#typhoon golden

[garfi774]

Enclosed Kitchen in Austin An illustration of a small, traditional galley kitchen with ceramic tile flooring, a brown wall color, raised-panel cabinets, white countertops, granite counters, a white backsplash, a stone tile backsplash, and beige countertops.

[batty4u]

Kitchen (Austin)

[saintaviator]

vache the stampede..

[plague-on-the-run]

@knife-drawer-rp

Caz had just rolled into town by the good graces of a generous driver they'd met along their travels. They left the driver with some double dollars as thanks for the ride, and scoped out the modest town for a place to get out of the sun and find something to eat. Hell, a drink wouldn't be too bad either--whiskey or water, it didn't matter to them. Whatever the town had would be just fine.

Fortunately, a saloon and diner wasn't too far from where the driver had dropped them. Stepping inside with their hat tipped low over their faintly glowing mask, Caz quietly headed for a barstool in the corner to have a seat.

"Whatcha' got fer drink and dining 'ere?" Came a raspy mechanical voice, filtered and laced with static from their mask. The keep looked up, stared at them for a moment, and shook his head.

"The usual booze an' water here, though it ain't very clear. Better than nothin', I reckon. Dinner today is some sandwhiches fixed up by the missus--don't like it, starve."

"Water and a sandwhich would be great, sir." Caz answered, sliding some currency across the counter. "An' a bottle o' whiskey would be jus' heavenly."

"You want a glass with that?"

"I'll jus' use the water glass--save yew trouble with dishes."

The barkeep took the payment with a nod, and hollered to the back where presumably where his kitchen and his wife was located to get a plate ready. In the meantime, he set Caz up with their glass of water and bottle of whiskey. They wasted no time lifting their mask up just enough to gulp the water down, and immediately refilling the glass with booze.

[nomans-land-rp]

The blonde cackles from the roof of a house he jumps down and specifically targets Wolfwood placing cat ears upon his head with a wide grin across his face. "I think you should keep that on it looks good on ya."

It was a nice day. It was a NICE. DAY. And then some blonde maniac just had to go and ambush him with cat ears!

"What the f-- NEEDLE NOGGIN!" Wolfwood turns his body to glare at the stampede, taking the ears off and shaking them at him. "Where the hell did you even get these?!"

[kotias]

Your Grace is a Fire

New fic just dropped, prompted by @gleafer on her Patreon!!

Prompt:

“Hell infuses Crowley’s body with hellfire so he runs away and hides for years. Aziraphale finds him, and he thinks he knows how to put out the fire that burns his demon so!”

Tags: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Hell's Punishments, Graphic description of torture, graphic description of illness, graphic description of violence, Stalking, fleeing, divine ecstasy, Coming Untouched, Bloodgraphic description of body failing and doing disgusting things, Shedding, Angst with a Happy Ending, angst with a porny ending, Angst and Porn

TW: I am so serious. DEAD DOVE. There is blood, torture, intense amounts of gross bodily fluids.

Word count: 7,369 words

Summary:

Laudanum! Last time Crowley would do that… Hell infuses the demon with hellfire and sends him back on Earth, where Heaven hunts him down for three decades before Aziraphale gets his hands on him and brings him back to the bookshop. There, they work together to rid Crowley from this hellfire plaguing him…

Excerpt:

Before him, Aziraphale’s irises changed. The jade colour they had been wearing until then was engulfed into a golden typhoon, thrashing against the walls of its white enclosure and devouring it until all trace of the jewel was gone. The storm passed, leaving behind it the pure, bright blue of a clear sky, almost light enough to lose itself into the rest of the eye.

Crowley only realised that Aziraphale had opened his mouth when his warm breath tickled his skin, and he followed the light appearing between his teeth.

He shook his head, letting out a plaintive whine, trying to get away, get away, get away— but the cold light glowing harder than the sun breached the space of Aziraphale’s lips and entered his, resting on the tip of his tongue and giving him a moment of soothing warmth.

That, however, did not last.

As the glowing bundle rolled into his mouth and down his throat, the cosy embrace turned into a scorching hot tear rolling into the walls towards his chest and freezing his inside with shock.

“Wha—”

“I know.” Aziraphale’s eyebrows furrowed in concern and, Crowley understood, a silent apology. “It’s going to hurt, Crowley.”

And hurt it did, like nothing he had lived through before. He didn’t need to see the light moving inside him to know exactly where it was; everything it touched caught on fire, only to be frozen over and shredded to pieces. Each nerve of his body seemed to be looking for an escape, goosebumps covering his skin like needles.

Each gasp of suffering added only more hurt as the air blew the flames of the hellfire inside him harder and harder. It felt like a battle between Aziraphale’s light and his own affliction, and the loser was himself.

He crashed to the ground, wriggling and whining, his vision turning black.

Read more here

And of course, I am not forgetting @goodomensafterdark ;)

[opal-owl-flight]

Decimation.

Youve been stealing back millions of eggs from Grizzco for years. And in a single night, they took it all back.

How does it feel to face a possible extinction?

Uhh lore abt Grizzco and the salmonids below!

So in my interp, Grizzco started somewhat small, bc back then Grizz and...an associate... were doing everything by themselves. When his associate went nuts, and almost ended the world by driving the nearby salmonid nations nuts as well, Inkadia launched Project Piranesi. (More on that another time.) Grizz had to think of another way to get those eggs..

…how perfect was it then, that Inkopolis, a fairly new city, was having a bit of a salmonid problem?

Grizz inserted his corporation as part of the damage control along the run routes. it only grew from there.

he expanded to the Splatlands later, though admittedly the folks there were more adapted to the salmonids compared to Inkadia. Its not as strong a hold but Splatsville and its surrounding establishments appreciated the extra precautions Grizzco provided.

Neos born fighting for her life and for her clans. Its why shes so aggressive and finds it difficult to be anything but. If shes not angry, fighting for her clans to have a life of peace…for a present and future where she can live -- what is she?

she and 3 arent so different, in that regard.

------------

Grizzco says that the last 7 big run locales had "unusual magnetic readings" and in my world that just means THEY DAMN PUT IT THERE!!!!

They intentionally put something there to confuse the migrators and to steal the next generation -- and the Inkfish? Ofc theyd fight for their homes.

The Splatlandians TRIED to avoid the routes when they built the city after thousands of years of observation. Sorta like the dykes and canals some cities build next to swelling rivers.

Another comparison is that the big runs are just like other natural calamities in the eyes of the nations. Its like a flood, an earthquake, a typhoon. Hell its somewhat announced that way too. The infrastructure is built with the runs in mind. The powers that be have built countermeasures.

*I say try bc some sleazy/unaware corporations still built along those routes bc of the cheaper land/other "economical reasons."

And then Inkadia just wasnt aware at all, being a newer city compared to the ancient splatlands.

Grizzco intentionally causes property damage for bigger gains. Theyve been suffering a "shortage" thanks to Neo3 and the platoon's banditry. In a bid to take everything back and more, they decided to make the biggest event in the Splatlands the salmonid's next target.

They know that EVERYONE will show up to it.

---------

I think seeing that counter keep ticking up gives Neo3 a sense of creeping dread. Thats the number of eggs she put back in the sea. And more. All done in a single night. All her work, down the drain.

The platoon does manage to get a LOT of it back but god. What about the fallen runners, who were supposed to get to the actual spawning grounds?

Those lives disrespected and their bodies unable to feed the spawn. (Theres only so much the survivors can drag back.)

I wonder too, how many of those runners arent there for the runs at this point. They are there to kill.

Ticked off by the persistent attacks and the misdirection. As Polyphemus says in Epic, "Take from you what you take from me."

----------

After multi-magnetic field disruptors in the biggest run, these salmonid have had enough and want to hit back. I wouldnt blame them...god, I wouldnt blame them

The salmonids have never resorted to kidnapping any inkfish. Theyve killed. Yeah. Part of the whole running ceremony. But it was always just a part of that.

To actually go out of their way to fight instead of spawn? Thats different. In the grand run, inkfish may notice that some bosses arent dropping golden eggs. Bc they were never here to spawn. Theyre here to drag every inkfish they find into hell.

Subsequent big runs may end up with more and more of those eggless bosses.

----------

Happy 700 mil!! I HAD MANY NEO3 AND SALMONID THOUGHTS. THINGS ARE GETTING SO FUCKED UP IN SPLOONWORLD. The platoon as a whole is trying to restore peace between the Splatlands, Inkadia, Octaria AND the Salmonid nations, but unless Inkadia and the Splatlands change (COUGHS mostly Inkadia), nothing can really be done.

This is the shit 3 fights for. That harmony is what they dream of. The whole world rests on their shoulders and they press on, ever forward.

[revenantghost]

Okay, I found more info on the article where it says that Vash stays away from people so he doesn’t fall in love, and some highlights (translated by Google)

The discussion about the typhoon's non-killing and anti-killing is actually not aesthetic. At first, I just thought it would be very interesting for the main character, who is obviously a strong shooter, to solve problems with a gun instead of a gun, But sure enough, when it comes to the issue of life and death, it will become heavy, and as a result, it has been confronted with the story. At the end of the confrontation, I came to a conclusion that people can hurt each other because they don't understand each other. If they understand each other, the weight of life will become completely different. The typhoon has lived on this planet for so long, and through the interaction with people, everyone's life is engraved in their hearts. In the end, the fact that human beings recognize, communicate and connect with each other will become a force to restrain violence, which is also the meaning of the word "family" (inside the body) in TRIGUN.

-

The setting that the pastor's appearance does not match his actual age was decided on the way. I felt it after reading the pastor's side comics, but this setting is still great, especially when I think back to the pastor's childish behavior in the early days, like deliberately taking chili sauce. If you pour it on the wound of the bad guy, you will feel like he is a big boy XD

-

The typhoon in the ending seems to have completely black hair, but there is still a little golden part, so he will not die immediately at the end of the time.

-

Typhoon finally made friends after living 150 years, will there be lovers in the future? Mr. Naito's answer is that the typhoon has been avoiding this matter because the time axis (PLANT and human) is too different. The person who wants to fall in love with him must be quite big.

[karinzany]

SPOILERS: Chapter 1094 of ONE PIECE

We've finally seen St. Jaygarcia Saturn's real form on chapter 1094, and it is absolutely diabolical. It seems to be inspired by a yōkai called Ushi-oni. So I went back to chapter 1085 and tried to connect the rest of the Gorosei with other yōkai. Here are my predictions:

Ushi-oni: In Wakayama Prefecture, ushi-oni are mountain-dwelling beasts. Legend says when a hiker or traveler makes eye contact with the ushi-oni, the person cannot avert his or her gaze. The person's soul or energy is drained and he or she dies. This is called “Kage wo kuu (影を食う)” or sometimes "Kage wo nomu (影を飲む)", which translates to “eating the shadow” or "drinking the soul".

Aosaginohi: Aosaginohi, or Aosagibi (青(あお)鷺(さぎ)火(び), "blue heron fire") is a phenomenon illustrated by Toriyama Sekien in his Konjaku Gazu Zoku Hyakki. It depicts a night heron with a mysteriously illuminated body. Folklore built around the phenomenon tells a story of an old black-crowned night heron transforming into a yokai. The herons' feathers fuse into shining scales that give off an iridescent blue light in the dark of night. The yokai's breath is also said to release golden powder into the air that collects to form a heat-less fiery light, though this light eventually dissipates in the wind. The harmless creature is said to flee from human contact, retaining a normal heron's shyness. Legend also warns to not confuse the glimmering blue-white light with onibi lights.

Baku: Baku (獏 or 貘) are Japanese supernatural beings that are said to devour nightmares. According to legend, they were created by the spare pieces that were left over when the gods finished creating all other animals. They have a long history in Japanese folklore and art, and more recently have appeared in manga and anime. The Japanese term baku has two current meanings, referring to both the traditional dream-devouring creature and to the Malayan tapir. In recent years, there have been changes in how the baku is depicted.

Benzaiten: Benzaiten (shinjitai: 弁才天 or 弁財天; kyūjitai: 辯才天, 辨才天, or 辨財天, lit. "goddess of eloquence"), also simply known as Benten (shinjitai: 弁天; kyūjitai: 辯天 / 辨天), is a Japanese Buddhist goddess who originated mainly from Saraswati, the Hindu goddess of speech, the arts, and learning, with certain traits deriving from the warrior goddess Durga. Due to her status as a water deity, she was also linked with nāgas, dragons, and snakes. Apart from being a patron of music and the arts, she was eventually also worshiped as a bestower of monetary fortune and was reckoned as one of the Seven Lucky Gods (Shichifukujin).

Ōkubi: In Japanese folklore, Ōkubi (大首) are giant heads of either men or women. An Ōkubi appearing in the sky is a sign of impending disaster, which may be a typhoon, earthquake, tsunami, or fire. These disasters are often attributed to the Ōkubi. Ōkubi are otherwise harmless and will disappear soon after the first sighting. They are thought to be sky spirits who protect the sky's or people who died during a natural disaster. They are said to protect people from the natural disasters and protect the sky from demonic sky spirits. It is said if one does not pay respect for the Ōkubi, they will be turned into sky spirits and their face will appear in the sky immediately. Those who do pay respect are said to get good fortune and gifts.

PS.: This silhouette probably belongs to Imu themselves, but I can't figure out what yōkai or supernatural being it represents. What are your theories?

EDIT: Thank you @ozo-blog and @marimo-kyun for your suggestion!

On chapter 1069, Vegapunk said that Devil Fruits earned the ire of Mother Nature, which is the Sea itself. The name Imu can be read as Umi backwards, meaning "Sea" in Japanese. So, maybe Imu has a power that controls the sea? Umibozu would be on theme for them.

Umibōzu: Umibōzu (海坊主, "sea priest") is a paranormal phenomenon or yōkai from Japanese folklore. Other names include Umihōshi (海法師, "sea priest") or Uminyūdō (海入道, "sea priest"). Little is known of the origin of umibōzu but it is a sea-spirit and as such has multiple sightings throughout Japan. Normally, umibōzu appears to sailors on calm seas which quickly turn tumultuous. It either breaks the ship on emergence or demands a bucket or barrel from the sailors and proceeds to drown them. The only safe way to escape an umibōzu is to give it a bottomless barrel and sail away while it is confused.

Alternative: I've also seen another theory that says Imu could be Satan (from the Bible, yes) because he has a Red Dragon form that could relate to the Celestial Dragon's symbol, a red dragon hoof.

Red Dragon (Biblical Satan): The Red Dragon is a form of the Biblical Satan, otherwise known as Lucifer, the former Seraphim that rebelled against the Creator and became evil in Christianity and Hebrew religions. His alias, the Red Dragon, was described in the Bible to have seven heads, ten horns, seven crowns, and a massive tail that knocks one-third of the stars out of the sky. The Red Dragon is mentioned to have other names like the Serpent of Old and the Devil. It is said in the Bible that Satan will take the form of the Red Dragon and will along with the Antichrist, the False Prophet, and the Beast, deceive most of Humanity. After that the Red Dragon will be set free upon the world in which he will rule alongside demons for three long years. After that God will cast the Red Dragon, demons, and other dammed evil souls into Lake of Fire, thus finally destroying the evil of Satan forever.

During the time-skip, we've seen Brook being accidentally summoned by a Satanic cult, which implies the existence of Satan in the One Piece world. Now, on chapter 1094, we've seen again a summoning circle, this time for St. Jaygarcia Saturn. I think it's pretty obvious the connection between real world devils and the Gorosei and Imu.

It's all going to come to the ironic conclusion that the D. clan, the enemies of the Gods, are Gods themselves (like Nika) and the Celestial Dragons, the Gods of the world, are actual Devils.

[lenafromthenordiccoven]

Yes, ma'am | Bob Floyd x f!pilot!reader

Pairing: Robert “Bob” Floyd x f!Pilot!reader

Requested? no (unless you count my own brain pestering me with this)

Rating: M – MDNI 18+

Word count: 4370

Warnings: Pilot!reader,  switch!Bob, switch!reader, light fingering, oral (f!receiving) unprotected PinV (be smart and wrap it, folks), breeding kink, Bob Floyd fucks, Navy and Air Force inaccuracies are probably gonna pop up here and there, super self-indulgent

Summary: After six years of training, you’re finally graduating from flight school as one of the first female Eurofighter Typhoon drivers in the Austrian Air Force. Your boyfriend of six and a half years, Bob, has supported you every step of the way. And now? Now it’s time to celebrate his newly graduated, freshly made Lieutenant, girlfriend.

Read on ao3

A/N: Listen, this is gonna be SUPER self-indulgent, ‘kay? Thanks to TGM, the Austrian airshow “Airpower” in 2022 and the internships I’ve done with the AAF, I’mma try to enter flight school for the Eurofighter Typhoons once I’m done with my MA. This translator wants to flyyy, baby! 😂 So, this is my brain keeping me motivated to train for the entry exam by giving me ideas of what it could be like to actually do it and graduate. Also, I’m a slut for Bob Floyd. What else is new? 😂 This is basically an extension of @attapullmans International Bob Floyd Fucks month. I wanted to have this up by the end of January but didn’t have time. (Song to listen to for this would be Tell Me The Truth by Two Feet.)

Six years. You’d been waiting for this moment for six years. Had worked hard for it. And now, as officers, family and other invitees were applauding and two of the Typhoons soared overhead, you were officially being dismissed as a Second Lieutenant for the first time. The first female Typhoon driver in the Austrian Air Force. And yet, it didn’t feel real. Not the way your classmates, other pilots with the rotary wing or other fixed-wing aircraft, clapped you on the back as they cheered. And certainly not the way your boyfriend of almost seven years, who’d been there for you every step of the way since you’d told him you wanted to try out for the Air Force when you’d first started dating, was grinning at you. No, he was positively beaming.

The fact that your parents hadn’t been able to make it to your graduation might’ve dampened your mood, if Bob wasn’t looking at you with so much love and pride, it made your own chest swell. You’d done it. Despite what everyone else and your own mind had told you from time to time, you’d made it. And, to be honest, you’d been terrified of Selection Day. Scared that even after already three years of consistently being top of the class and adamant about wanting to fly the Typhoon, your superior officers would tell you, they’d assign you to the helicopters or air transport.

Your heart was pounding in your chest, blood roaring in your ears as you pushed through the crowd and finally reached Bob. You were trembling by now, the adrenaline slowly wearing off, the world coming back into focus. And with it, the thought that you had to get Bob out of here as soon as possible. He’d chosen to wear his dress whites, while you were in your dress uniform with its grey jacket and grey pants (thank god, they’d actually let you choose whether you wanted to wear a skirt or pants and nobody had pitched a fit when you’d gone for the pants, explaining that you would “stick out like a sore thumb as is”, you didn’t want to add to that by being the only person wearing a skirt. The other female cadets in your class had all chosen the pants as well.) – and the new golden edelweiss on your collar. Fuck, if he didn’t look like he’d stepped off the pages of one of the romance novels you’d been devouring recently.

“Congratulations, darlin’. ‘m so damn proud of you,” he murmured before bending down to press his lips against yours in what had to be the most chaste kiss of the century. But you were still in sight of your superiors, so you couldn’t go too far. Especially since your relationship had already sparked enough gossip – and a three-hour briefing on what you could tell your boyfriend and what you couldn’t, not that you hadn’t figured out most of the things with you usually being on the receiving end of Bob’s professional silence. You didn’t feel like adding fuel to the fire, even though you positively ached to kiss Bob the way you really wanted to and to stick your hands in his hair and mess up that gelled back hairdo he was sporting.

You could feel your cheeks heat at the thought of how you didn’t even want him to take off his uniform. You just wanted to get him home and have him fuck you while he was still wearing his dress whites. “Thank you, baby,” you finally replied to Bob’s praise.

He raised an eyebrow and slightly cocked his head at your reaction, but you saw recognition bloom on his face when you lightly bit down on your bottom lip. He leaned in close to whisper in your ear. “Do we still have to go to any official dinners or parties, or do you think, we can jus’ sneak off?” His voice was rough, lower than it had been just a minute ago, and it sent a delicious shiver down your spine.

You briefly closed your eyes before you looked back up into those light blue eyes of his, trying to look as innocent as you could muster. “I’m afraid, there’s one more we have to go to. My new squad leader’s paying, and it would probably be good to get to know them a bit before next Monday. But I’m sure, they’ll understand if we don’t stay for too long.”

“Whatever you say, Lieutenant.” His lips stretched into a smirk, the kind of which you imagined only you saw on the regular, as another shiver raced down your spine and left goosebumps in its wake despite the June heat. Damn it. You knew, how much he liked it when you called him by his rank. But this? This was new. And you loved it. “You wanna take the lead when we get home?” He wrapped an arm around your waist and drew you in closer as you nodded.

“Hell yeah, I do.” You both chuckled at your response. Usually, you had no problem handing over control to Bob, especially in the bedroom. But sometimes, especially if things had been stressful and since you’d joined flight school, you liked to be the one to make him whimper and beg for a change. Tonight would not be any different. You grinned as your mind was already busy conjuring up ideas.

***

“Good god, I’m so sorry. I had no idea, he could talk that much,” you groaned when you finally entered your off-base apartment with Bob hot on your heels. Initially, you’d expected to only stay for maybe two hours with your new squad. But then time had stretched on and now it was almost ten pm. You were exhausted. But also restless. Besides, you actually had the weekend off, starting with Saturday tomorrow. And Bob would leave on Sunday evening, so who would fault you for not wanting to go to sleep yet?

You toed off your shoes as Bob closed and locked the door and then leaned his back against it. His eyes were closed, a sigh left his lips and for the first time since you’d picked him up from the airport, he looked tired. You inched closer to him, snuggling into his chest, despite his buttons and ribbons digging into your cheek. You could feel him relax against you, just as the tension finally left your own shoulders.

“You know,” you began to mumble into his jacket, “I’d get it if you wanted to go to sleep after today. We’ve still got tomorrow and Sunday after that.” You really would have understood if his response had been yes, wouldn’t have minded just curling into his embrace and against his warm body in bed as you both drifted off to sleep.

But to your surprise, he simply lightly pushed on your shoulders until he could get his fingers under your chin and tilt your head up to meet his gaze. “I might be tired, but that doesn’t matter. Haven’t seen you in months. Just wanna … feel you. Make you feel good.”

“You want to be a good boy for me?” you replied with your own question, your own fingers inching up his neck until you could caress his cheek. He leaned into your touch and then nodded.

“Yes, ma’am.” His eyes were glued to yours, pupils blown a little wider than they had been just minutes before. The corner of his mouth twitched upwards when he heard the sharp intake of your breath at his words.

You groaned, squeezed your eyes shut and then leaned your forehead against his chest. His words only worsened the throbbing in your core, while you fought the urge to squeeze your thighs together. “I never thought, I’d actually like it when people call me that. Makes me feel so old.” You swallowed thickly. Well, you weren’t entirely honest. You’d thought about what it would be like to hear Bob call you “Ma’am” or by your rank. The two of you had tried it out once, where he’d called you cadet and you’d immediately shut him down. It had made you feel too small, by no fault of his really. You just hadn’t liked it. But this? Hearing him call you Lieutenant? Especially in this tone of his he sometimes got when he was particularly needy and wanted you to ride him. It ignited a whole new wave of desire in your core that quickly spread throughout your whole body.

He chuckled. You felt his chest vibrate underneath your cheek. “Now you understand what you do to me when you call me by my rank?” His hand came up to cup the back of your neck. Your eyes almost fluttered closed again just feeling his fingers brush against your skin.

“You wanted me to call you Lieutenant and Sir,” you started to defend yourself. Bob’s grip around the back of your neck tightened. Only lightly, but enough to make you take a half step back, so you could look him in the eyes properly. The light blue of his eyes was almost completely swallowed by his blown-out pupils now. His other hand took your wrist and brushed your hand against the growing tent in his pants.

You could see his nostrils flare when you flexed your hand and grabbed his dick over his pants, rolling the heel of your palm against his tip. He jerked, his hips involuntarily bucking against your hand. He barely suppressed the moan bubbling out of his throat and you bit your lip to hide the grin threatening to break out on your face. “I know, you feel weird about people callin’ you ma’am at work. But when we’re off-duty and I call you that or by your rank, I don’t want you to ever think, it’s not a sign of my utmost devotion to you. I love you, Y/N. And I wanna make you feel good. Please. Lemme make you feel good. Show you how much I worship you, ma’am.”

He kept his eyes trained on yours as you leaned up on your tiptoes to brush your lips against his ever so lightly. He groaned and chased after your lips, but you took another step back, took your hand away from his crotch in the process. “Well, then you better show me you mean it, Lieutenant. Don’t you think?” You began to slowly walk backwards into your small apartment, undoing the buttons on your uniform jacket as you watched him stalk after you.

While discarding your uniform, you were careful not to wrinkle it. You’d have to probably go to the designated dry cleaner’s anyway, but just wanted to be safe. A thought that immediately left your head when you saw Bob reach up to undo his own buttons. You surged forward, put a hand on his and then said: “Did I say, you could undress, Lieutenant?”

Bob’s gaze flicked from your face to your hand on his. You were pretty sure, he’d also eyed the semi-lacy bra peeking through your open shirt, but you couldn’t fault him. While your current underwear couldn’t possibly be classed as lingerie, you were wearing a pretty, white set that came with lace trim around the hems, was super soft and comfortable to wear – but also had your now pebbled nipples poking through the cloth. “No, ma’am. Sorry.”

“It’s alright, Lieutenant. I’ll let it slide this time. But just so we’re both clear, the uniform stays on until I say otherwise, understood?”

Bob startled, blinked once, twice, before he stuttered: “S-say again?” In another instance you would have teased him for so easily falling back into the standard ICAO phraseology, but this time, you just smiled. You shrugged off your white shirt, relishing in the way his eyes tracked every little one of your movements. He licked his lips as you pressed your body against his, nudging his cock with your thigh. One of your hands travelled up his chest, over his ribbons. Your nails lightly scratched the skin of his neck until you could tangle your fingers into his hair. And you tugged. Not hard enough to actually hurt him, but enough to elicit a broken moan.

“I said, the uniform stays on until I say otherwise.” You tugged again. “Did you understand me, Lieutenant Floyd? Or do I have to spell it out for you?” He leaned down a bit, until your faces were only inches apart.

You could see the twinkle of mischief in his eyes. He would obey for now, play along with your little game, but you would definitely be having a conversation about your apparent uniform kink later. And you knew, he would use it against you when he could.

“Loud and clear, ma’am.” He wrapped an arm around your waist to pull you a little closer, and you guessed, to keep your body pressed against his, give you a harder time to escape his grasp again.

“Good.” You pressed a small kiss to his lips, ducking away before he could deepen it. You started to back up again, into your bedroom while you opened the button and fly of your pants, pushed them down over your thighs and let them pool down at your feet. You heard him groan and felt his fingers lightly brush over your ass when you turned around to walk over to your bed. You swatted his hand away, then bent over to push down your panties.

Bob swore under his breath, and you couldn’t help the grin that lit up your face at his reaction. You’d soaked through your panties by now, knew he could see it. Was probably itching to bury his fingers and face in your pussy. But when you caught his gaze, your breath hitched in your throat and your overly confident, dominant persona faltered for a split second. Fuck. He looked like he was going to devour you the second he got his hands on you. For a moment, you wondered if you’d gone too far in teasing him this much.

“What’s your color, baby?” you asked and slowly sank down on the edge of the bed.

“Green. Still, very much green. But, damn, Y/N…” His gaze briefly landed on your pussy and the wetness you knew he could see staining your inner thighs. You swallowed, before you leaned back a bit, steadying yourself on your hands.

“Well, what are you waiting for? Get over here and show me what other talents your mouth and those thick, nimble fingers of yours possess.” He didn’t even respond verbally this time, only made a sound that reminded you of a growl. He nodded, once, just a quick, curt movement of his chin. Then he closed the distance between the two of you in two long strides.

His hands were on you before you could even tell him to touch you. One of them cradled your head and pulled you closer, so he could crash his lips against yours in what you’d call a complete 180° turn from how you’d kissed on base earlier that day. You moaned into the kiss, tangled one of your hands into his hair and easily opened up for his tongue to slip into your mouth. His other hand wandered down, quickly squeezing your right breast before it dipped down between your legs.

“Bobby,” you gasped against his lips as he swiped his fingers through your folds and pressed his index finger lightly against your clit.

“What, no more orders for me, ma’am?” He smirked against your lips as you desperately shook your head. You’d thrown your persona out the window the minute he’d fully touched you. All that mattered was feeling his body against yours now. Nothing else.

“Fuck that. Need you to take over. Fuck me, Bob. Please.” You could barely suppress the moan ripping out of you as he quickly shoved two fingers inside of you.

He groaned into another kiss; you knew he could feel you clench around his fingers. How you grew even wetter. “Oh, sweetheart. I’ll do anything you want if you ask me this nicely.”

When you opened your mouth to tell him what exactly it was you wanted, he gently withdrew his fingers from your pussy and pushed them past your lips instead. You closed your mouth around his fingers, letting your tongue swirl over the tips and let out a low moan at the taste – and the fact that he had just figured out what you wanted without you having to ask.

He slowly sank down on his knees in front of you, grabbed your thighs and placed them on either side of his head. He looked up at you, making you wonder if it was even possible for his eyes to grow even darker? Much like you, he’d foregone his usual glasses for the day and opted for contacts, making you almost miss the feeling of the frame digging into your skin. Without his gaze ever leaving your face, he turned his head and pressed a gentle kiss to the skin of your inner thigh. “This what you were gonna ask me to do, sweetheart?”

You nodded eagerly, trying to push him closer to your core with your heel, but to no avail. “Yes.” Any other time you would have been fucking mortified at how needy and breathless you sounded, and he’d barely touched you. But you’d done the same to him, it was only natural, he’d turn the tables on you as soon as he got the chance. And you’d handed him the reins freely after all.

“Yes, what?” He’d practically growled the words, raised an eyebrow at you and slowly leaned closer to let his hot breath ghost over your now practically dripping pussy.

You swallowed again, scrambling to find your voice and command your tongue to move. “Yes, Sir.” You could barely hear his mumbled “Good girl” in response; your heartbeat was so loud in your ears, you wondered how he hadn’t heard it yet. And then he dove right in. Licking, sucking, groaning into you as he got a taste of you after you’d barely been able to even talk on the phone for months. You leaned back further, your mouth fell open and you let the moans and gasps flow freely. When you bucked your hips against his face, his left hand came up to grip your right hip; his right hand landed on one of your breasts, pulling down your bra, so he could grab at the flesh and roll your nipple between his fingers.

Your arms trembled underneath your weight as your hands dug into the duvet underneath you. You didn’t even hold back the praise, told him how good he made you feel. In return, he doubled down on his efforts of eating you out like he was a man starved. It didn’t take long for you to reach the edge, but Bob made no move to slow down. Instead, the hand that had been kneading your breast wandered down until he shifted his mouth to your clit and thrust three of his fingers back inside of you, curled them up to hit the spot that sent you careening over the edge with a litany of “Oh my God”s leaving your mouth.

Your arms had now fully collapsed under you as you slowly returned to your body and your chest heaved with every breath as you were gasping for air. Bob pulled off of you and crawled over you, light concern shone in his eyes as he asked if you were okay.

You nodded after a couple seconds of blinking and trying to regain your ability of speech. “That was …”

You’d trailed off and before you could pick up your train of thought, Bob interrupted you: “So, what else did you have in mind for tonight?” His left hand was drawing abstract shapes onto the skin of your right hip and stomach while he waited for your reply.

You groaned, closed your eyes and dragged a hand over your face. “I … hadn’t decided, actually. Either, I ride your cock or you bend me over and fuck me until I can’t walk.” You peered up at him through your lashes with a sheepish grin. You couldn’t place the origin of the flush creeping up your neck and spreading over your chest. It was either desire or embarrassment. Or, more likely, a mix of both.

He chuckled and let his head drop down for a quick peck against your lips, before he shook his head at you. “Jesus, Y/N.”

“Sor–” you’d almost said before a hand over your mouth silenced you.

“Don’t apologize for that. Besides, I did say, I’d do anything for you, didn’t I?” He smiled down at you as you nodded, still somewhat bashful at your suggestion. Without another word, Bob stood up and you whined at the loss of contact as his hands trailed off of you as well. “Don’t worry, darlin’. I’ll be right back where you want me. Where’d you put the condoms?”

Oh, that’s where he was going? No, no, no. That didn’t work with the fantasy you’d sketched out in your mind all week as you’d touched yourself – at night, in the shower… You sat up and grabbed his wrist with a hand to pull him back towards you. “No condom tonight. I’m on birth control anyway for my cramps. And I …” You looked down, wanting to look at your knees, but your gaze got caught on his dick straining against his pants.

“What is it, Y/N?” He leaned back down, put a finger underneath your chin and tilted your head backwards, so you had to look at him. You bit down on your lip and closed your eyes for a second, praying that he’d understand what you were trying to say. “You want me to fill you up, sweetheart? Hm? Feel my cock inside of you, feel me come inside you?”

You nodded, breathed out another “Yes”.

Bob groaned in response. He squeezed his eyes shut, his lightly dominant persona leaving the room for a second as he looked at you again and quietly asked: “Is that why you want me to fuck you from behind?” Again, you could only nod and respond in a whisper.

He chuckled, gently cupping your cheek for a second and brought you in for a slow kiss. You practically melted into his touch and sighed against his lips when he pulled away again. “Well, lose the bra, turn around and get on your knees, sweetheart.” His voice was back to the low, darker and more dominant undertone. His gaze felt heavy on you as you scrambled to unhook the clasps of your bra behind your back and then threw the garment behind you. You’d pick it up later.

You scooted back onto the bed, before finally turning around and waiting for his next move on your hands and knees, completely bare before him now. Your heart fluttered in your chest when you heard him undo his belt and pull down the zipper of his pants. Goosebumps spread over your skin as his fingers traced your vertebrae and his lips pressed kisses against some of the healing bruises on your back. (Nobody had ever said, flying a fighter jet at hundreds of knots and with multiple Gs wouldn’t leave a mark on you.)

The buttons and ribbons on his jacket dug into your skin as he leaned over you, putting part of his body weight on you. He lightly nibbled on the junction of your neck and shoulder and you whined, pushing your ass back against his definitely rock-hard cock. He slipped into you easily, setting a pace that had you squeezing your eyes shut again as you let your head hang low and exposed your neck for his lips and tongue and teeth to mark you up as his, just as his cock marked your pussy.

He kept mumbling praises into your ear in-between groans and moans from both of you. But with how you’d worked each other up, it didn’t take long for either of you to get close to the edge again. “Fuck, darlin’. ‘m so close.”

“Please, Bobby. Come in me. Want to feel you.” You whined at a particularly rough thrust and your whole body shuddered when his fingers found their way down to your clit.

“Right there, Y/N. Just need you to come with me, ‘kay? Can you be a good girl and come with me?”

You weren’t sure if you’d replied to his words when your second orgasm of the night hit you like a freight train. The wave of pleasure pulled you under and you distantly felt Bob’s hips stutter, then still, as he reached his own climax and spilled into you with a low, guttural groan and a mumbled “Fucking hell”.

It took a while for the ringing in your ears to fade out, your breathing normalized as did Bob’s. Although he didn’t move from his spot behind you. Instead, he wrapped his arms around you and pulled your back against his chest as he tipped the both of you over onto your sides. He kissed your shoulder.

“That how you imagined it, sweetheart?”

If you’d had any strength left in your body, you would have rolled over in his arms to look him in the eyes. But as it was, you simply craned your neck a bit, humming at the kiss that landed on your cheek in response. “Better. So much better.”

“’M glad. Have to take care of my new Lieutenant, don’t I?” You heard the grin in his voice and weakly rolled your eyes at the teasing lilt.

“Of course, you do. You’re always a good boy for me and take such good care of me.”

He groaned lowly and sunk his teeth lightly into your shoulder again. “If you keep that up, you won’t have to wait long for round two.”

You chuckled, before fully relaxing in his arms with a sigh. “Good. I was planning on riding your cock while you were still in your dress whites, anyway.”

[novasintheroom]

Morning routine

♡ Pairing - Vash x Reader

♡ Word count - 1k

♡ Warnings - none

♡ Description: Vash is a pain in the morning.

Now part of the 150 Bullets drabble series on AO3.

The sun is rising through the dusty, cream curtains, and Vash is snoring in your ear.

You groan, rolling away as you continue to wake. Vash makes a noise of protest in his throat, blindly reaching for your warmth, settling on the blankets, and pulling them away to burrow in further. The cool air on your arms and legs slaps you awake. You glare over your shoulder at your sleeping man, then, groaning again, stand from bed and head for the inn’s bathroom.

Vash is still snoring away when you emerge, showered and brushing your teeth. You roll your eyes and go over to him, gently slapping his thigh through the tumble of blankets. “Hm?” he says and goes back to sleep. You give your teeth a few brushes, then poke his side. “Hm? What?”

“Get up, we have to leave by eight. Motel rules.”

Vash turns his head toward you, eyes still closed. “What?”

You snort and go spit in the sink. When you’re cleaned up, you come back out. He’s sitting up in bed. His hair is a mess of golden straw, eyes squinting and fighting to open. He looks at you and purses his lips. “It’s six-thirty.”

“Yes, and you take an hour to get ready.”

Vash groans and flops back on the bed. “Do we have to get up? This bed is comfy…” Then, both eyes opening deceptively quick, he says “Come lay down with me, I can hurry and get ready in a bit.”

You lean your weight on one foot and cross your arms. “No, because then you’ll go back to sleep.”

“Please?” He does his best puppy-eyes, lip wibbling. “I never get to cuddle with you…”

That’s a fat lie. This man is a cuddle bug and takes any chance he can to prove it. “No.”

He sits back up. There’s determination in his eyes now; he’s set on winning this. “I won’t fall asleep! Promise! Just fifteen minutes!” He sighs when you shake your head. “Ten minutes? Eight!...Six?”

“I wanna beat the heat. You’re not getting your cuddles – “ You’re cut off when he reaches out and snags your wrist, pulling you bodily back into bed. He’s so quick. Despite your protests, he flips you on your back and lays on top of you. “Vash!”

But he burrows into your neck. His hair is soft, going to your nose and making it tickle. You huff as he gets comfortable, feeling all his weight press you into the mattress. “Ah, you’re nice and warm,” he murmurs. He takes a big inhale through his nose. “You smell good too.”

“You’re such a pain,” you mutter. “Five minutes. That’s it.”

You feel more than hear his laugh. He presses a chaste kiss to your jaw, humming in contentment and nestling back into your shoulder.

A sigh escapes. Well, five minutes isn’t bad. You reach a hand up and start rubbing his back through his shirt. You feel all the bumps of his scars, the metal plates and wires holding him together. He says they itch a lot. You scrub lightly with your nails, careful, and smile at his hum. Minutes pass by like this. You’re not sure how long. But Vash is happy, and that warms your heart.

“Stampede, you’re such a sap.” You say, and smirk as you feel him still on top of you.

“Take it back,” he mutters into your skin. You blow air out of your nose. He pinches your side, and you squeal. “Take it back!”

“What? You’re the ‘Stampede,’ aren’t you?” You bite your tongue to keep from giggling.

He catches it, though. Vash shifts to rest his chin on your chest, bright blues glaring at you. “Not to you. That’s not my name to you!”

You reach up and brush a hand through his hair. “Oh, you mean ‘Humanoid Typhoon?’ AH!”

Vash sits up and pins your legs down with his hips. You struggle underneath, but his hands are already moving. The tickle attack begins. Your laughter rings out fully. His hands poke your sides, wriggle under your armpits, the crook of your neck.

“Vash! Ha-ha-ha-ha! St-ah-ha-hap! Stop!”

He lets out a few laughs, hands digging into your sides ferociously. “That’s not it! You know that’s not it!”

“That’s your name!” You try slapping his hands away, but he catches them and holds them above your head. He leans down and snorts into your neck before starting to bite at it. It’s just ticklish enough. “Vash!”

“Take it back,” is all he says, using his free hand to tickle under your knees. The shriek you let out has Vash laughing all the harder, and he moves to your thighs. You’re squirming, shaking, trying to gain the upper hand – but Vash is too strong. It’s like he’s holding down a little bug to play with.

A Mayfly.

“Say it!” He’s back at your neck biting where he can. His morning stubble scratches your skin. You squish his nose trying to scrunch your neck up. “I’m not stopping ‘til you do!”

“Birdie! Baby!” You finally relent, a few tears leaking out of your eyes and your laughs turning to wheezes. “Love! Sw-sweetheart!”

Suddenly, there’s banging on the wall next to your head. Your antics are apparently bothering whoever is renting the next room. Vash pauses and looks guiltily toward it.

Taking in gasping breaths, you cough, “Oh, you’re in trouble.”

He finally releases you after giving you a look, his smile following. “You started it.”

“Whatever!” You push him off, slapping his shoulder as he laughs and gets up from the bed. “Go get ready already!”

“Alright, alright.” He picks through his sack by the door to gather clean clothes and some soap. The bathroom door closes, and you’re left to recover from the tickle attack. Your sides hurt, your throat is sore.

He's such a pain in the morning. And you love him all the more for it.

[strawurberries]

General head cannons for Vash the Stampede p.2

Summary: General headcannons for Vash the Stampede.

Authors Note: n/a

Warnings: Slight nsfw and angst, mostly fluff.

He also loves playful banter and flirting! But he also hates when the tables are turned on him and you gain the upper hand (at least, that’s what he wants you to think. Don’t tell anyone this—ever—but he actually adores the teasing. He’ll pretend he despises it but in reality, it opens something up in him that he’s a little too nervous to explore). When he has the upper hand though? An absolute menace. He may be devoted, a follower, and someone who will give their soul to you if asked, but he also has that little bastard in him that tells him to make you turn red until you kiss him to make him shut up. 

“You’re a brat,” you had said once, grabbing his hair. Fingers tangled in his damp golden locks, water droplets sliding down his chin from his shower minutes earlier.

He had opened his mouth to respond but the slight pressure on his head. . . you pulling his hair? He was too distracted. He wanted to snap back, grin and see that cute little flustered look on your face but. . . brat? You called him a brat? Oh no, he’s feeling something.

“Cat got your tongue?” you snickered, “where’d all that confidence go? Pretty boy~?”

In that moment, he wasn’t sure if God or the Devil was before him—regardless of who it was though, something was telling him he’d enjoy this interaction nonetheless. Perhaps he wouldn’t mind if his God had a little sadistic side—he blushed and shoved that thought away with such speed it put his gunslinger skills to shame. 

You just grinned, “oh, you love this, don’t you?”

He, quite literally, thought he was going to have a heart attack.

Give him a little praise, maybe a kiss, and he’ll be so far lost in love he’ll do anything you ask. He says that it’s brainwashing but you deny it every time.

“You can’t be human! You’re a witch or somethin’!” he cried, reeling back looking at his bag of two—well, now one—donuts. 

You grinned and took another bite, “you said I could have it!”

“You brainwashed me!”

“Eh?! How would I even do that?”

“You tell me!”

(He cried a little bit over the donut, but you gave him a kiss to cheer him up. He asked for three more before you told him to stop and then he stole another)

In public though, he refrains from touching you as much as possible. If anyone got wind that the “Humanoid Typhoon” got a lover. . . he doesn’t want to think of what would happen. He’ll sometimes indulge in some hand holding, a quick hug, and maybe, just maybe, a kiss. He won’t do anything else though, no matter how much he wants to tackle you to the ground and smother you right there. Your safety is put above all else, even himself and his own wants. He feels bad that he can’t offer you a relationship in public, that he has to don his outlaw persona and watch as you are pushed to the side, but it’s for your sake. If you’re okay, he can bear anything.

Broken bones, cuts, bullet wounds, even a broken heart—he’ll take it all on to keep that smile on your face.

[bts5sosempire]

silent sea (i)

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: toji fushiguro x reader 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 2,510 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭: yandere, dark, horror, psychological horror, death (later), merman au, merman toji, mention of blood and raw flesh (fish) feeding, loose merlfolk lore, etc. 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: "A few years ago, you went missing with a few other marine biologists into the deep sea, only to resurface with untold horrors ingrained within your now soulless eyes. Even moving away from the sea and living more inward inside the island of Bordia didn't help you when you could still hear the sounds of crashing waves and seagulls crying from above. Sometimes the nights were hopeless, and when you closed your eyes, the nightmares began.

But when a typhoon was coming toward your home, flooding the island in the water with more than half the population missing, that's when you saw them. He, out in the open sea. They only allow themselves to venture where the water had occupied." 𝐚/𝐧: been waiting and wanting to write for this dilf for so long that it's here (rather short atm, but will extend). I will not be using my regular boarder as a divider or timestamp skip since that is what has been causing my post to not go through or lagged. Btw, please like if you like ❤️, comment below in the "comment" section 📝 for tagging, and reblogged if you wish to too. Have a nice day lovelies! 💖

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

"Someone come help me!" A fisherman shouts, running toward the ocean where a wooden boat drifts towards the golden wet sand of Bordeia Island. A few others chase after the older man lead. One grabs the stem while the others are at either side of the boat, pushing it toward the shore.

You were lying inside, drifting in and out after spending many days at sea with the sun beating down on you and the cold nights caressing your husk of dehydrated and malnourished form. The gulls were high in the air, crying out while people's voices were nothing but warbles in your ears, and their figures were just blurs in your hazy eyes.

Have you made it? Away... To home?

"Hey, (Name), are you alright? You look a little distant there." This snaps you back to reality; you can't help but make a small sheepish smile. Sometimes you seem much more empty-minded, and today looks like one of the days. "Look, if you're not up for it, we could discuss this another day."

"No, tell me; sorry for tuning you out," you could see them heave a long sigh. Conan Warden is a man who moved to the island about a year ago from the metropolis life. They were a frequented beach boy/ surfer back in their hometown who loved the ocean more than anyone there, and his moving out here to Bordeia Island felt like the right move for them. Conan felt like a perfect slot with the Islanders here; his charm makes him a pretty, unique person.

There was a moment of pause before they repeated themselves for you again. "As I said, a research team would visit the island in a few days." You settle down a mug of coffee before Conan, waiting for him to continue, "They want you to help assist them in their research." You look at Conan with a mixture of curiosity and disbelief. Then a snort emerged as you quirked both brows and sat across from them.

"Do they want my papers or something? I could always give them that," you muse out, but Conan gives you a look of 'Really?'

"No, (Name), they want you fully assist them by going out in the open sea," suddenly, you felt blank hearing those words. A ringing comes into your ears. Conan saw how you had that distant look in your eyes again, and his russet hand crossed the table to tap your arrow cradled around your coffee mug. Every time Conan mentions the sea, this is the response he gets most time. It's not like he doesn't know, but he does learn to a certain extent why you don't venture out in the sea anymore. The locals were quite vocal about your sudden disappearance, along with a few marines biologist, considering you have been a resident for about a decade.

"You know I can't do that," you said; it was already hard enough for you to face the trauma that still lingers around you like a ghost. Suddenly standing up, you take deep, shaky breaths, and; your heart rate picks up as you try to shake off the jitters that seem to take hold of you. Your mug slipped through your fingers and spilled across the table. "Fuck! Shit!" Flicking your hand, some of the hot content got onto the back side of your palm.

Conan helps you grab a nearby wash towel and clear the liquid before tossing the rag into the sink. "Sorry, I didn't mean to act like that," you said with quick breaths, running cool water over your burned hand. You close your eyes to refocus as you train your ears to focus on the running water and the sensation to distract you momentarily.

"You know it's fine; I didn't think it was this bad," Conan was concerned. He couldn't say much; your trauma wasn't something he could ever truly phantom. Conan could only understand to some degree and be empathetic about it, but to fully sympathize with you, he has to go through what you went through to know how it affected your daily life honestly. "You know what, I could tell them to fuck off for you; how does that sound?"

"Thanks, but no thanks. Who is leading the team?" You ask, getting your bearings together and shutting your eyes tightly for a few more seconds. Tilting your head up, you open your eyes and look at your flat white ceiling.

"Um, hold on" Conan search through his pockets, and you shut and turn off the tap water. Gently wiping your hands dry, Conan pulls out a paper, "Some guy name Watanabe Morisuke." You tense up at the name; Conan notices but doesn't say anything. He thinks you have too many jumpscares at this point and that another might add to your untimely demise, making him pretty sad as he considered himself your best friend.

You take the form presented, and a picture at the top left corner is shown. Skimming over the information, you see how Watanabe's head is full of grey and black, mixing like yin and yang.

"I tried to ask for more information, but I was cut off rudely by Professor Eugene." Conan pouts; he mimics Eugene's speech in an annoying high pitch voice.

You laugh as you felt much calmer and put the paper on a countertop. It would help if you remembered to apply cooling gel cream on your supposed upcoming burn that will blister.

°

It was only barely ten a.m., and the sun was already high in the sky, with the heat downing any fisherman or anyone who ventured to the beach. But in the shade was a cool breeze, shifting through. A few days passed, and out in the open sea, a boat was approaching the shore.

The locals used to tourists waited at the pier and were ready to fetch the boat.

Watanabe Morisuke got off the boat and looked up into the sky to see seagulls flying above his head before walking to the land where the pier and boardwalk are connected. His team followed behind him.

"Ah, you must be Watanabe Morisuke, (Name) sent me." Conan came to greet the older man, who pressed their lips tightly. Conan grabs their hand and shakes it with high enthusiasm that Watanabe has to rip their hand out of their hold.

With the boat coming closer, it stops next to the pier. A thick mooring line was thrown down at the wooden boards as a local picked it up to tie an eight-figure on a cleat, then did the same with the other mooring at another end.

"That child could've got me herself; how uncouth of her to send someone in her stead." They frowned, lips thinning. But Conan thinks that that's their natural expression. Without much thought, he explains why you couldn't be there to pick him up.

°

You were pacing back and forth in your house, chewing your lips as you kept tugging the string from your shirt at the height of the collarbone. Your eyes keep drifting to your front door, and most of all, you want to focus on anything, but your house is too quiet. The radio you bought would've helped you, but it's broken. The distant sea raptured inside your ears clear as day like a haunted melody, so your steps suddenly halt. You could almost hear a voice calling you, groaning at you with longing—withering woes of betrayal and agony along the line. Still, a lingering subtle feeling of forgiveness was weaved into the song.

But it gradually got louder and louder until the sound wasn't just whisperers anymore; you felt your skin crawl and the hair on your body spike up. A feeling slowly rouses up in your chest, and the emotional pain seeps and spread like a plague. You shudder a broken breath before your throat closes on you, and breathing becomes much more complicated.

"Don't leave me."

'It's just your brain playing tricks on you.' You tried to convince yourself.

"Come back home. To me."

Their harmonies echo inside your head; you don't want to hear them. You use loud music and noises as sounds to block and cope with things when some days are harder to deal with, like today—the voice you want to forget always returns randomly, and sometimes when you're unfocused or distressed, you think. But walking out of the door and towards the sound was tempting whenever your head heard it. Snapping back is hard without a good startle when a yearning clouds your logic and instinct.

'Why isn't it going away?' You grip and pull the string.

"You said that you would stay."

You jump when your doorbell resonates loudly in the living room, enough to bring you back from your anxiety. Shakingly soothing yourself as you tried to calm yourself with a few deep breaths, you went over to the door and opened it to be greeted by Conan and Watanabe.

Conan didn't miss how alarmed you were but didn't bother to point it out, and there are times you appreciate that he doesn't divulge when people are around. You greeted Watanabe, "Hello... Uncle." Conan squawk; he then looks in between you and the older man with disbelief. You and this man doesn't look the slightest related.

Side-stepping to allow both men in, Watanabe hauled his many suitcases and also made his displeasure known, "Pompous girl, you know how much I detest strangers." Watanabe's eyes flickered toward Conan for a quick second, then made himself at home. Conan didn't look offended at the comment, but instead, he thought, what an ass and insufferable being your Uncle must be.

"I don't like him at all," Conan stands next to you, leaning while whispering into your ear. There was a side glance of agreement coming from you. "How is your hand, by the way?" He continues to whisper, and you show him the bandaged hand and give him a shrug as your answer. Then you turn your attention to your Uncle.

"How long are you planning on staying here?" You ask, wiping your palms down your pants legs.

Your Uncle, who, not even five minutes into your house, sprung his suitcases open and claimed your living room as his. He took most of his clothes out and threw them on the armchair adjacent to your couch. For your coffee table, it had become his research table when he strewed files of papers across it, and it soon became a mountain.

"I just came here on impulse; I have no explicit time on how long I will be staying here." Watanabe's answer got you scratching your head because that's a first. Usually, your Uncle would make a timetable of his schedule since he's a punctual man. "Go get me your papers, girl." You give Conan a look of 'see the shit I gotta deal with?' before going to your room to retrieve what was requested.

You could hear Conan snort behind you.

°

From a distance away from the island, out in the open sea, a figure swam across the blue water gingerly. They have been trailing along Bordea's coast for a few years. Constantly rumbling a song to lure someone out, it was unsuccessful, but defeat wasn't something in their morals of value; their dark sclera and bright forest green eye peered through the navigation of palm trees and high bushes. The furthest they could see were a few houses behind the tall debris.

The hours passed, and the sun dipped low enough that only a fraction of daylight remained. It gives the creature a lot of shade under the giant leaning Live Oak tree to be obscure from any human sight. The sky has darkened to a deep hue of burnt orange and magenta, with dark violet now dominating most of the space in the sky. Even stars of multiple colors and sizes are beginning to litter around their perfect location.

Toji, the merman, was a sea creature that only existed in fairy tales, myths, and stories and was the dominator under the reefs of Bordea Island. He was a light blue-skinned humanoid merman with no fishtail to accompany the original stories. Instead, he has two functioning legs with fins attached to his legs and arms and sharp claws of webbed hands and feet. With veins that are a deeper shade of blue mixed with purple, they were visible across his skin.

Entering through the entrance, they kept going until an opening was above them, and they went up. Toji's head broke through the cave's water surface, and they swam until the water got shallow. They were nearing the dry flat surface of the lair.

The merman lingers for a few more minutes, swimming under the shaded oak, and then sinks beneath the surface. They glide past the corals and go deeper and deeper until an opening of a cave entrance is in their view. A school of fish scatters away, and even sharks that linger nearby make their escape too.

Inside the damp, moist, warm cave, it was quiet besides the dripping drops of water that fell off the stalagmites that hung above. It would let ripple sounds that bounce off into the space. Toji hoisted himself out of the water, the side of his neck was his gills that would move once or so, and unlike his other variations of kin, Toji was capable of surviving out in the open air as long as his skin and gills were able to saturate and constantly absorb damp moisture to prevent him from drying out.

To him being different wasn't the problem, but the prejudice that comes with it. Toji being a merman without a tail, was considered a bad omen. Thus, he was shunned by other merfolks who were born with a tail. Being treated differently was something he had grown accustomed to over time.

But one thing they should be wary about Toji is his prowess; even if he doesn't have a tail, he can annihilate one or more enemies in a single moment. If the man was powerful enough to take a shark and orca with one swoop of bare hands, do they think their spears made from the most robust shells would be enough to stop him?

The answer is definite; it's a no.

°

It was dark, a quarter till twelve; if another quarter passed, a new day would start. You were lying in the bathtub; the water had now turned cold. Your Uncle Watanabe was asleep in the living room, as you were sure you were one of the few individuals still up.

Your injured hand from days ago hangs over the tub; you raise it until it's high enough. You wiggle your fingers to play with the lighting to create shadows above your face. Staring at your hand, you see the tendons flex underneath every twitch under your skin. But your hand wasn't mar at all. It looks like it was never burned in the first place.

[judasviscariot]

vash post trimax being hunted still by humans who just don’t understand and the only one who ever did is gone and yeah he still has milly and meryl but it’s not the same and he’s cornered like a rabid animal, bleeding from a wound that doesn’t heal like it used to and sometimes -

sometimes he thinks it would be easier to just close his eyes and let it end and sometimes he hates nai for healing him at all, hates him for making vash lose him, for making him hate him, and he hates nai for loving him so much it stripped him of everything he ever held sacred

and sometimes he thinks it would’ve been easier to stay on that fucking couch with the corpse of the only one who ever truly saw the core of him and sometimes he thinks he should’ve buried himself in the sand beside wolfwood because he’d be safe, he’d be kept and safe and it would be so quiet, and maybe he’d get a moment’s rest there in the dark where the only one who ever saw the truth of him lies

and he’s bleeding from a wound that won’t close and he’s so fucking tired and the golden chain he wears around his neck is heavy but the laughter that blooms around him, called in on a breeze he can’t feel, is all light

“so, what? you just gonna give up?”

he grits his teeth. the bounty hunters are shouting amongst themselves, coordinating their movements to surround him, cutting off any chance of survival he might have

‘promise me somethin’, spikey.’

the church bells are ringing. they’re always ringing in vash’s head. they won’t stop. liquor burns at the back of his tongue and he can’t wash it down, not with anything.

‘keep smilin’. even when… i’m gone. okay? for me.’

he bares his blunt fangs. black hair falls over his eyes.

it’s always so dark.

‘don’t let them win, vash.

vash.

never said your name enough, did i?

vash.’

tears burn along the seams of his eyelids. the scent of cigarettes and cologne wafts under his nose and vash’s eyes fly open to find the sun blocked by a familiar silhouette.

“c’mon, vash. don’t you give up now.”

he can see his reflection in the preacher’s sunglasses. with a hitching breath, vash lifts a pale hand covered in blood. a small smile curls over that golden face, white teeth flashing around the filter of a crumpled cigarette.

their hands meet. wolfwood tugs vash up from the bloodstained ground where he was content to die.

when he teeters forward, unbalanced and inelegant from the blood loss, wolfwood isn’t there to catch him. the shouts are getting louder. death is coming.

“time’s up,” burrs a deep voice in his ear, “let’s get the fuck outta here, human typhoon.”

and he has to. doesn’t he? because wolfwood was the only one who understood him and now the only life wolfwood has exists inside him - in the memories that make up the ghost vash carries in his ribcage like a second set of lungs.

“run.”

and he’ll keep running. he’ll keep running until there’s no more planet left, and then he’ll run some more. if it keeps this piece of wolfwood alive…

he’ll run forever.

so he does, leaving cigarette smoke and whiskey in his wake, the shape of his spilled blood like a cross in the sand.

[plague-on-the-run]

(( oh yeah, i never posted these (I think); some moments from my thread with @knife-drawer-rp ! +some extra doodles ;;>///> ))

[nomans-land-rp]

"They're calling you WooWoo now, Wolfwood?" Vash, boi, don't be smiling so coyly like that. You have to keep up the good lad behavior.

@knife-drawer-rp

"Better not be!" He snapped back, glaring at the blond. "Unless they're some shrimp who can barely walk and talk, I'm not answerin' to that!"