clenched his fists and pushed back down the misery that had stuck with him. Even though he didn't want this, you'd probably be better off without him.
"Vash?" You swallowed and dug your fingers into the sheets desperately, a tear trickling down your cheek. It kept hitting you in the face, in the skull, in the spine, this knowledge of just how much you loved him.
His lips looked like they were barely able to form words. He could only take these harsh gasps and wonder why his body hadn't given up.
On all fours, you approached him and sat on your knees on the edge of the bed with a slight distance between you and him. You knew he wouldn't object, but you didn't want to intrude on his privacy. Thus, you remained silent so that he wouldn't be left by himself, and he would know you wouldn't leave him alone.
09:15 am – July 21st
Time passed, and you checked on him occasionally to see if he wanted to talk until he raised his head slightly.
"I'm a demon," he said the sentence so quietly. So, so quietly. He ran a hand across his face, both hands through his hair, looking like he wanted to scream, to break something, like he was truly about to lose his mind. "The world sees me as a threat. An unfixable monster. An abomination. They want me dead." His voice sounded sorrowful, almost like he had already accepted these labels.
Thousand pieces of feeling stabbed you in the heart. "I don't think you're a demon. Also, I don't think you're some sick, twisted monster. I don't think you're a heartless killer, and I don't think you deserve to die. You're not a humanoid typhoon. No, you're not any of the things people have said about you," you told him, words tripping and stumbling out of you.
His mouth fell closed, struggling with some kind of emotion, struggling to find composure. Suddenly he gasped. "No." One broken word. Barely even a sound. He was shaking his head, looking away from you. He turned to face the window. "No. No, no—"
"Vash—"
"No," he said. His voice was so soft and so scared you could scarcely hear it. "No, you don't know what you're saying—"
"You're not a monster!" you said. "And I love you exactly as you are. I don't even want you to fix yourself; I don't think you need to be fixed. People here love you as you are. Your name is the only thing that scares them," you told him.
You knew people had the right to fear him. You knew. Humanoid Typhoon certainly wasn't made of sugar, spice, and everything nice, but rather from hurricanes, lightning, and all things that scared. Seeing dusty storms and raging winds, people thought he was scary. They feared he would harm them. In truth, he was only his own disaster, destroying himself for others. He was Vash. Your Vash. Vash the Stampede, and you loved him with all his fears and frights, dreams and nightmares, sins and scars.
You smiled and continued, "If they learn your name and start hunting you, we'll run away! We'll run, run, and keep running as far as we have to! And when things calm down, we'll settle by their side again. You won't kill. You'll never kill anyone again, and one day, people will begin seeing you as I do."
Maybe tears filled his eyes. Possibly his breath was trapped in his chest. Perhaps his heart warmed a little. No one knew, not even the author. He had his head down, his chest rising and falling.
You sat behind him. A map of pain had covered his entire back. Thick, thin, uneven, and terrible, scars like roads leading nowhere. There were bolts and ragged slices, marks of torture he was not protected from.
Kindness must be difficult when all you'd received was hatred. Being able to see goodness in the world must be so hard when your only experience had been terror. You wanted to say something to him. Something profound, complete, and memorable, but there was nothing suitable. This planet was a broken bone that didn't set right, and Vash wanted to glue it back together. Alone, all by himself.
You two differed in this respect. Fearless and unafraid were two different things. He was fearless. He dared to outshine the sun, stare down a bullet, kiss death and walk away with his back unguarded. He would hold the whole world in his palms despite its bone-crushing weight, despite its sharp edges crusted with blood, if only he could stop it from falling apart. But you? You were fearful. Sometimes you couldn't breathe around the clot of fear lodged in your throat. The only way to lessen its weight on your tongue was to scream until no words came out, while the only way to chase away its shadows was never to close your eyes at night. You were unafraid of one thing, though —he could tear down the world and bury you alive under the weight of his guilt, yet you would follow him without hesitation.
Your eyes rested upon woven strands of sunlight, alighting softly upon his scarred skin. These honeyed arcing rays gave him a light glimmer that revealed his plant patterns, pulsing slowly and dimly. Something about the scene was so divine, and you felt the dawn rise from your heart every morning and reach the sky.
You hugged him from behind by bridging the gap between your bodies and leaned your cheek against his sun-kissed back. Your hands gently caressed his stomach and chest as your lips left kisses on his love reminiscences—one by one.
You could hear him breathing in and out. Unevenly. Yet he was silent. Hands clenched, knuckles white. Of course, he wanted you with a desperate need he had never known. But his regret, sins, and crimes were so overwhelming they consumed him. He thought, how could you be so kind to a thing like him?
Unaware of the voices in his mind, you dropped a kiss on his spine. You kissed the curve of his shoulder. His shoulder blades. Five kisses down his spine, each softer than the other one. For every little moment of pain he had ever felt in his life, you wanted to make it all go away. You kissed his neck, trying to ignore the tension in his muscles, the ache spreading inside you, urging you to end his suffering.
Your words were heavy with sincerity when you said, "I don't care what everyone else thinks about you." You leaned your forehead to his shoulder, your breaths gently caressing his back. "Because you're the only good thing left in this world."
As his eyes widened, he breathed heavily, trying to gain control of himself. "What are you saying?" he asked, his hand caught in his hair. "How can you tell such a thing this after all this?" His hand pointed to the window, to the news on the radio.
Standing on your knees, you kissed the hand caught between his gold locks. The same hand he always tried to cover its scar with a glove. Because the idiot thought his scars would be repulsive. The idiot. Your favorite idiot.
You didn't sit back. Keeping your head there, your nose buried in his hair, and your chest pressed to his back—this smell. You had never seen a sea, but you had heard about them. And you believed if there was ever to be a sea in this hell hole, he would smell like a sunny beach. Sweet, enveloping, and warm.
"That is—" your voice broke when you spoke. "That's what the family is for, Vash."
A sudden searing heat flashed behind his eyes, and his heart leaped at your response. He dropped his hand on his knee and sat still in place by the weight of your words. His hand trembled, and his eyes were willing and wanting but filled with both sadness and happiness.
A family.
All this time, he thought you were with him all along because you didn't have a grasp on his sins, but now, he could see that you already knew everything. And despite all of this, you were still willing to forgive him and give him something he always wanted but never had without even requiring him to earn it or redeem himself.
You touched his arm and traced the tender skin with your fingertips. Scars everywhere. You kissed the back of his elbow. "I'm sorry for everything humans have done to you," you told him, and he took a shallow breath. "Forgive us." Another kiss. "Forgive me."
A delicate warmth filled Vash's heart and melted it into drops of warm honey that soothed the scars in his soul. He turned his head and stared at you with open, vulnerable eyes, a tight jaw, and tensed muscles. No one had ever apologized to him. According to his experience, he was usually the monster, the wicked one. The onus always was on him to make amends.
It stunned him how strange it felt. Up until now, he never thought he deserved forgiveness, let alone someone asking for it.
Running a tired hand across his face, he wasn't sure what to do with himself. A joy filled his heart, causing him to feel heavy with something he wasn't even sure he could describe.
Gratitude, perhaps.
The ache in his chest had grown more assertive, more painful. But for now, he didn't want to think about it. He simply just wanted to enjoy your proximity.
Your hand reached up to stroke the luminous curved shapes on his cheek, tracing them to the softness of the mole beneath his left eye. The look in those aquamarines breaking your heart. You couldn't bear to see his face covered in sorrow and guilt.
"You're a good man, my Vash," you said, your words soft, your hand gentle as you tilted his chin up toward your mouth. He was blinking fast, yet not denying. You whispered words on his lips that no one had ever spelled out for him. "Rem would've been proud of you," you told him, watching the movement in his throat and his effort to keep it together. It didn't take you long to kiss him once, tenderly.
He found himself at a loss for words, opting to convey his emotions through touch instead as he melded his lips with yours. He sighed into your mouth, and you kissed him even more deeply, almost desperately, as if trying to pass over your breaths to him. You could taste the salt on your tongue. The wet drops falling on your cheeks made your flesh burn. You were uncertain whose they were as you continued to try and cling to him.
10:00 am – July 21st
The sheets slowly slipped and fell to the floor as Vash pulled you into his arms, clutching you tight, hardly able to breathe. When he exhaled and looked at you again, there were stories in his eyes, thoughts, whispers, and feelings of things you had never seen before. His whole body seemed to be relaxed in relief. He looked like he was hanging on his sanity by a single, fraying thread. You.
And you promised yourself, at this moment, that you would hold him forever, just like this, until all the pain, the torture, and the suffering was gone, until he'd given a chance to live the kind of life where no one could ever hurt him this deeply ever again.
He touched your cheek. Soft, as if he wasn't sure if you were real. His four fingers caressed the side of your face gently before they slipped behind your neck, caught in that in-between spot below your ear, and his thumb brushed the apple of your cheek, then grazing your bottom lip.
You did so much with these lips, you thought. Touched, kissed, and pressed them against tender parts of his skin. You made promises, and the words they formed, the shapes and sounds they curved around, all for him.
Vash moved closer by just an inch. His free metallic hand cupped the other side of your face. He was holding you like you were made of crystals. Holding you and looking at his own hands, he couldn't believe you were real.
Gone was the man with guns and bullets. These hands treasuring you had never held a weapon. They were perfect and kind, never touched by death. He took your hands and pressed your palms to his face. Tears must have welled up in your eyes when you closed them.
You whispered his name, and he breathed harder than you.
Could this be a dream?
You shook, shuddered, splintered into teardrops, and he held you like no one had before. He wanted you. Seeing him cling to you as he might never let go did something to you, something heady, knowing that he might wish you, or need you, like this, made you want to protect him even though he didn't need your protection.
Gently, he stroked your hair and pressed his lips to your forehead. Gradually, his arms became the arms around your waist; his lips became the lips pressed against yours, his body the warmth you felt.
You weren't even breathing, but you were alive, and he was kissing you. Deeply, desperately. The palms of his hands were rubbing the small of your back as he lifted you into his lap. Your legs automatically wrapped around his hips, allowing him to kiss your neck, throat, and nipples.
You broke apart with his small licks here and there, breathing hard, and stared at him like a bonehead, your brain still too numb to figure out exactly how you two got here.
Tilting his head to a side, he pressed his lips against yours again, seeking you with a burning need, a new kind of desperation. His hands were threaded in your hair, his lips so soft, so urgent against yours, like fire and cinnamon exploding in your mouth.
Vash nibbled your bottom lip in a flash and pulled back just a little bit. Your body was flooded with heat and desire so intense you could hardly think when he parted his lips from you to sigh in your mouth, and that slight sound of pleasure drove you crazy.
Putting one hand under your neck, placing his mouth on your breast, and running his fingers down your back, he pressed your body closer, only to find something hard pressing against your groin.
Oh.
Well.
While he avoided your gaze, he smiled sheepishly and tentatively touched your thighs with his hands. Because of what had happened, you knew he would probably feel embarrassed to ask for it, but that didn't mean you wouldn't give it to him. He deserved the whole world if you had the chance to provide for him. His markings were glowing softly when you squeezed him closer to yourself, holding him tighter.
Biting his lip and stifling his groan, his smart-ass hands slid up your legs and into your thighs. Soon, his lips reached your chest. Your body ached everywhere, tasting colors and sounds you didn't even know existed. His forehead was pressed against your chin, and your hands gripped his shoulders. He was hot, gentle, and somehow in a hurry.
You were beyond the reach of rational thoughts. Beyond words, beyond comprehension. The world was beyond understanding because nothing could ever compare with this. Nothing could ever capture the way you were feeling right now. Nothing mattered anymore. You were left with only this moment: his mouth on your body, his hands on your skin, and his lust deep in his eyes, making you absolutely insane.
Your wetness was no longer a secret when he surrounded you everywhere. As he watched you, you reached down and adjusted his length against your slippery entrance over a few strokes. His pulse could be felt in your palm and soon inside of you.
Using both soft and hard hands, he gently grasped your hips and pulled you down toward him. As he entered, you gasped, every time surprised at his size, clinging desperately to his neck as he hitched your legs around his waist, his prosthetic arm settling beneath your thigh. You loved the feeling of him stretching you. You loved having him this close to you. You loved the way he manhandled you. You loved his hand around your neck and the little squeeze of his fingers around your nape.
His grip tightened when he sensed you were ready for him, and he started moving you up and down. You cried out and leaned your cheek to his nose, dying and somehow being brought back to life in the same moment, in the same breath.
Fuck! You were full of him.
He lifted your thighs, and you bit back the moan stuck in your throat. His mouth wouldn't let go of your skin, kissing you with an intensity that made you wonder why you hadn't died, caught on fire, or woken up from this dream yet. Then he returned his hands to your face and kissed you once, twice.
The room's silence was filled with your heavy breathing, your chest against Vash's. Your pulses hammered against each other. You felt his arms around you become unbearably tight as he yanked you up and down with even more force than before, hitting you in a place he seemed to know too well.
As his teeth caught your bottom lip momentarily, you pushed your nails to his shoulder, running your fingers through his hair to pull him into your mouth. He tasted so sweet. So hot and sweet. You kept trying to say his name, but you couldn't even breathe, much less say a single word.
The pace increased slightly; each thrust was hard, deliberate, wringing gasps, whimpers, and long, rolling moans from you.
Your eyes tingled with tears, falling fast down, traveling quietly down your cheeks, and he cupped your face in his hands, his thumbs two parentheses in your mouth, against your tongue and saliva. As if he had found Adam's ale between million mirages of the desert, he stared at you, his eyes like fire in the water.
"I love you," he whispered over and over, his voice fragile, uneven. His lips covered yours in a tender kiss. He kissed you and tasted your tears, the lingering flavor of pleasure laced in your mouth. He kissed you and kissed you until time toppled over, and your head spun into oblivion.
Vash loved you…
His temple was leaned against yours when you took his earlobe between your teeth, stripped him to his bones, and ruined him from the inside out. Your sweet little tongue was frantic when you whispered, "I'm yours to love."
Hearing your words, he held still for moments, sucking in the air because he felt almost dizzy with satisfaction, running his hands over your thighs.
You. You were his. You, the one who knew if you left him alone at that moment, would fall into the depths of his own hell; if he'd slipped through your fingers, he would be gone, and no one could bring him back. You did not erase all his pain or offer to solve all his problems. You didn't fix everything that was broken, but that wasn't what he needed anyway. What mattered the most was that you stayed.
He loved you.
He loved you so much.
Grasping your soft hips, he buried his face against your shoulder and sped up. You were his undoing, taking him apart and putting him back together differently, better, and more himself than he ever could have been. He gritted his teeth as his orgasm came barreling at him. His hands glided on your back when you shuddered, your inner walls squeezing him so hard he couldn't prevent his release. With a growl, he thrust wildly, once, twice—and then everything around you both disappeared until it was all just colors and light, the sun shines and oceans, apple trees, and blossoms.
Your eyes were still closed, and you felt his hands laced with yours, just to remind you that you had him here and that he was with you. Your partner in everything. His chest heaving, he buried his face in your neck, sweat covering his temples. Kissing him there, you inhaled the scent of his hair.
"You're my family too," you heard him whisper, his words etched into your soul as his lips moved against your skin. And you wished, more than ever, that you could capture moments like this and relive them forever.
12:50 pm – July 21st
You woke up with a smile, your skin still hot from the memory of your vile. You were cleaned with a wet towel, placed in bed with a kiss, and promptly fell asleep. Thankfully, no nightmares this time.
What time was it? You didn't know.
As you stretched your legs under the sheets, you realized your back was against Vash, his prosthetic arm resting on your pillow, the other tucked around your waist. Knowing he had held you this close warmed the pit of your stomach and made you feel so safe that you didn't ever want to move, but you had a thousand things to do today, but you never, ever wanted to move.
Truth be told, you loved these moments the most. The quiet contentment. Being enveloped by his naked body. You never felt closer to him than you did like this when there was nothing between you.
Today was a big day delayed by your nightmare and the sound of that stupid radio! There was no way you were going to let anything overshadow his birthday anymore. Even for a few hours, he deserved this celebration, this little distraction. He deserved to be happy, eat, and laugh.
You sighed, hating to wake him up since he seemed pretty tired. Slowly, you turned around in his arms. A smile tugged at your mouth as you watched him, amazed at how his presence could bring you such peace. He shifted again, burrowing deeper into the pillows, and you realized he must be exhausted.
Watching the movement of his throat, you breathed him in, running your hands along the deep, strong lines of muscle in his arm. His entire being felt raw. Powerful. Being a plant had something wild and terrifying about it; somehow, this knowledge only made you love him more. You traced the contours of his shoulder blades, then his spine. He stirred, but only briefly, and buried his face in your hair.
"Don't go," he whispered softly, pressing his nose to your scalp alongside his lips.
You tilted your head, gently kissing the column of his throat. "Vash," you whispered. "I'm not going anywhere."
Taking a deep breath, he said, "good."
You smiled. "Oh, but we should probably get out of bed. I promised Rosalina I'll help—"
A disapproving sound escaped his throat as he shook his head, deftly helping you turn around. He hugged you close again, your back pressed against his chest. Soft and husky, his voice was full of desire when he said, "C'mon, let me enjoy this. Feeling good."
"You don't want a cake?" you blurted out, but it certainly caught his attention.
You could feel he raised his head, stiffened and confused. "How come Rosalina's making me a cake?"
Did you hear correctly? Had he forgotten about his birthday? Did this day become neglected to the point where it was forgotten?
Turning around, you saw he was sitting, his body frozen and his heart probably pounding furiously. Getting him to attend his birthday would take more effort than you expected. Because he asked how you could possibly plan a party for him, why anyone would throw him a party, what if he didn't even like birthday parties, and so on. Still, you didn't fall short. Since the day he told you about Rem making them a cake for their birthday, you kept track of his birthday. The July incident wasn't going to overshadow his birthday. It was your vow to replace that memory with better ones. That forever and ever, you'd strive to drown out the darkness that had ruined his life.
In his eyes, tragedy and beauty could be seen, a stoicism that wouldn't be shaken, and childlike joy that couldn't help but flow. When he swallowed, you noticed the gentle movement in his throat and moved your hand to his ear, your pinkie touching his earring, then tracing down his jawline. You didn't receive a rejection, but you didn't receive a yes, either. Why wasn't he saying anything? He had you on your worried until he clasped his hands over his face.
Your hand brushed against his undercut as you gently kissed his temple and tried to pry his hands away from his face. "Vash?" you said, your words hardly a whisper. "Is everything alright?"
The reply took him a few seconds to come out, but when he finally did, he nodded. It was only once, but it was enough. "Yeah," he said softly. "I'm okay."
The feeling of relaxation washed over you as you exhaled. "If you don't want a—"
He held and squeezed your hand as he looked at you, his eyes round when he said, a little nervously, "what have I done," he whispered, his voice trembling, "to deserve you?"
Did you die of joy? Because he took your face in his hands and kissed you so passionately, it blew your mind. Your heart began to beat violently, and you didn't recognize yourself. You didn't recognize your hands, your bones, your heart. You felt new. "Thank you," he whispered. "For loving me and everything."
"It's very, very easy to love you, Vash," your lips might have said, but the words never left your lips. You didn't know what to do, so you reeled him in, kissed him, and lost yourself in his taste and feel, in the fantasy of what you might have. What you might be.
But wait! Didn't you know fate was a jealous, vicious mistress that never ever slept?
You blinked.
You blinked again, but this time for too long. You saw a flash of blood spewing inside your open mouth. Nausea returned with a swiftness that scared you. A breath was drawn, your fingers fluttering as you desperately tried pressing them against your stomach. Pain filled your eyes as you kept them open. Clenching your fists, you attempted to control spiraling thoughts.
However, nothing helped. Nothing helped. Nothing, you thought. Nothing, nothing, and nothing.
Where was Vash? Where were you?
Throughout your open eyes, terror oozed from your heart. You heard someone calling your name. A hand brushed lightly along your spine as you shivered suddenly at the unexpected sensation.
" …," the voice said, "do you … ?"
The warmth moved in only to meet the coldness of your skin. You felt it all. Again and again, a touch of his finger did pull you out of your nightmare.
A rustle of sheets caught your attention, and Vash pulled you onto his lap. Straddling him, your legs stretched across the rumpled fabric. Wrapping his arm around you, he spread his hand along your back.
It was just a dream. It was just a dream. It was just a dream.
Turning carefully in the cradle of his arms, you pressed your forehead to his bare chest, your eyelashes fluttering against his rough gash.
"You okay?" he asked, his metallic fingers combing through your hair in a soothing act.
"Yes," you replied, forcing air into your lungs. You were breathing hard, head spinning as you held on to him. "Yes."
"Is something wrong, Elay?" He probably had lowered his head because his breath was touching your shoulder.
"Nothing," you claimed. Your heart was beating fast, too fast. You didn't know why you were lying. You should have just told him, but you didn't know why you weren't.
Wait.
Actually, you knew.
You were waiting.
You were waiting to see if this shit would pass. It had to, because today was a special day. Because you were already exhausted, and the radio's sound was repeating in your ears. Because you didn't want to add another burden to his shoulders with your silly nightmare. Even more, it wasn't real. Just a figment of your imagination, and saying it out loud would make it sound more real than it really was.
Vash asked no further questions. He was more of an "if you love someone, let them keep their secrets to themselves " guy. He pulled you close, and you melted into him, grateful for his warmth and steady hold. You took a deep, shuddering breath and let it all go, exhaling against him. A faint aroma of caramel lingered in your nostrils as you breathed in his skin's rich, heady scent. The minutes passed silently as you both listened to each other breathe.
01:45 pm – July 21st
It took a while, but your heart rate steadied.
You could feel it.
Here.
This.
Your bones against his bones. This was your home.
"What're you thinking?" His lips touched your neck, a graze that sparked, hot and cold, right down to your toes.
"Been thinking about you." You raised your head and looked at him. He was smiling, the unfaltering sun glinting in his eyes. You could see his fear, hopes, and love for you like a mirror to his soul in those mountain lake-colored spheres. Then there was something else as well—something like bliss. It was a faint glow, but it was there and made you so happy. You had blessed the blessing. He deserved happiness after everything he had been through. After all the horrors he had suffered alone.
"Me?"
As you closed the gap between you two again, you nodded against his chest. Nothing was said, but you could hear his heart racing until he exhaled. It was a heavy, uneven sound, as if he might have been holding his breath for too long.
Gently, you ran your hand along his back. "How long has it been since you celebrated your birthday?" you whispered.
"Hm?" He buried his face in your hair, and his nose glided over your scalp in what appeared to be caressing movements.
It didn't take a genius to figure out when he was ducking a question. You wiggled a little to loosen his grip and looked up. Your fingers ran through the soft, silky strands. The sight of him mesmerized you. His eyes were wide and bright. His lips soft and pale. He was perfect, bare, and beautiful, holding you in his arms. Sighing, you closed your eyes. "Let me ask it this way then," you said, "How many birthdays have you missed so far?"
Nothing came out of his mouth for what seemed like an eternity. You felt him finally move. In a gentle caress, his prosthetic fingers touched your face. "150 birthdays," he whispered, his voice uneven.
Your spine tingled involuntarily. 150 years of solitude. Loneliness. Alone with himself. On this giant planet. Where was his home? Where were his friends? His lovers?
You knew he was so much better at being alone as if being alone came more naturally. He led a life of deliberate seclusion, and when occasional loneliness crept in, he knew how to sink in and absorb its particular comforts or work his way out. After all, there were always bars and saloons and strangers around.
You knew he wanted to carry the weight of life all alone, even the burden of those he once loved. It wasn't fair, though. You had to be allowed to help him carry it all. A frown formed on your face, and you inhaled, "Happy birthday #1! Happy birthday #2! Happy birthday #3!..."
His metallic forefinger stopped your lips. Slowly, you looked up to meet his eyes. His expression was sad, sweet, and filled with love. You felt something thawed inside of you as you stared at him.
"You don't have to do this," he said as he separated his finger from your lips to brush away stray strands of hair from your face. A part of you wished his finger could stay there longer.
"Shut up and let yourself celebrate! We've got at least 150 birthdays to catch up on!"
He kissed your eye, and you felt his smile on your eyelid. His lips started moving tardily when he said, "I don't—"
"Shhhh! Since you interrupted me, I'm starting over!" you snapped and continued, "Happy birthday #1! Happy birthday #2! …"
The smile on his face grew bigger and bigger, as if he was filled with so much joy that he hardly recognized himself. You couldn't recall the last time he smiled this much. It was the most pure, unburdened bliss you had ever experienced.
He held you the entire time you felicitated all his forgotten birthdays. You could see it in how he looked at you. You could feel his fears disappearing and his emotions becoming something else. Now, his touch was hot and electric against your skin. Your heart was beating faster and harder, and he didn't have to say anything. You could feel the temperature change between you.
"You," he said, staring at your mouth. He touched his nose to yours, and something inside you jolted to life. You heard your breath caught, your ears turning red, unbidden. "I love you," he whispered.
The words did something to you every time you heard them. They built something new inside of you. You swallowed hard. A fire consumed your mind. "You know," you mumbled shyly, "It never gets old hearing you say that."
Leaning you back a little, he moved, his nose brushed the line of your jaw, and his lips touched your throat. You were holding your breath, terrified to move, to leave this moment.
"I love you," he said again.
Heat filled your veins. You could feel him in your blood, his whispers overwhelming your senses.
"Vash," you said. You wanted to talk to him about what happened hours ago. You knew you should've moved and snapped out of this but couldn't. You couldn't think. And then his hand brushed against your breasts. You breathed quickly, fighting against a sudden rush of pleasure.
It was impossible to pretend anything when he was this close to you. You knew he could feel how badly you wanted him. You could feel him, too. His heat. His desire. He made no secret of what he wanted from you. What he wanted you to do to him.
He kissed you softly, wrapping his arms around you, one too cold, the other too hot. Your body shifted forward in his embrace as you took another painful, agonizing breath.
"I know you're worried," he said, his lips too close to yours and his hot breath in your mouth. "I know we have to talk, but—" He never finished that sentence. He kissed you as he reached down, trailing his fingers along the inner parts of your thighs, and the movement seared through you. Your vision went white. You heard nothing but the pounding of your heart, then you remembered.
"Vash? Um-I have to-ah," you panted, "she is waiting."
You could feel his smile as he whispered the word in your ear. His fingers were teasing your groins. "Please." And you were gone.
One hand kept your head steady, the other roamed around your loins, and he kissed and melted you. Your eyes met his, and the feeling threatened to drown you. He kissed you, and every thought and worry wicked away, replaced by the feel of his mouth against your skin, his hand claiming your body.
Holy Molly!
He eft his kisses everywhere like he knew, like he knew how desperately you needed this, needed him, needed this comfort and release.
Like he needed it, too.
Taking hold of his neck, you raised yourself up to kiss his nose, cheeks, and lips. The line of your bodies was welded together. You felt yourself dissolving, becoming pure emotion as he parted his lips, teased you, and breathed into your mouth. "I love you," he said, gasping the words.
He kissed the top of your shoulder, and his artificial hand wandered over your body, down your back, cupping your back side, lingering on your upper thighs like he wanted to memorize the shape of you, always leaving you in awe of how gentle he was. Your muscles tightened with longing, and you were surprised at how much you wanted him.
Again.
So soon.
However, you had to stop this.
"I'd better get dressed," you said, pulling yourself back, grabbing sheets, and covering yourself with them. "I've got stuff to do."
A grin spread across his face as he watched you as if he could sense your frustration. You crawled from his lap, the bedsheets catching under your knees and making you lose your composure. Like a sneaky fox, he couldn't resist taking advantage of the moment. He yanked the rest of the sheet away from you and tucked you underneath him. His weight pinned you to the mattress, a knee intentionally jammed between your legs and slowly grinding you down.
"Here's what I want for my birthday," he said, kissing your parted lips. He knew what he was doing and knew you couldn't comprehend his words. "I have this idea. Just hear me out; I think that maybe you should consider being naked all the time. I mean, just always. Okay?"
"Okay. I have to—" What were you saying? He had his mouth all over you, sucking at your breasts, licking your throat, his fingers going straight to your sensitive spots.
The moment he got there, you knew you wouldn't let him go, even if he wanted to. So, you needed to gather your wits and act before it was too late.
Think. Think. Think.
"Vash!" you gasped, pushing him up with your hand as much as possible. "I know you're going nuts like a hunk in heat," you said, holding his cheeks between your hands and staring at his big downturned eyes. "I gotta shower and go to the saloon so you can meet me there at eight, okay, good boy?" You tapped on his shoulder.
With raised eyebrows, Vash got off you, but you remained trapped between his knees. Although he crossed his arms and pretended to be mad, you could see him fighting back a smile. It was amazing how that poor piece of sheet managed to cover his hips; otherwise, you wouldn't have been able to focus on his face.
"You were going to take a shower without me?" he said sternly.
You couldn't figure out what to say for a moment and then carefully asked, "would you like to join me?"
Considering your offer, he gazed at you, up and down, with a sweet, secret smile. The look in his eyes was enough to persuade you to agree to anything. You would do anything for this man if he asked. Even if he didn't bother to ask.
"Vash."
Your heart was heavy as you whispered his name, filled with emotion. You went still as he hovered over you, gently mouthing your nipples. His kisses grow more intent, leaving a trail of fire across your chest, down your torso, and rushing through your veins.
Suddenly, you forgot why you were even in such a hurry.
Your hands slipped around his neck, and you reeled him in. He felt incredible against you, his body fitting perfectly. You tilted his face up, your hand caught somewhere behind his neck and the base of his jaw, and you kissed him softly and slowly, heat filling your blood with dangerous speed.
As one hand held him steady, the other skimmed the smooth skin of your waist, gripping your hip hard. He parted your legs with his thigh, hearing you make a desperate sound deep in your throat, and it did something to him, to feel and hear you like that, to be assaulted by your pleasure and desire. It drove him crazy.
Vash buried his face in your neck, and his hand moved up to feel your breasts' tender skin, hot, soft, and sensitive to his touch. He wanted your body under his hands, the scent of your skin, and the light whisper of your hair against his. Licking your earlobes, he tried to ignore the strain in his muscles and the hard, desperate pressure driving him towards you, toward madness.
An ache was expanding inside you and demanding more, craving him to flip you over and lose yourself in you. You clung to him, your eyes half-lidded, your face flushed. Your breathes were heavy when you said, "take me, Vash."
His eyes widened, and he stared at you like he might be going deaf and blind at the same time, hunching over from the effort of inhaling and exhaling. He said nothing and only looked at you carefully from the top, drinking you in. His pulse was wild, his mind racing. There was no way he could refuse you.
02:50 pm - July 21st
Vash stepped aside, and you pushed the sheets away when he asked you to get up. Soon you were standing in the middle of the room as he had demanded.
He couldn't look away from you and probably couldn't even hear himself think over his heart beating fast like a thud against his skull. Pinning you against the closest wall, he kissed you wild enough for you never to forget why he was called the stampede. His fingers touched every everywhere. Every bend and arc. Every pit and hole. Leaving gentle slaps and smacks on the soft skin of yours.
It was lovely to feel your soft curves against his rough edges, and somehow, the paradox between the smoothness of your bodies pressed against each other made the scene even more surreal. In order not to miss any precious time, he picked you up, and you gasped, shocked, and scrambled to hold on for dear life. He pushed the bathroom door aside with his shoulder and carried you into the shower.
He needed you. Needed this. Now. You could see it in his eyes, in the upward arch of his erection.
He drew a deep, unsteady breath before switching the tap on.
A short scream tore through your throat.
You two got soaked in cold water as he pressed your front against the shower wall, losing himself in you like never before. His kisses were more profound, more desperate, and his hands less considerate than before. The heat more explosive, and everything between you wild, raw, and vulnerable. His mouth devoured you. He had his lips all over your body, his tongue tasting new places.
With the cold tiles touching your breasts, a sensation of pleasure spread throughout your entire body. You could feel it, the bottom half of your body urging you to press against him more deeply and fully. He had to hear the pleas of every cell in your body because his next thrust was so intense that you had to hold on to the wall with your palms to steady yourself while your cheeks pressed more and more against the cold ceramic as he had his way with you.
You lost track of time.
You had no idea how long you had been here. You didn't know how long he had gone haywire in you. Your knees were starting to shake when he turned you around, and your eyes fell on his soaked hair sticking to his forehead and clumping eyelashes blinking slowly. You considered yourself lucky for not only seeing such a marvel but also tasting him and feeling him.
With such hunger, he kissed your lips like he hadn't had them in years. You felt the hard tiles press against your back as he pushed himself inside, without hesitating to move up and down. Over and over again, you were lauded, his panting echoing within four walls.
So many times that you wanted to open your mouth to protest, but every time he took one turgid nipple into his mouth. Heat surged through your blood as his teeth scraped over the end of one, and you moaned instead of complaining. You couldn't stop thinking about how good it felt to feel him inside you, his tongue twirling around your other breast.
The pressure was built. You were consumed by the need to reach the climax in every action. Your stomach muscles were tightening and quivering.
He moved his hands from your hips to your head, tangles of wet hair wrapping around his fingers as he pulled you upwards for a kiss. His tongue immediately thrust past your lips, and he increased his speed.
God! Nothing had ever tasted as good as Vash, you thought. Sensual, decadent, the flavor of him slipped through you.
His hands clenched tighter in your hair, and his teeth bit the flesh of your neck, but you barely noticed, barely caring about the hickey it would leave as he threw back his head, groaning your name. The sight of him in the throes of his peak drove you to the edge, your inner muscles clamping around his hardness, pulling him in deeper.
You cried out, clutching his shoulders so tightly that your fingernails dug into his skin, and your screams were muffled against his chest. The plunk of shower water running between your feet could be heard as your body shook, and he leaned his forehead against your head.
His hot released load was dripping and sliding down on your thighs when you collapsed into his arms, feeling weak and unsteady. He held you close to himself, tight yet so gentle, stroking your wet hair with his fingers and leaving small pecks wherever he could reach. "We should eat something," he said, kissing the curve of your shoulder and the sides of your neck.
You were intoxicated by the pure, stunning power of his emotions, endless waves of love and desire, love and kindness, love and joy, love and tenderness.
So much tenderness.
You pressed your cheek against his chest and held him as he braced himself against the wall. Your bodies were wet and heavy with feeling, your hearts pounding with something more powerful than you had ever imagined possible.
Water was dripping from the mess of his hair. So gorgeous, you thought. Then you forgot where you were and what you were going to do. Your arms and limbs trembled slightly, and he was too terrified to let you go.
Too in love to let you go.
07:15 pm - July 21st
As night fell, the blue haze of the day lifted and revealed the stars brightening the sky, shining like beams of happiness, appearing still as an old photograph. The wind blew Vash's hair into a tousled bun.
He walked out of his favorite shop and leaned against the wall with a big bag of donuts and an even bigger smile. Yeah, he perfectly knew he would eat cake, but eating donuts had nothing to do with it: a warm-up, just appetizers.
His eyes followed the long shadows of townies milling around under the flickering lamppost lights, even though he couldn't make out any faces from such afar. He liked this town. It was so small that his typhoon hadn't yet found it. Or maybe because he was a stranger here. Nobody knew him, and everybody was safe from the curse his name carried around.
Everybody but you.
You already had been spelled by those fifteen letters.
V-A-S-H-T-H-E-S-T-A-M-P-E-D-E
Taking a look around, he tried to find a clock on a building or something. The birthday boy didn't want to be late. This and, of course, the words you uttered before you left the house:
"Eight o'clock, Vash. Don't forget! Don't be late! Don't be early and wear that white shirt. See you there!"
He sighed and took a donut from the bag, careful not to stain his white shirt with his clumsiness. It smelled great. What a heavenly aroma, smelling like honey. This and you and this town. It sure felt good to see happy people around.
Without further ado, he took a bite of his sugar-coated donut.
He expected it to taste incredible and super tasty, like being alive, but he couldn't feel it. There was a sense of numbness in him. The weight of an unknown worry was heavy against his heart.
A muffled whistle-like sound echoed in the distance, followed by several. Another shot rang out, this time sounding like it was meant. Suffocating silence, creaking doors, and screams that tore the sky open.
He felt strangely dull, as if his connection with his body had been cut off. The bag fell to the ground, and the donuts scattered around. People were crying, weeping, but all he could hear was the wind's wails in his ears, slapping sharply against his face.
He took uncertain steps forward. The area outside the saloon looked like more than a graveyard. It was worse than he had expected. There were injured people everywhere; some collapsed on the ground.
From where he stood, he counted two men, one woman, and a child dead. Open eyes, mouths agape, fresh blood still dripping down limp bodies. Where were you? Something about that realization struck fear into his veins.
The horrifying possibilities flashed through his mind. His mind was blank as to what had happened. Were you okay?
Vash looked over the crowd, still staring, waiting for you to show up. Waiting for you to find him. But you weren't anywhere to be found. In the chaos, he ran from one to another, people scattered around, and he didn't see you. The terror of this moment kicked him in the gut.
So many thoughts were tangled in his head that he couldn't untie the insanity. He glanced back at the doors you were supposed to come out, opening it with a smile.
He waited. He waited longer than was reasonable. Then he called you. Quietly at first, then louder. He shouted your name. His chest was being torn apart by fear, squeezing his heart. A part of him was afraid to speak the words aloud, fearful of making them true.
His legs felt like they had been formed from fresh clay, like he was moving through a fog. His voice reached everyone, pleading this time, running forward until the doors were in his line of sight.
"Is she in?" he asked, but no one answered. Everybody was frozen by the agony of the moment. All that could be heard were silent weeps and the wind howling.
Vash gulped, his throat all dry, and walked in; his lips parted, his eyes wide and horrified. The blood in his veins all ice.
Pain.
It began at his feet, bloomed up his legs, unfurled in his stomach, and worked its way up to his throat, only to explode behind his eyes. The sudden scream ripped itself from his lungs. It wrenched free from his chest without warning, without permission, and it was a scream so loud, so hard and violent, it broke his back. His hands were pressed against his knees, his head half bent.
Echoes of his misery would never be lost in the wind or carried away by the clouds but would always live between these walls. Forever.
His voice was unfamiliar to him. The horror, shock, and dread that flooded his body was something he had never felt — never known before, not like this.
The popped balloons on the walls. A half-ruined cake on the counter. Blood-stained confetti all around. A shoeless foot lying on the floor. Locks of tousled hair slipped from the makeshift shroud.
The numbness was now merciful, at least for a few moments. Then, everything crashed.
Vash fell next to the body. The knowledge rushed up in him, choking off his breath. Another scream tore its way out. Then another, and another. It felt as if his very essence had been ripped from him.
He pulled you into his arms, clutching you tightly, barely able to breathe. His fingers seized your hair and yanked it from your face. The golden strands of his hair fell onto your bloody face. You were called over and over, but it didn't seem like anything more than a sound. His pleas were like commands, begging you to open your eyes, but you ignored them as if playing a nasty prank.
Vash held both of your hands in his. There was no touch. All he felt was an empty coldness. The silence grew even louder, consuming him like a pitch-black shadow. Biting his lip, he tasted a faint metallic taste on his tongue. The desperation in his expression, the grief carved into his features, the way he looked at you as if he were about to pass the gates of hell and utter his last farewell.
Suddenly, he wanted to laugh one of those strange, high-pitched, delusional laughs that marked the end of sanity. Because this world, he thought, had a terrible sense of humor. It always seemed to mock him, making his life more miserable and ruining his dreams by destroying everything he ever loved.
You were dead. This pain was truly real.
Vash broke apart. Sobs cracked open his chest and cried until the pain spiraled and peaked; he bawled until his head throbbed and his eyes swelled. His fingers dug into your back as he called, desperate for a sign of hope. Your hollow body was clutched to his heart, and he felt the injustice roared through him. The feeling fractured him apart. His forehead pressed against your cheek, and his mouth trembled as he whispered, "C-Come ba-ck." The words fell apart. He could only mumble stuttering sounds.
He kissed your knuckles briefly. Would you have blushed if you were still breathing, whining about how cheesy he was being? He could only imagine your reactions now.
Hot tears streamed down his face, and he squeezed his eyelids shut in an effort to make them stop. He sat there unmoving for quite some time with choppy breathing and watery eyes.
09:00 pm - July 21st
Things were in a state of disarray in his vision. People were coming in with dropped shoulders and muffled weeps in the air. Someone approached and touched his shoulder for comfort, and a fierce unknown rage emerged in him. He could kill the man there but would have to let go of you, and he couldn't.
Vash turned his face back and held you so tightly like you would be able to feel the faint beat of his heart. He wept, cradling you, and he wouldn't move nor speak a word other than your name. It was like seeing the sun through the water. His tears fell, but you wouldn't be able to kiss them away this time.
"How dare you mourn her!" Someone bent over him. "You killed her!" Weak fists landed on his back but hurt him more than torture and shots. "She died because of you! You bring misfortune and destruction everywhere you go!" yelled Rosalina with a devastated voice.
Words, he thought, were such unpredictable creatures. No gun, knife, army, or enemy could ever be more powerful than a sentence. Blades may cut and kill, but words would stab and stay, burying into the future, digging and failing to rip his skeletons from his flesh. These weren't nice things to say. Not now. Not after what he was going through. Not when his white shirt was covered in your blood, and his hands burned with the bit of warmth left in your body.
Vash continued to hold you, silent and steady, even as the tears receded, even when he began to tremble. He had you tight as his body shook, held you close when the tears started anew, held you in his arms, and stroked your hair, whispering, "Forgive me. Forgive me. Forgive me." His voice was a terrible thing, cracked and broken.
He felt guilty. Anyone who got close to him was doomed to die. He thought his actions and inactions always took away his loved ones. Oh, stubborn, stubborn Vash! Of course, he would blame himself for something that had nothing to do with him.
The once happy eyes of Rosalina spilled hot tears on his shirt. "For two years, you lived among us, looked into our eyes every day, and lied about who you are, Vash the Stampede!"
Several gasps were heard from the crowd, followed by whispers filling the air.
Vash the stampede was here.
Chaos.
Questions flew, and weeps were muffled. Everyone was shocked, horrified, freaking out. You had long been forgotten, he thought.
"Is he the most wanted Vash the Stampede?"
"Were there raids in the saloon because of him?"
"The bounty hunters were after the money on his head?"
"They shot us and ran away because of this man?"
"This guy really had us fooled!"
"Is this true?"
Vash's reality was too broken, too distracted to process these kinds of talks. This horrible instant was one mess of insanity in his mind. He couldn't make any sense of it. He didn't answer a word to anyone and just stroked your cold cheek with as much gentleness as he could.
Someone shouted, "What's the hell's the matter with you? Say something. At least make some excuse!"
"Shame on you for bringing danger to our town!"
"We've heard enough of your crying!"
"At least have the decency and go die like a man!"
"No normal human being could cause all these horrible things! He had to be a monster! Who else could have been responsible?"
"Did you feel some of the pain of people who died because of your reckless behaviors?"
He was dying, he thought. He must be. He thought he knew what death was like, but he must have been wrong because this was a whole different kind of dying—a whole different kind of pain.
"That girl died protecting this demon?"
"She knew about the humanoid typhoon all this time." The man gulped and pointed at your dead body. "Our loved ones are dead and hurt because of her stupid devotion to this walking disaster!"
The scene was quite unbelievable, horrifying. His mind reeled, incapable of comprehending or processing what he was hearing. Everything in him came to a halt while his thoughts caught up. It was for him that you died. The shock brought a quietness, a moment to gird his soul for what would come. Truth poured gasoline on the spark of denial in his belly, burning him alive. It fashioned itself into a knife and stabbed him in the eye. And the funny thing was, he didn't want to do anything to stop it. Anguish was all that remained of you; he embraced it with all he was. He deserved it. So he bled with a smile on his face, wishing the pain to end him this time.
"If that self-righteous whore had revealed his whereabouts, not only would she be alive now, but the others wouldn't be dead either!"
Blackness seemed to press against his eyes, ears, and throat. He couldn't breathe, hear, or see clearly, and the suffocation of the moment was so terrifying that he was almost sure he had lost his mind.
How many insults can one person take before throwing in the fucking towel? For him, that number was infinite, but for you, he wouldn't allow even one.
He stood up and grabbed a fistful of the man's shirt. He pointed a gun at the infamous criminal, but Vash ripped the gun out of his hand. "What did you say about her?" he asked with a voice like a rusty saw that wanted to cut the bone. His jaw was clenched, and his eyes were burning in absolute rage. Nobody had seen him like this. Not once. People were so used to his calm and kind demeanor that this side of him scared them. If they wanted a typhoon, they'd get one. He was fortified with a new kind of anger, a desperate, animal intensity that overpowered him and forced him to stand still.
The man was trembling in his grip. "N-nothing," he finally said. Vash's pulse was racing, breathing heavily, almost like he would burst. The muscles in his hand tensed, causing him to crack his knuckles. Almost like a blazing inferno, his blood boiled in his veins, burning him from the inside out. He was mainly angry with himself, but that wouldn't stop his urge to hunt each and every single one of those bounty hunters, just to make sure they suffered and felt a lot of pain, just like he felt. No longer did he want to show sympathy to anyone. Maybe he was really a monster, wasn't he?
"If they learn your name and start haunting you, we'll run away! We'll run, run, run, and keep running as far as we have to! And when things calm down, we'll settle by their side again. You won't kill. You'll never kill anyone again, and one day, people will begin seeing you as I do."
Recalling your words, his eyes widened, and his fist loosened. The man's face was devoid of color. Vash tried to read his eyes for something but saw nothing but terror in the end. He was afraid.
No.
Your race was merciless. How could they say such a thing about one of their own? This man probably deserved the worst, but you didn't want Vash to be cruel, only to be kind. And he couldn't do this to you. Because if he did and an afterlife existed, you'd probably be the only sad person in heaven right now.
Dropping the man on the floor, Vash crushed his gun in his hand and tossed it away. The stranger was groaning and hunching over when he returned to you.
It was the first time Rosalina had seen him like this, her brain unable to digest or process this information. Unlike the man she knew, this one had cold, sharp eyes only focused on you. The look on his face was different. Scary, even. Somehow that worried her even more. She might be sad for you, even hate her people for having talked disparagingly about you; maybe she would give them a piece of her mind and grieve your loss. Maybe. Right now, though, her child's safety was her top priority, and this blood-stained man didn't look very stable.
"Listen, we don't want to die! Leave here and never come back!"
Vash sat by your side, helpless, as if something had broken inside him and all his emotions had poured out. When you left him alone, did you take some part of him with you?
"Get her out of this town. This disaster would've never happened if you hadn't stumbled into this town. She'd still be alive," Rosalina said firmly, staring at your peaceful face like you were in a deep sleep.
Vash didn't answer or even glance at the woman who wanted to help you celebrate his birthday. Like an orphan, he pulled you impossibly close, your bodies soldering together. He pondered Rosalina's words and the night he saw you and wondered whether your life would have been different if he hadn't met you. Who was even capable of answering this? As he whispered your name and begged you for forgiveness, his tears washed the blood from your cheeks, and Rosalina felt something inside her die. As she watched him willingly take all blame upon himself alone, as if he was already familiar with this feeling, she felt something break apart inside her.
Vash resembled his wanted posters now. A tall man with blond hair covered in red, but this time, it was your blood instead of his famous coat. His hands were trembling so hard he couldn't even recognize them anymore. Even so, he picked you up, cuddling you in his arms, only to notice the hickey on your neck from hours ago. Pain cramped his joints, breaking away every single bone in his body. He wanted to shriek through the sky; he wanted to fall to his knees again and sob into the ground. He didn't know why the agony wasn't finding an escape through his tears.
"Think way back. Remember that story I told you? About the man that found a blank ticket that could take him anywhere he wanted? That man is all of us. Where you go is yours to choose. You'll always have that ticket in your pocket, no matter what darkness life throws at you. When you're ready, write down the destination. I promise you. You'll be alright."
He wished Rem was right, but there was no such concept as happiness in this world. There was only endless strife, destruction, and death. There was only loneliness, pain, and regret. Whatever he did, no matter how much he pleaded, no matter how much he wished with all his heart to make things right, life always had a way of taking everything from him.
It seemed like Vash the Stampede's life had peaked, and nothing that came after you would ever matter to him. Because for him, there was before you, and there was during you, but he didn't want any after you. You were the light he never knew he needed. He was lost in the darkness, wandering life without direction. Then he found you, and you brought him warmth and light. You were the one who saved him. Twice and he couldn't do the same.
As he walked forward, he pleaded with his bones to remain steady, to carry him through the rest of the day and into the rest of his meaningless life. He passed through the crowd as if he had never been a part of them. The sand dragged under his feet, his knees weak, but he held you tight and walked away. His footprints grew smaller and smaller until there was only the empty silence of a long, lonely night.
Let's let him be for now. Everyone deserves to be left alone for a moment or two, right? Be that as it may, he always lost his most precious ones on his birthdays. Maybe it would have been better if he had never been born so that he would not have to endure so much grief alone. Or perhaps it was the way it was so we could be part of his life.
Author note: My real world had grown so dark that I didn't want to live in it. That's why I escaped and spent the day in a world darker than mine. Please accept my sincere apologies for dragging you down here with me ^_^
If you have anything to say, don't be shy to use ASK and the comment sections.
Disclaimers: This fan-written story contains quotes from "The Song of Achilles", "King Killer Chronicles", "Shatter Me" series and "Reminders of him" books, "Hamlet" play, and "I am unafraid with him" poem by pencap on Tumblr.
The arts are from "Trigun Stampede" anime.
#vash the stampede smut#vash smut#trigun smut#vash the stampede x you#vash the stampede x reader#trigun x reader#vash the stampede fluff#vash the stampede angst#vash x reader#vash x you#vash x y/n#vash the stampede#vash stampede x reader#tristamp#trigun fanfiction#trigun stampede#vash stampede#vash the stampede x y/n#vash our beloved#tristamp vash#trigun vash#trigun 2023#trigun 98#vash is babygirl#vash fluff#vash saverem
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Zoro trying to wingman sanuso into dating because their longing for each other is disruptive to his daily routine, only he is completely shit at it because his idea of romance is the unhinged bullshit he has with Luffy. Nami figures out what Zoro is trying to do after 2 months and manages to get Sanji and Usopp together under a week and then Zoro continues suffering because them dating is just as bad as Sanji sighing wistfully after Usopp every hour of the day and Usopp getting distracted by Sanji's legs during bathtime and slipping and almost cracking his head open. Now they just run around calling each other petnames and Sanji handfeeding Usopp food and sitting in his lap and it's making him cringe
This is perfect. Absolutely amazing. Anon, I'd love to kiss your brain.
Zoro is so done with them. He's always been really close to Usopp, so now that he has a crush on Sanji, he's the one dealing with it. It's fucking awful. Because Usopp keeps saying (lying) that he doesn't like Sanji. Then, Zoro goes to Sanji and asks if he likes Usopp and he lies too, because why the hell would he confess his feelings to fucking mosshead of all people? And Zoro has to deal with Usopp being head over heels for the cook every damn day (like, literally, looking for excuses to talk to Sanji. Spending the time in the kitchen with him. Always talking about him when Zoro is around. Flirting with him in the most obvious of ways. Fucking up in battle because he's focused on Sanji. Etc). But the pining isn't the only issue, because there's more. Sanji keeps flirting with women and Usopp is always devastated when that happens or unreasonably angry at everything, frustrated. And Zoro is the one who has to deal with it because for some fucking reason the sniper decided one day that they were best friends and Zoro accepted because he's stupid (and he's regretting all the decisions he made two years ago). Sanji is also fucking annoying because he keeps swooning over Usopp like a dog in heat and he's oh, so in love that it physically hurts to watch. Like, quite literally hurts because he keeps holding himself back from treating Usopp the way he treats his crushes and the frustration always goes to Zoro and they always end up fighting again and again and again. And don't get him wrong, Zoro likes to fight with Sanji. That's their whole thing. But he needs his own personal time too.
So Zoro's like "Fuck it. If these two are not gonna get together on their own, I'll do it myself". But, as you said, his whole concept of romance is really fucked up because his love for Luffy is completely different and the way he shows affection is way more complicated than what Sanuso does. Zoro has the brilliant idea to put both of them in danger so the other will save him, for some reason. It never ends up well and he's the one saving them in the end or he ends up fighting Sanji once again. It's getting even more annoying now. So you can erase "saving each other" from the list, because Zoro does not know how to make plans and it always ends up horribly wrong or with them saving themselves. Then he tries "possessiveness", but ends up erasing that too because unlike him (who's always all over Luffy) both Sanji and Usopp end up having depressive episodes every damn time Zoro says the other likes somebody else or puts that idea in their heads. Fucking idiots with low self-esteem. And so Zoro's like "maybe I can just go and put them in a dark room together" but Sanji apparently is fucking frightened of the dark and Usopp doesn't know how to get out so it's pretty much both of them having panic attacks until Zoro helps them out. And, idk, maybe he even tries to put messages in Usopp's food so he thinks Sanji's the one who wrote them! But he always ends up mistaking the dishes and he doesn't even know how to write stuff with food so it either ends up looking horrible or in the hands of somebody who isn't Usopp. Etc, etc, etc. He's so fucking done-
Nami notices because, unlike him, she isn't stupid. And she gets them together extremely quickly. And it's as easy as:
Nami: Hi, Sanji-san, are you busy tonight?
Sanji: Of course not, my dearest! For you, I'm always free!
Nami: Awesome! And you, Usopp?
Usopp: Huh? Yeah. Well. I think so? Why?
Nami: Great! Well, I am busy. And I had this reservation at this really expensive restaurant on this island? It would be such a waste of food, right Sanji-san?
Sanji: Of course, my angel! I would never!
Nami: Why don't you two go together?
Usopp: Wait- What? Nami- Nami, hey- We talked about this don't-
Sanji: You don't wanna go with me? :( <- Saddest wet cat face ever
Usopp: Of course I do! Who said I didn't?!
Nami: Perfect! It's a date, then!
Usopp: A WHAT?
Sanji: Nami-
And she just- She just fucking leaves without a word.
It turns out surprisingly well... For Sanji and Usopp, of course. Things just get worse for Zoro.
Because it's not only the fact that Nami won't stop reminding him that she was the one who got them together and he wasn't even able to do it. But on top of it all, Sanji and Usopp become the clingiest, sappiest, most annoying couple in the whole world.
He now has to deal with Sanji feeding Usopp and sitting really close at lunchtime. Usopp being extra dramatic and loud when telling stories to impress Sanji and dancing around with him. Sanji cooking all of Usopp's favorite meals at least once a week. Them always making out during bathtime and being extremely touchy. Usopp leaving notes around for Sanji that Zoro always finds first. Sanji fucking yelling all the time to call for Usopp. Them kissing mid-battle or being extremely distracted by each other. Even when they're sitting together as a group, they're sitting on top of each other.
It's disgusting. Not because Zoro hates love or he's cynical or whatever, because he's obsessed with romance. He just hates the fact that they're so loud about it because his perception of love is just so personal and intimate when it comes to Luffy and- And he likes Usopp. He really loves him a lot (platonically). And Zoro doesn't want him to get hurt. The thought is stupid because, despite their rivalry, he trusts Sanji with his life. But it's just weird.
Then I think one day Usopp is having a rough moment. Or perhaps he's the only one who hasn't woken up yet. The point is that he's on one of the bunk beds sleeping and Zoro thinks it's time to check on him. But then he goes into the room, silently enough for neither of them to notice, and stays for a moment on the door staring at the whole situation. Sanji's kneeling on the side of the bed, caressing Usopp's hair and kissing his face and just whispering things Zoro can't hear but knows he isn't meant to hear anyway. And so he walks away and thinks, well, maybe he's been wrong all along and they do have that sort of intimacy. Just in a different way.
And then Luffy comes to him fucking yelling his name and embracing him completely in the middle of the deck (where everybody is) kissing him all over his face and screaming about how excited he is to spend their day together on the next island.
Zoro just has to laugh. Maybe he doesn't have any right to complain about PDA after all.
#i have no fucking idea how the hell this ask ended up being this whole thing#i have to thank anon for the idea bc i loved it as you can see#i am so dramatic i always end up writing whole fics eiddsdukfbsukd#but i just love the concept of sanuso and zolu paralleling each other#one piece#roronoa zoro#black leg sanji#usopp#sanuso#monkey d. luffy#zolu#nami
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So I've been playing around with Cāngjié…
And I thought a post like this (similar to a post on Zhùyīn done by linghxr) may be of interest to some.
Edited: 10 Sep 2023
This post has gotten a little popular lately and on scrutinizing my own post again, I've come to the conclusion that I had made some mistakes in my given character examples.
Amended now. Namely, 「唔」 and 「龍」 have now been swapped over in the examples.
「唔」 is really the “3-parts”, and 「龍」 is indeed a “2-parts” character! Amendments are reflected in orange.
What (and who) is Cāngjié?
For those who may not know, Cāngjié is another way to input 漢字/汉字 (Hànzì — Chinese characters). It is way less popular than Pinyin (or even Zhuyin) but it still has its fans, and has a few advantages over the other two.
Cāngjié is also the name of the mythical figure in Chinese legend who is said to have been the inventor of 漢字/汉字, for which Cāngjié (the input system) was named after.
Would I recommend it?
Yes, if you think you have already acquired a good (enough) understanding of 漢字/汉字, and/or just like a new challenge.
(TL;DR at the end)
Why am I learning Cāngjié (and why you may like to, too)?
1. Mostly for fun.
Have long been intrigued by both Cāngjié and Zhùyīn, and since I finally mustered up the courage to tackle Zhùyīn not too long ago, I thought I'd finally give Cāngjié a try.
While learning Cāngjié does require more effort than learning Pinyin or Zhuyin, it can also be really fun! Inputting 漢字/汉字 with the Cāngjié method is almost like doing a jigsaw puzzle.
The euphoria derived from figuring out and piecing together the radicals that make up a word is something that learning Jyutping (Cantonese equivalent of Pinyin), Pinyin or Zhuyin can't quite match.
And while I know I'll never be as adept with Cāngjié — my knowledge of 漢字/汉字 is nowhere near good enough to ever use Cāngjié efficiently — as I do Jyutping or Pinyin (or to some extent, Zhuyin), it'll still be fun to use Cāngjié every once in a while!
2. Helps with thinking and typing in Chinese.
The upshot of relying too much on using Jyutping/Pinyin/Zhuyin is, I'd tend to think in Roman letters or ㄅㄆㄇㄈ before I'd even think about the actual 漢字/汉字.
But with Cāngjié, because it's based on knowing radicals and joining them together to form actual characters, it'll encourage thinking of 漢字/汉字 first, so I think that would help some with 漢字/汉字 memory retention.
Now you may be thinking, why not just you know, practise actually writing then? That is the tried and proven method to better remember 漢字/汉字 after all?
Yes, of course I can do that — and am doing so occasionally — but we live in a digital age now, and the probability and opportunity to type things out is much higher than actually writing stuff by hand.
The idea here is, more looking to think of and envision characters fully in my head, and trying to lessen over-reliance on Jyutping/Pinyin/Zhuyin.
And this is where I find Cāngjié can be useful, which leads to my next point…
3. Haunted by “What if” scenario.
What if there comes a day (however improbable) where I'm presented with only a Cāngjié keyboard to use for typing Chinese? It has happened with Zhùyīn for me!
That means, no Pinyin or Zhuyin keyboards, no Handwriting tools/touchscreens to write with fingers/mouse, no speech-to-text, and no option to copy-and-paste characters from somewhere else either! What then?
4. Able to type without knowing pronunciation, and with more accuracy.
Cāngjié is shape-based. Unlike Jyutping/Pinyin/Zhuyin, where you have to know what a character sounds like before you can type it out, with Cāngjié, you can type out (again assuming no Handwriting or other tools available) characters without needing to know how to pronounce them at all.
With shape-based typing, you'd also get more accurate hits in the first few 漢字/汉字 that show up, versus sound-based methods like Pinyin where for e.g., typing out “wan” will get you a whole list under the same sound and you may have to scroll through a whole lot to get the exact “wan” you need.
You can also type both Traditional and Simplified characters without having to toggle something or switch keyboards.
So how does one begin learning Cāngjié?
Install a Cāngjié keyboard.
Duh…but of course! Heh! Gboard offers one, banded under Cantonese language input (Android user here, don't know about iPhones, sorry).
There are two versions of Cāngjié that are prevalent currently. Cāngjié 3 and Cāngjié 5. Cāngjié 5 is supposed to be an improvement over version 3 but I don't find there's much; having a slightly altered version just adds to the confusion and unnecessarily complicates matters, in fact!
If you have a choice, I'd recommend selecting Cāngjié 3 as that is more supported. Some operating systems may not be too compatible with Cāngjié 5 still, for some strange reason.
You may also come across something called “Quick” (速成) aka, “Simplified Cāngjié”.
This is simply a scaled down version of Cāngjié, it's still based on Cāngjié's formula. So you still need to know how Cāngjié works in order to use “Quick” efficiently.
You'd then need a chart like this. ↓
* the 重 (Z) key doesn't really come into use. I don't really know what it's for, but it seems to be used (paired with other keystrokes) mainly to type out various punctuation marks.
There are variants out there, some having a little more, or less, radicals shown than in the above example, but I'll say the chart here is one of the more comprehensive ones I've found so far (and sufficient enough) — other charts often fail to highlight the 難 (X) key and what it corresponds to.
You don't have to memorize the chart all at once. Just always have a chart like this on hand to refer to and with enough typing practise, you'll eventually remember which key corresponds with which radicals.
Remember the rules. ↓
“1 part” character (e.g. 寫) = first 3 & last (radical).
“2 parts” character (e.g. 唔龍) = first & last, first 2 & last.
“3 parts” character (e.g. 難) = first & last, first & last, last.
e.g. 寫 ↓
With radicals 宀，丿，臼 (first 3) and 灬 (last).
Corresponding keys: 十，竹，難 and 火。
寫 → 写 ↓
With radicals 冖，卜，㇆ (first 3)，一 (last).
Corresponding keys：月，卜，尸 and 一。
e.g. 龍 ↓
With radicals 亠，月 (first & last), 卜，コ (first 2)，ヒ (last).
Corresponding keys: 卜，月，卜，尸，and 心。
龍 → 龙 ↓ (Simplified 龍 → 龙，a “1 part” character)
With radicals 丶，ナ，ヒ (first 3).
Corresponding keys: 戈，大，and 心。
e.g. 難 ↓
With radicals 廿，人 (first & last)，亻(first & last)，土 (last).
Corresponding keys: 廿，人，人 and 土。
難 → 难 ↓
With radicals ヌ (first & last)，亻(first & last)，土 (last).
Corresponding keys: 水，人，and 土。
Occasionally, you may get a character that looks like a “2 parts” but is actually a “3 parts”. ↓
e.g. 唔 ↓
With radicals 口 (first & last)，一，一 (first & last)，口 (last).
Corresponding keys: 口，一，一 and 口。
Or looks like a “1 part” but really a “3 parts”. ↓
e.g. 奪 ↓
With radicals 大 (first & last)，亻，土 (first & last)，丶 (last).
Corresponding keys: 大，人，土，and 戈。
奪 → 夺 ↓(Simplified 奪 → 夺，a “1 part” character)
With radicals 大，寸 (first 3; the 丶 is the 3rd component).
Corresponding keys: 大，木，and 戈。
But these are exceptions, and don't occur that often.
And you can start practising!
You can try out this pretty good app called 『五色學倉頡』 (learning Cāngjié with 5 colours), for practise. It's on Playstore, just search for “Cangjie Dictionary” and it should show up.
You have to pay to unlock higher levels, unfortunately. ↓
Anyway, each character comes with colour coded hints and you can opt to turn them off if you like more of a challenge. There are also hints (提示) and the chart (字根表) to refer to if you're really stuck. Also has a dictionary component (查字典) to check out the Cāngjié input for characters.
Another option would be a website called HKCards. ↓
You can use it to check the Cāngjié input for any 漢字/汉字, and there's section for practise (倉頡輸入法練習) as well. After inputting your answer with Cāngjié keys (手田水口廿卜), you can click on the “Answer” (答案) button to see how right or wrong your answers were. ↓
There are 8 characters each time, and you can just hit “Practise Again” (再做練習) to refresh for another 8 to practise with. I've yet to hit a limit.
Unfortunately, this website has lots of ads popping up. And it only supports searching in Traditional characters (Cāngjié was initially catered more for Traditional).
Or you can just try practising randomly with a Cāngjié keyboard and check for mistakes with a Cāngjié dictionary (『五色學倉頡』 app's dictionary comes in really useful here — it appears to support searching in Simplified too).
TL;DR
Cāngjié could be useful (and fun) to know if your 漢字/汉字 knowledge is already adequate, and/or you just like a new challenge.
And if watching videos is more your thing, here's a really helpful YouTube tutorial on how to use Cāngjié (has English subs)!
#Cangjie#Congkit#Cantonese#Mandarin#Jyutping#Pinyin#Zhuyin#Bopomofo#Traditional Characters#Chinese Language#Language#Long Post#Dake Rambles
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All the artwork I made for the fanfic Crazy Ex-Boyfriend by @amethystheart2421 for this year's @rsbigbang!
It was a wild run, we got paired up quite late due to our original pairs dropping out of the Bang, and even though it was already December and time was running thin, I decided to make this whole deal a way bigger challenge than it supposed to be... So I ended up drawing all 7 fantasy sequences, trying to mimic a different style for all of them, and finishing both versions of the banners I had in mind. I know, I know, but I swear even I wasn't aware that I am such an overachiever either!
Also, I usually like to hide little details as easter eggs on all of my artwork, so naturally this was the case with these too. I'm gonna list them one by one, also share a little story about each piece, sort of like a "directors cut werk", just so we stick to the screenplay motif. The numbers in brackets lists the order in which I drew the pictures.
The banners (1.,9.): I haven't watched Crazy Ex-Girlfriend the show, so I really had no idea about this whole thing, hence my initial idea of re-drawing one of the official promo posters of the show as the banner. But then Nicole shared the first scene with me when we got paired up, and also told me that her original artist wanted to draw the stargazing scene, which I also really liked. I sketched out both versions to see which one would look better, and also to warm up a bit for this version of the characters. (Nicole also shared some faceclaims, so except Sirius' and Lily's design, I tried to stick to her vision as much as I could.) The Netflix poster was considered the final one for quite a while. The stargazing banner was the last piece of artwork I finished, which I also edited to be used as Chapter dividers. I liked the idea so much I actually referenced the starry sky on the other pictures too. On the Netflix banner, Remus' socks and Sirius' suit handkerchief (how do you call those things in English, gahh) both have the starry pattern.
The western (3.): By this time it was decided that I'd do all fantasy sequences in a different art style, but I couldn't really come up with any specific style which could have fit the western vibes, so the characters are drawn in my own usual style, only the colouring is different. I tried to go for a sepia effect, without using a filter, I think I could pull it off well enough. I was considering to draw Sirius as a Native American for this, because I just don't see him as Caucasian in general, and also, Black Dog sounds like a badly translated indigenous name... But I discarded this idea for the sake of "historical accuracy" (and to save time, haha), as I think they wouldn't visit a saloon this way. I added the starry sky pattern to Sirius' handkerchief and... scarf? (I really should learn how certain textil items are called in English...) There is a wanted poster in the background with Voldy. And I swear I didn't mean to draw Remus looking this horny, it just kinda happened by accident! He is sure VERY fascinated by Sirius'... pistol.😜
The Star Trek (6.): My original idea was to draw like usual and just add so many lensflares to the picture that it's not visible if I copied another style or not. But in the meantime I started to watch Star Trek: Strange New Worlds with my bf and also found out that there is a new cartoon too, so it was then settled. This style is very different from my own, but it was so much fun! It was weird not to draw every single strand of hair in excruciating detail, actually that was the hardest part, haha! I struggled a bit with the placement of the lensflares too, the first version had too many and too bright, it had a disco vibe rather than a spaceship. I wanted to add easter eggs to the background screen, but I was running out of time, so there's only one light blue star similar on the screen! Also now I know that the uniform colors are not really consistent in Star Trek, and Remus’ might have had to be gold as Captain…🤷🏻♀️
The Disney (2.): This one sparked the first idea in my head after I read all fantasy scenes Nicole kindly shared with me. When I first sketched this, I still had no idea that I will end up drawing for every chapter and the style copying was not settled either. It started with this piece, I had the vision of the wolf chasing scene from Beauty and the Beast, and we were discussing whether it's plausible to collect berries during the winter or not... I've tried to make the final piece look as classic Disney as I can, and since I could pull it off, it was not a question anymore whether I'd try to do this with other styles for the other scenes. Retrospectively, this one was the easiest to make, apparently my usual style is not that far from Disney (I grew up watching those movies, so it's not a surprise), but I had to really focus on drawing the animals, it's been ages since I last drew any! (The trick is to give them eyebrows, and bam, it's Disney style!) Sirius' armour, clothes and sword has the star, and I also designed his own "crest" with the black dog and a star on his shoulder plate. The whole concept of the picture is Sirius' side being very bright coloured, while Remus' with the scary wolves in the background being very dark. This might have worked better if it was not set in the winter, but I wanted to stick to the Beauty and the Beast vision I had.
The Comicbook (4.): I was very excited for this one, I really like the looks of the old Batman the animated series, and the way some of his comics are drawn. It's such a unique style, I really like the simple shapes and bold contrasts. Well, it turned out I am very bad at this! I struggled quite a bit trying to capture what I had in mind, but I couldn't even come close to it... So I kinda cheated a bit because I just traced the lineart directly from the reference pictures of Batman comic books I found online. I tried to make Remus less buff, but it looked very weird, so I let him keep his muscular Batman body instead. I drew the wolf mask and the whole Sirius panel, and the coloring went smoothly after I finalized the lineart, even though I only realized that I switched the colour schemes of Remus' superhero outfit when I looked up the quotes for the comic panels, oops. Overall I like how it looks, but I am not that proud of it as I had to "cheat".
The Hobbit (5.): I've probably spent the most time with this one! I actually really like Martin Freeman as an older Remus FC, so I was quite excited to do this piece. My original idea was to mimic John Howe's style, as he is the Tolkien illustrator god, but his level of skill and mine are very very far from each other... and as I struggled a lot with the Batman piece, I felt like going for a smaller challenge. That's why I decided to have a go at Alphonse Mucha's art nouveau style. Turned out it was the worst possible idea! 🤣 The whole point of art nouveau is depicting attractive ladies in an ethereal way... But if you switch the ladies with a fat hobbit, the vibe def won't be the same! The first version just looks so extremely absurd, it's both awful and hilarious. By the time I could fix the pose so it wouldn't look as ridiculous, the final style looked nothing like art nouveau... I still have no idea what style it is now, not my own or any of the ones I tried to capture, that's for sure. I considered adding the star pattern to that tablecloth, but I decided that the lupin flowers in the foreground and the whomping willow-like tree are enough reference for this pic! I like how it turned out in the end tho, I think I could do justice for the watercolor-looking coloring technique, and the end result looks a bit like a fancier version of old children's book illustrations... Which is essentially what The Hobbit is, so it all sorted itself out by the end.
The Anime (7.): I like anime (I'm a little picky about them tho), so it was not a question that I would give this style a try! I am a huge fan of cyberpunk (the genre), so initially wanted to do that, I'm such a slut for Ghost in the Shell and I really like the aesthetics of the Akira posters, but after reading the actual scene, it was not really fitting. So I saved the cyberpunk AU for later, and went for the post-apocalyptic vibe instead. Obviously anime had a great influence on my art style, so similar to the Disney one, it was not that much of a challenge to mimic it. However I'm not that good at drawing backgrounds, and oh boy, I really made myself get over this obstacle with this series of pictures! Also as I was more comfortable with this piece, I actually added the starry sky pattern from the beginning to the scarf/blanket Remus has on this picture!
The Sitcom (8.): The original idea was to copy Hanna Barbera's old family cartoons' style, but as my deadline was very close and after reading the scene I realized that it will have a shitton of characters, I quickly abandoned my original plan. So this one is drawn in my own style, sort of, the designs of the characters are more aligned with Nicole's vision (sans Sirius, Lily, and partly Peter). The hardest part was definitely to figure out how I could fit 10 characters into one picture, let alone sitting in a living room! Also, I had to actually draw the living room too, considering perspective and scaling... Something I am not that good at. In the end the coffee table is maybe a little too big, but I needed that to hide the legs of the characters sitting on the sofa, haha! Also, the sofa is the Millennial Dark Green Velvet Sofa, because I also want to have one and it really emphasizes the general existential dread! (Just kidding.) Also also, I just realized that I have no idea how to eat tacos without making a mess (they are not that popular where I live). I added the starry sky pattern to Sirius' shirt, and gave a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles T-shirt to Peter, as he is talking about that in the scene. I wanted to squeeze in further references to the newspaper Remus is holding, but it was too tiny. The star from Knight Sirius' armour is in the background on the bookshelf. Also that globe just makes no sense but I had no better idea how to fill the empty space 😅. Molly is holding a mug with "BEST MOM" written on it, and I intentionally made Marlene's eye colour the same as Remus', who btw should have worn a bathrobe according to the original scene, but it was too late to fix that by the time I realized it. All in all, I am quite satisfied with how it turned out, it has the necessary sitcom vibes. And it is kinda a record for me in terms of number of characters drawn (the most was 12, but that one has no background, so I'd call it a tie!)!! I am very proud of myself for pulling this piece off, it really is the achievement of the year!
TLDR; (I mean really, my rambling is just too long!) I am happy that I was paired up with Nicole, working with her was such a creative process! My absolute favourite thing to do is work on AUs, and she has provided me with the opportunity to do so, I am grateful! It was truly a pleasure to participate in this (even if it's not that clear from all the complaining I just had above, haha)! If you ask me nicely I might show you the cursed first version of the hobbit picture!
#r/s big bang#wolfstar#sirius black#remus lupin#regulus black#james potter#lily evans#nymphadora tonks#molly weasley#peter pettigrew#harry potter#marlene mckinnon#dorcas meadowes#crazy ex girlfriend#lotr au#cowboy au#disney au#star trek au#anime au#sitcom au#batman au#fanart#art by lau#lau draws with a tablet#collaboration#marauders#amethystheart2421
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life is strange: true colors sentence starters. a compilation of sentence starters from and inspired by life is strange: true colors. feel free to adjust as necessary but do not add to the list. thank you!
‘ no one gets to tell you what you're worth, and no one can take your life away. ’
‘ are you giving me the silent treatment? i'd understand if you were. ’
‘ he thinks the world of you, you know. ’
‘ i'm tired of you using them as an excuse to be a piece of shit. ’
‘ i've got your back, no matter what. ’
‘ i want to be with you. i don't give a shit about seeing the world... i mean, i do, but only if it's with you and if you would rather stay here instead then fuck it, i want to stay here too. ’
‘ i know you've been meeting with them behind my back. ’
‘ everyone needs to stop telling me it's okay. it's not. ’
‘ i've watched you give so much of yourself to make sure other people get what they need, and i guess i wonder if you've thought about what you need. ’
‘ no, you're not 'fine', we've got to get you to a doctor. ’
‘ we've been together for four years and they're the best thing to ever happen to me. ’
‘ why would you teach me to need someone again just to go and leave me all alone? ’
‘ i really care about you, [NAME]. you're the most amazing person i've ever met. ’
‘ you were supposed to protect us. why couldn't you? ’
‘ how long have you and [NAME] been dating? ’
‘ what is it going to take to get you to stop defending him? ’
‘ you tried to murder me. you would have ended my life just so you wouldn't have to face the truth. ’
‘ what if i don't get in? what if i do get in? am i really ready to leave this place? ’
‘ i mean... obviously, i like you a lot, [NAME]. you mean the fucking world to me. ’
‘ how did you ever get so brave? ’
‘ you could bring a smile to my face even on the worst days. ’
‘ you tell yourself you're a good person, but that's a lie. ’
‘ that's been my biggest challenge with you. how do you take care of someone who's already so strong? ’
‘ i want you to make me a promise. be strong. will you do that, [NAME]? ’
‘ every time i'm in here, it reminds me of you, so i'm not surprised you like it. ’
‘ you have a gift. something you don't even understand. you can change the world, make it better. ’
‘ i'm a lot taller, huh? ’
‘ it's not your job to keep it together. ’
‘ are you ready to see the town? ’
‘ the truth hurts. sometimes it's so awful you think you're going to break, but when you come out the other side and you're free and whole and still alive then you'll finally know how strong you really are ’
‘ i'm leaving. i'm actually leaving [PLACE]. ’
‘ i'm looking forward to getting to know you. ’
‘ you have nothing. no one. you're alone. ’
‘ is it still on and off with you two? ’
‘ i want to belong somewhere. i want to know that there's a place and a group of people who wouldn't be the same without me. ’
‘ we're never getting out of this place. ’
‘ how did you ever get so brave? ’
‘ everyone loves you, but i can't look at you without thinking about how fucked up everything is since you came into my life. ’
‘ you need to focus on the positive memories. ’
‘ you've got to tell me what [NAME] was like as a kid. any ammunition you can give me? ’
‘ i see the truth about you. you hate yourself. you hate what you did in the past. you hate the things you've done to keep it a secret. ’
‘ i can tell there's something going on with you, like there's something troubling you. maybe it's time you tell me. ’
‘ what's your greatest weakness? ’
‘ i know who you are. i've seen the worst parts of you. ’
#roleplay prompts#roleplay sentence starters#sentence starters#life is strange#life is strange sentence starters#mine: inbox prompt
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Epilogue
Or, I finished my first playthrough of BG3 and had many emotions (still processing) and many thoughts (also still processing), so here are some Kem ramblings on chosen endings and what happens post-game in Dhamari canon. Under cut because major spoilers of course!
So, for anyone curious, here's how things turned out, and these are fairly unsurprising I'd imagine:
Astarion did not ascend. I tried it for kicks, and I hated his ascended self lol. And Dhamari wouldn't have gone for the 'replace one tyrant with another' idea.
Gale did not claim godhood, BUT nor did he actually give the crown to Mystra - it was left in the sea. As Dhamari said, "If Mystra wants it, she can damn well fish it out herself."
Wyll became the Blade of Avernus, and went romping back to the Hells with Karlach. Go be badasses, guys!!
Lae'zel became the new Comet, and went sailing off to be the saviour of her people.
Shadowheart turned her back on Shar and went off to explore Faerûn and her new faith in Selûne (and got custody of the owlbear).
As for Dhamari and Gale... I had to do a lot of pondering on their ending, both in terms of in-game choices and how things ACTUALLY play out in my brain. While I’m very entertained by the idea of ‘Professor Dekarios’ I don’t think Dhamari is cut out for city life. So the short answer is, I went with the ‘I’ll marry you but I won’t live in Waterdeep’ option and they go off adventuring again instead.
The long version is, of course, more complicated:
Initially Dhamari is all 'yes of course I'll marry you and go back to Waterdeep with you' because frankly he's got no idea what to do with himself post-Netherbrain destruction. But that goes kinda not too well overall, for several reasons:
a) He really has no idea what he's getting into with the whole wedding business, because drow don't DO that. So while Gale's making all these plans and sending out multitudes of invitations, Dhamari's list consists of Wyll, who can't come, and Jaheira, who probably could, and he's just very overwhelmed by all the grand ceremony notions.
b) He's jealous of now having to share Gale with Tara and Mrs Dekarios and probably half of Waterdeep, because Gale's of course rather well known, and even more so after saving Baldur's Gate. Gale knows everyone and Dhamari knows no one, and he feels like he's being perceived as this odd little drow blemish on the local wizard celebrity (whether or not this is actually true is up for debate).
c) After the relief of no longer having a brain death sentence and the pressure of saving the world wears off, and he's had a little chill time, he starts feeling incredibly restless again. He's never had a point in his life till now where he wasn't scared or in danger or both - he has no idea how to live a life that doesn't involve fighting to survive. Unfortunately, in absence of obvious threats, he ends up on some mental level fighting Gale instead - lashing out with confusions and uncertainties he doesn't know how to cope with.
So within a month or so things get very tense between them, because Dhamari is rather terrible at communicating his problems to other people, but eventually they're forced to hash all this out. The end results are: a much smaller wedding than originally planned, Gale declining the offer to take a teaching post at Blackstaff Academy, and soon after the wedding they pack up and go adventuring again for a while so they can spend some time together that's ACTUALLY just the two of them.
At some point - dunno yet if it's pre- or post-epilogue reunion get-together - Dhamari visits with Jaheira, and she invites him to join the Harpers. Dhamari's felt a sort of half-conscious connection with the Harpers for a WHILE now, since finding the executed patrol of them in Grymforge (that's a whole other ramble/fic in process lol) and so when Jaheira makes this offer he's like '...huh yeah I could do that'. It gives him a much needed sense of purpose in life, gets him out and about and not quite so latched onto Gale every hour of the day. So when he and Gale take breaks from adventures and chill in Waterdeep for a bit, Gale can be doing his wizardy stuff with his wizardy friends, and Dhamari does whatever Harper business needs doing around the city.
So things aren't always perfect between them, and frankly these two will always find something to argue about because they ARE such different people. But they love each other, and they learn from each other, and as far as they're concerned - it's a happy ending.
Random tidbit - I really like that in the route I chose, Gale retains the mark of the orb. I think that despite what it was - a death sentence - Dhamari's actually rather fond of it aesthetically, and even sees it as a reminder - to both of them - that Gale survived. That Gale chose Dhamari, chose life, and it was the right choice.
#baldur's gate 3#bg3#bg3 spoilers#bg3 tav#gale dekarios#gale x tav#bg3 epilogue spoilers#bg3:dhamari#kem oc#kem rambles#otp: woven in the storm
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Do you think it was Barbatos who is nightbringer? I think it is very likely.
Honestly, it's truly very hard for me to say.
I personally think it's *way* too obvious. They've been trying to "hide" Nightbringer's identity this whole time, so much so that we don't even really know who he still is after two whole seasons!
As a writer, I feel like Barbatos is a red herring. They're making him all cryptic and similar on purpose.
Then again, unfortunately, Solomare doesn't do well with resolutions or plot twists. Even in original OM we knew Belphie was pretty much a demon right away even though they tried to make it this sneaky little twist. They set up this whole rivalry with Barbatos and Solomon only for it ending up being Barbatos being petty over a simple list (which don't get me wrong, has it's own charms. An anticlimactic twist can end up making for a very good comedic punchline). They sort of feed plot straight to the reader rather than letting them be confused, if that makes sense.
Which is fine, I suppose. I mean this is a silly little gatcha/otome-turned-rhythm-game, I don't expect it to have the most beautifully written mysteries. (But also...and maybe I'm biased but I feel like it's not...*that* hard to write surprises?...Is that just me? Do I have writers bias? Maybe...)
I, also quite unfortunately, feel like the reveal of nightbringer is going to be disappointing.
Now, there is still a tiny bit of hope in me, but that remains to be seen.
If it *is* just Barbatos...okay, cool, we all made that conclusion in the first game TRAILER before the game even came out. Why drag it out this long? Just confirm it, have the player confirm it, and then make the player be frustrated trying to figure out WHY Barbatos is doing this!
If its a brand new character we don't know or have never met before? Kinda cool I suppose, but it defeats the mystery if it's just some rando character they threw in there for plot purposes. Feels more like a last minute decision if it's done that way.
The best outcome- if they can pull it off- would be someone we know but don't know much about. Someone like maybe Diavolo's father somehow- I'd even settle for an ancient relative even though that falls under new character territory, or I've seen theories that its Michael somehow, or someone we know from a different timeline, or they briefly mentioned something about how fairies inhabited this land before demons did, so what if it's the fairy King or something?
Although being called the old "father of demons with control over time" suggests pretty heavily that it is...just Barbatos. But...
Can it really be called a mystery if it's been that obvious from the start?
I'm probably overthinking everything...
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AITA for not wanting my brother to follow Islam?🐢
(Emoji so I can recognize my submission)
⚠WARNING⚠: This is a reaaal long one and also contains discussion of some potentially triggering subjects.
I'll try and explain this as concisely as I can but this is just a part of a long ongoing issue I have had with my brother. I (16F/X) have been at odds with my brother (19M) over a multitude of subjects. We debate often but the problem is he is very stubborn so the debates usually don't result in anything beyond me being frustrated and his opinions remaining unchanged. The problem is that he has unfortunately started going down a nazi rabbit hole and picking up all sorts of extremely harmful ideas. I'll list some of them for you so you can get a general picture: Denying evolution, the rothschild conspiracy, general antisemitism, transphobia, monarchism /facism, calling all sexual content filthy, misogynistic ideas, hating on atheists, etc. As an atheist who is also aroace, nonbinary and also very progressive, this makes me feel greatly uncomfortable. Let me be clear, I don't think I'm the asshole for opposing these ideas, the part where I could be the asshole is me opposing his transition into religion. A lot of his more radical ideas started sprouting after he started getting into Islam like the whole denying evolution thing and his rampant antisemetism. Also just to be clear, I have nothing against Muslims and I am not trying to say that Muslims inherently don't believe in basic science, it's just the particular circles that my brother has been exposed to that are giving him these ideas. However I will acknowledge the that it might be my own implicit bias that is making me reject his own interest in Islam. I'd also like to note my brother has been struggling with his health basically his entire teen life, where he has trouble sleeping, has barely any energy and this has led to him becoming depressed. He barely has any interests and those he had he's recently said he no longer enjoys. It's clear to me this is why such toxic ideas have appealed to him, because he feels disconnected and lonely. He barely goes out, he barely eats, he sleeps until the early afternoon, he has to shave and shower every single time he goes out and if he accidentally nicks himself while shaving he will adamantly refuse to go. It really upsets me to see him this way because I can tell he is suffering but he will never talk to me about it. However it doesn't change the fact that he has said some truly abhorrent things. I have tried many times to show him he's wrong or to gently guide him towards a more progressive and educated outlook but he is too stubborn to change.
This fully came to a head when we were having dinner together with our parents and he kept repeating the same arguments that god must be real because XYZ or, evolution is fake because XYZ and I would tell him why I disagreed with his reasoning. Continue in circles for two whole hours. This ended with me telling him that he was a dumbass and that he should stop watching religious content.
I feel I am an asshole here because just as I don't want to be forced into a religion, I shouldn't force him out of one, but I feel since he's picked up religious ideas he's only gotten worse. Just yesterday he officially became a Muslim at a nearby mosque. I feel I should be happy for him but I can already see problems that may arise. He has to do 5 prayers (salat) a day at certain times and this morning he slept through two. I also worry about Ramadan since he's already very skinny and barely eating, I don't think further fasting will help at all.
Even worse, he's been spreading some of his ideas to my parents. They don't take on all his BS thankfully but they have absorbed some of the more troubling stuff, particularly his transphobia. I try to avoid queer topics as much as I can for this reason but whenever it does come up I always feel sick just sitting there listening to them.
Yet again I want to reiterate that Muslims are not a monolith and do not all share the same opinions but an unfortunately high number are greatly opposed to the idea of queer people. Not to mention many hold strong beliefs regarding the strict divisions of male and female. I don't know. Yet again, it could just be accidental Islamophobia on my part but I don't think it's a coincidence that he started getting more extreme once he got into particular Muslim circles.
So tumblr, AITA?
What are these acronyms?
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UEUEUEUEUEUEU ILL SEND YOU THIS WHILE WAITING TO SEE BOBBYS STATUS.
Dw idm u answering publicly, I want everyone to be cursed w the thought that Rubius is a babygirl and a very bad one at that <3
Honestly I've only read a few explanations of their lore and bits about their relationship but they seem sooooo,,, /pos. Like they have such a fun and silly dynamic that has this air of toxicity and their loves feels quite self destructive bc rubius is kind of a destructive force of nature of a person who has a tendency to hurt those around him, perhaps as a defense mechanism or perhaps out of simply not understanding there are consequences to the things he does while vegetta is someone far too forgiving, he continues to love rubius despite how much he hurts himself, others, and vegetta himself. I'm not saying cubito rubius is an awful person but from what I've seen he is,,, complex. Difficult despite seeming silly. I could be just completely wrong tho LOL I am doin my best I prommy
ANYWAYS IM CHEERING U ON IN WRITING!!! I'd love to talk to u abt them more and learn more abt rubegetta bc like. Look. Theres no way q!vegetta isnt hung up on that demon idc,,,
I'm likewise waiting for the Eggstatistics (which will probably get posted while I'm in the middle of writing this) (EDIT: IT DID) and you gave me the opportunity to infodump so prepare for an essay LMAO
There are SO many layers to Rubius and Vegetta’s relationship (both romantic and friendship-wise), and that complexity makes them fascinating characters to study. I’ve been discussing this a lot in private lately, but I feel like there’s quite a bit of misinformation / misinterpretations of Rubius and Vegetta’s relationship amongst some of the newer fans who might not know some key components of their personality and their relationship dynamic as a whole (which is understandable since the majority of their lore came from Karmaland, and a lot of newer fans only speak English / only watch QSMP), so ALLOW ME TO ELABORATE:
I think of the two, Rubius definitely gets mischaracterized the most (which, again, maybe isn't too surprising since not everyone watched Karmaland and he hasn't been on the QSMP server too much lately). I could go off on a tangent here and list my frustrations about the people who harassed him for his role / his actions during the Egg event / whining about ships to the point where he decided not to log into the server again ‘til the Egg event is over, but that's ultimately irrelevant to this discussion.
“Their love feels quite self-destructive” is a really good way to sum things up, because Rubius is a pretty self-destructive man. Rubius is, fundamentally, a man who is full of love for the people he cares about, but those feelings are in direct conflict with his reluctance to let people get close to him (and his commitment issues). He can freely give hugs and kisses (and more) to Vegetta, but when it comes to expressing his true thoughts and feelings, he’s pretty emotionally constipated. We’ve already seen this a few times on the QSMP server – when Rubius visits on Vegetta’s birthday, he sings him the most beautiful heartfelt love song ever, but as soon as it’s over and Vegetta tries to talk to him, Rubius runs away. Even in Karmaland V, when hooked up to a lie detector and asked about his feelings for Vegetta, Rubius tried to wiggle his way out of answering. Only when the world was literally ending and they all thought they were gonna die did Rubius finally admit his feelings, shouting his confession and his love for Vegetta at the top of his lungs.
(The real tragedy here is that it was so chaotic with everyone shouting, Vegetta never heard his words…)
Although it’s easy to slap the label “toxic” on Rubius, I think that’s unfair to him and his character, as well as his intentions. He truly does love Vegetta with all his heart, in every universe, and he doesn’t want to hurt him, but Rubius doesn’t want to get hurt either. The Meteor shower conversation gives us a clear understanding of that:
Rubius: I don't want to get hurt. I don't want to get my hopes up, and then get hurt. It's happened to me many times before. Especially here in Karmaland.
Vegetta: Have you had lovesickness?
Rubius: Yes. In Karmaland, everywhere, in real life... I'm already used to getting beaten.
Vegetta: That's a pity...
Rubius: I just want someone to take care of me, and that's it. I don't ask for much.
Vegetta: I'm very protective.
The way I see it, Rubius is afraid of his feelings for Vegetta, because the larger his love grows, the larger that potential for hurt and disappointment gets. Does this excuse all his actions? No, of course not, however there’s a big difference between doing something out of self-preservation (possibly as a trauma-response, depending on how you interpret his character) and doing something with the intent to hurt someone.
IMO, Rubius isn’t a toxic guy, he just needs therapy.
Vegetta doesn’t get mischaracterized quite as often, though I do feel like people have a tendency to put him on a pedestal and minimize the flaws he has. I’m a massive Vegetta fan, but this guy’s far from perfect. He’s self-centered, borderline narcissistic sometimes, and he’s a very prideful man. He’s never left Rubius at the altar, but he’s still had his fair share of “oopsies” and "yikes" in their relationship. One (which I’m surprised people don’t talk about more) is an incident from Karmaland IV where Vegetta, very unhinged and mentally unstable at the time, kidnapped Rubius’ wife Nieves and threatened her with a sword, saying, “If Rubius can’t be mine, he can’t be anyone’s.”
For the longest time I genuinely thought that line came from a fanfic or something, then I stumbled upon the clip one day and I was just like:
Anyways
In Karmaland V, Rubius became very close with a little alien child named Titi. He took care of Titi like he was his own son, and despite his attempts at emotionally distancing himself early on so he wouldn’t get attached, Rubius wound up caring a lot for him.
Then Titi died.
It was basically Rubius’ worst nightmare come to life – he’d let himself get close to Titi, he’d loved him unconditionally and let Titi into his heart, and Titi’s death utterly destroyed him. Everyone in Karmaland was affected by the death, but Rubius took it especially hard because of how close they were. Rubius was hurting badly and resorting to terrible coping strategies to deal with the pain, and Vegetta…
Well. Vegetta wasn’t very nice about it.
There are a lot of ways we could interpret Vegetta’s actions and words during this time – maybe he’s not super sensitive when talking about death since he’s probably some kind of demigod, maybe he speedran the grieving process, maybe he thought brutal honesty and direct action would help Rubius “snap out of it” sooner. However you see it, ultimately it did a lot more harm than good for Rubius’ overall mental health.
I bring these examples up not to paint their relationship as toxic or negative, but rather to express just how complex it is. Because, despite all their mistakes and drama and heartbreak, at the end of the day, Rubius and Vegetta still love each other more than anything else. Even towards the end of Karmaland V when they were quite literally on opposite sides of the battlefield (one supporting Quackity, the other supporting Luzu), their true loyalties lay with one another. When Rubius was hit by an enemy, Vegetta defended him with his life, and when Vegetta was hurt, Rubius did the same.
Yes, Rubius doesn't really know how to handle healthy relationships, and yes, Vegetta tends to forgive him too easily, but that doesn't erase the love they have. The key we need to remember here is that Rubegetta is a telenovela that sits squarely in the romcom category. They may wander into other genres and tropes from time to time, but they will always gravitate back to one another. Whether you define that as fate or soulmates or just sheer dumb luck, the facts remain and the love is there.
PHEW anyways that felt good to get out, I have so many thoughts on Rubegetta so I appreciate the excuse to rant. I'm always happy to chat about these two! :D And you're so right - Vegetta is so smitten for that demon, I hope he gets to meet the angel too. I hope Rubius comes back soon so Vegetta can see his Osito Fiu Fiu, but in the meantime, we'll have to keep wishing and praying just like Vegetta...
(ALSO THANK YOU the current chapter of that dang Rubegetta fic is kicking my butt rn because it's the only chapter I didn't outline and life events keep interrupting me when I try and work on it, but it IS getting chipped away at bit by bit! I hope folks enjoy the outcome when it's released :D)
#Karmaland#QSMP#Rubius#Vegetta777#Rubegetta#Vegetta#i talk#qsmp talk#ethogirlie#replies#QSMP Analysis
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There's a lot of fun in writing Freebird is how he and Bitterbat have cat-and-mouse dynamic where no matter what stunt Freebird pulls, Bitterbat always outsmarts him.
It'd be hell on my brain cells to write Freebird and not have justice being served after every gross thing he says to or about Sweetheart under the belief she is just playing hard to get.
Bitterbat obviously wants that man dead. He hates him with all his heart and wishes the worse for him.
Freebird wishes the same. In all his years of knowing Sweetheart, he never had a single worry about her ending up with someone else. She was far above of the leagues of all the other heroes.
He was def concerned about Gabe but after learning about him being Delight's boyfriend, he eased up some. He def isn't a fan of Sweetheart having male friends...because of course he isn't, but he can live with it.
So the Freeheart ship survived for a good while as the top ship on the Sweetheart list...until Bitterbat showed up.
And that man flipped Freebird's entire world upside down along with his expectations for Sweetheart.
She was the most professional hero he knew, so imagine the surprise over witnessing her get all flustered and a mess because of this new guy on the block. A new guy who really isn't as new as Freebird thinks because he doesn't know about the whole history between the Beloveds and Flavor Four.
If he did, he would have been worried about Bitterbat since day one of meeting Sweetheart. But being a hero stationed primarily in mainland America means he typically isn't interested in hero lore outside of the first 50 states.
Truly an American hero, some may say.
So the second he sees that Bittersweet has over throned Freeheart on the Sweetheart shipping list, Freebird realizes he has a problem. He can't escape Bitterbat's name either because it follows very close behind Sweetheart. That bird lived in a blissful ignorance where he could enjoy only Sweetheart's name making headlines but now he's hard pressed to find a single thing that doesn't mention her new archenemy right along with her.
He makes his dislike of Bitterbat very clear and verbal. He disses him any chance he is brought up, especially during talk shows and interviews.
He questions his appearance, especially his taste in clothing. Freebird has very traditional western ideals of what he thinks a man should look like and hipless pants that let half your ass hang out along with earrings, nail polish, lipstick, mascara, and what Freebird falsely believes to be fake eyelashes does not fit those ideals. It's needless to say that Freebird thought Bitterbat was girl at first until he heard him speak.
And even then, that man struggled with figuring out if Bitterbat actually had boobs or pecs upon first glance during a live news recording of him battling Sweetheart.
I'd say hearing Bitterbat speak pissed him off even further because of the sass dripping off every sentence he delivers. It just finalized that Bitterbat was the antithesis of all Freebird's ideals of a guy.
So that man was at a complete loss when he saw Bitterbat flirt with Sweetheart and even manage to kiss her along with declaring his love and vow to steal her heart and make her his queen.
Bitterbat basically speedran becoming Freebird's #1 enemy and that bird was a squawking mess of fury after the battle. He tried everything he could to request that bat to be out on his official list of villains he could deal with because he was under the belief that Bitterbat was a weakling.
An idea that was soon stomped out after witnessing some of the leftovers Bitterbat liked to leave behind from previous confrontations with other cocky heroes and villains.
The first chance Freebird got, he flew to Decking City and did his best to talk some sense into Sweetheart, claiming that Bitterbat was too much for her to handle. She obviously rejected the notion stating she was more than capable of dealing with Bitterbat and she was the only one who could.
And when Freebird dared to bring up Bitterbat's more physical romantic advances on her, Sweetheart cut him off before he could tarnish Bitterbat's name by stating how bold it was for him to assume that Bitterbat's actions were unwelcome. She had even gone so far as to say they were far more desirable than his own.
There are no words suffice enough to describe how much Freebird's world and future shattered in just one week. And his world just continues to get shaken up again and again every time Bitterbat rears his bat-winged head.
The most merciful thing Bitterbat does to Freebird is keep his true relationship with Sweetheart a secret, playing into the act it's all one sided and he is merely a villain with the hots for his hero.
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Today's modding shenanigans!
Today I wanted to test out ACM a bit :D I think I'd most enjoy using it as an additional tool for making custom outfits and seeing how different item appearances work together, less as my primary tool to creating custom outfits as such (also, it is a bit buggy for me and I can't seem to export appearances reliably for some reason).
Since you can alter custom appearances with it too, though, you could definitely mod one "base outfit" and then change the colors spontaneously for a different vibe (for example, I could make an apperance for Kerry wearing one t-shirt and then change the shirt decal or color on the fly in game without cluttering his .app file with a dozen different appearances that are virtually the same just different colors!). Wondering though if there exists a resource that lists every item's appearance names (cause some are super specific and hard to guess, like... instead of "black" or "smiley-face" you have appearances like "6th street" or "black_capsules") for this purpose... and if not, I'll probably make one just because I would find it useful to have xD
Also, ACM is really neat for taking off Kerry's jewelry on the fly for certain pics XD Or changing nail colors and things like that! In all these regards this is a super useful resource as is already, but I'm excited where the mod makers will take it :D (also... random sidenote, but can we talk about Dante for a moment? I'm a little bit in love, and I need his shirt not only for Kerry but also for Vince XD).
Then some silly behind the scenes stuff xDD @netcess said that Reed really needs a party outfit with a cool hat, so I put something quick and simple together for her and... I wanted to take a pic and as I went into Photomode, Vince spawned straight across from Reed and looked so disappointed at him partying without him when so many pressing issues are at hand XD Just really fun little moment I wanted to capture, intensified by facepalm XD
Honestly he rocks it XD Might make a recolor to fit his suit when the mood strikes xD
And finally: who wore it better? XD
(giggling and kicking my feet at how his hair and beard match now :3)
No but I actually tried my hand at editing this hair mesh for Kerry, cause it was clipping a bit here and there! This is done super quick and dirty like... In theory I know I could export his headmesh and then fit it exactly to that, but for now this aint so bad already actually! :D No more clipping into the side of his head and the hairline in the front looks better. I left out Johnny's hair cap and all that because I wanted to go for a really really short, very freshly shaved look for this like...
Something he would've done at the end of his tour right before coming back to Night City. Keeping the long hair consistent for all concerts. And as I said, I 100% get why he has that look, like... It has old, seasoned rocker vibes, it's so much less clean and more himself than his 2077-appearance like... natural hair color, not styled at all, embracing himself again with the whole "I'm gonna name my next album "Kerry Eurodyne" and go back to my roots thing, he looks like he just came off stage, sweaty and tousled, so... yes!! I do love it for all those reasons, but idk... I feel like, it's also at the same time something low maintenance that he doesn't have to pay a lot of mind to, escaping into his music and career after apparently losing V. And I think with the tour over and with getting V back so unexpectedly, he'd change things up a bit again. It's a concert/tour look for me. And this style is also low maintenance, while still Kerry, still rebellious, but a little more cleaned-up, in control of his life, if that makes sense?
@pinkyjulien sorry for stealing your tags from my other post, but you put it into words so well, on point!!
Especially your last point, cutting/shaving your hair to mark a new beginning is 100% such a thing he'd do!! So yeah, I think I'll stick with this for his two-years-plus-four-months-later look xD
#elven tries modding cyberpunk#cyberpunk 2077#phantom liberty#kerry eurodyne#solomon reed#phantom liberty spoilers#just in case
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