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sombritas-des · 16 hours ago

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Dam

-body count au- -Driftcells au- [previous] ------ Why re-reading this I felt like drawing this just the pure expression reminds me of this whole chapter...anyways, I hope I haven't bored you all with this ----

The Drifter's hands stroked the Beheaded back, his fingers tracing gentle patterns on their skin. He felt the tremors running through their body, the subtle shaking of their frame as their arms holded him for dear life.

"Crying?" he whispered, his voice soft and gentle.

The Beheaded response was immediate, their voice rough and husky. "Shut it."

But the Drifter didn't push the issue. Instead, he pulled them closer, his arms wrapping tighter around their frame. He held them with a quiet strength, his presence a steady comfort.

The Beheaded trembling grew more pronounced, their body shaking with suppressed emotion. But they didn't pull away, didn't try to hide. They just let Drifter hold them, their face buried in the crook of his neck.

At that moment, the Drifter understood. He knew that the Beheaded tough exterior hid a deep well of pain and vulnerability. And he was honored that they felt safe enough to show it to him.

And they showed ,Beheaded body shook with sobs, their tears soaking into the Drifter's shoulder. They couldn't remember the last time they'd cried, couldn't recall the sensation of emotions flowing so freely.

It was as if the vessel had unlocked a dam, releasing a torrent of feelings they'd long suppressed. And yet, it felt right. It felt like a weight was lifting, like a burden was slowly being removed from their shoulders.

Drifter held them close, his arms a steady anchor in the storm. He didn't try to shush them, didn't attempt to stem the flow of tears. He just let them cry, let them release all the pent-up emotions that had bottled up over decades, he could only imagine how this felt for them.

As they wept, the Beheaded felt a sense of peace creeping in. It was as if they'd finally found a sense of permission, a sense of safety. They were allowed to feel, allowed to be vulnerable.

And in that moment, they knew the Drifter was right. The vessel was changing them, awakening something deep within. But they didn't care. They were too busy feeling alive.

The Beheaded sobs slowly subsided, their body relaxing into the Drifter's embrace. They took a few deep breaths, their chest heaving as they struggled to compose themselves.

Drifter's arms never wavered, his hold gentle but firm. He waited patiently, his presence a comforting constant.

Finally, the Beheaded trembling stilled, their breathing slowing to a gentle rhythm. The Drifter's soft voice broke the silence."Are you alright?" His voice was lace with concern but held the genuine sentiment of care.

The Beheaded nodded, their face still buried in the Drifter's shoulder. They couldn't meet his gaze, not yet.

The Drifter's hands stroked their back, his touch soothing. "I'm here," he whispered. "I'm not going anywhere."

The Beheaded voice was barely audible, their words muffled against the Drifter's shoulder. "I...I don't know what's happening to me."

The Drifter's hold tightened, his arms enveloping them in a warm embrace. "You're feeling," he whispered. "You're finally allowing yourself to feel.”

The Beheaded mind was a maelstrom of emotions. They were only familiar with a few feelings, like rage and anger, but this was something new. They felt happy, but with a tinge of sorrow. They wanted to cry and scream again, but at the same time, they felt loved.

Their mind was a jumble of emotions, but the Drifter's grip anchored them. They buried their face in the Drifter's shoulder, feeling safe in his arms.

The Drifter held them close, his arms a steady presence. He knew the Beheaded needed time, time to understand and accept their emotions. He didn't try to offer words of comfort or solutions. He just held them, letting them feel the storm of emotions.

As they stood there, the Beheaded sobs slowly subsided, replaced by a sense of calm. They felt the Drifter's warmth, his steady heartbeat, and his gentle touch. And in that moment,after so many years, they knew they were not alone.

The Beheaded arms slowly wrapped around the Drifter, embracing him in a desperate hug. The Drifter's smile grew wider, his eyes crinkling at the corners. He could feel the dampness of his clothes, the remnants of their tears, but he didn't care.

In fact, he welcomed it. He welcomed the vulnerability, the openness, the trust. He knew that the Beheaded tears were a sign of their growing connection, a sign that they were finally allowing themselves to feel.

Drifter's arms tightened around the Beheaded, holding them close as they stood there, swaying gently. He could feel the Beheaded heart beating against his own, their breathing slowing to match his own rhythm, a feeling he never thought he'll be able to get.

For a moment, they just stood there, wrapped in each other's arms, savoring the warmth and comfort of their embrace. No words were needed, no explanations or apologies. Just the gentle touch, the soft breathing, and the quiet understanding that they were in this together.

The Drifter's hands gently pried the Beheaded arms loose, his fingers tracing the contours of their face. The Beheaded grip hesitated, their instincts screaming to hide, to conceal their vulnerability. But something about the Drifter's gentle touch, his soft smile, put them at ease.

With a subtle nod, the Beheaded allowed the Drifter to pull back, their face slowly emerging from the shadows of their embrace. The Drifter's eyes met theirs, his gaze warm and tender, filled with a deep understanding.

For a moment, they just looked at each other, the Beheaded face exposed, their emotions raw and unguarded. The Drifter's eyes roamed their features, taking in the subtle signs of their vulnerability – the red-rimmed eye, the faint smudges of tears, the slight tremble of their lips.

The Beheaded gaze faltered, their eyes dropping, but the Drifter's fingers lifted their chin, guiding their gaze back to his. "You're strong," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "Inside and out.”

The Beheaded gaze dropped, their gaze casting downward as to hide away the confusion in their eye, but the Drifter's gentle fingers lifted their chin once more. This time, the Drifter's lips brushed against their forehead, a soft, gentle kiss that sent a shiver down their spine.

The Beheaded eye fluttered closed, their heart skipping a beat as they felt the warmth of the Drifter's touch. It was a tender moment, a moment of pure connection, and the Beheaded felt their defenses crumble.

As they opened their eye, they met the Drifter's smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners. The Beheaded thoughts swirled, a realization dawning on them - maybe vulnerability wasn't so bad, at least not around the Drifter.

The thought was foreign, yet tantalizing. The Beheaded had spent centuries building walls, fortifying their defenses, but the Drifter's gentle touch, his kind words, made them wonder if it was okay to let those walls down.

The Beheaded gaze held the Drifter's, a spark of connection igniting between them. In that moment, they felt a sense of belonging, of being seen and accepted for who they were, vulnerability and all, but at the same time it made them feel weak or something close to it.

The Beheaded hands gently pushed the Drifter away, creating a subtle distance between them. It wasn't a forceful or rude gesture, but rather a hesitant attempt to conceal their vulnerable moment.

The Drifter's eyes never left the Beheaded face, his expression understanding and empathetic. He knew the Beheaded pride was a fragile thing, and he respected their boundaries.

With a soft nod, the Drifter leaned back, giving the Beheaded space to collect themselves. He didn't try to fill the silence with words or attempt to close the distance. Instead, he waited patiently, his presence a gentle reminder that he was there for them.

The Beheaded gaze dropped, their eye hiding behind a veil of lashes. They took a deep breath, their chest rising and falling as they struggled to regain their composure.

The Beheaded hand rose to their face, their palm gently wiping away the remnants of their tears. They took a few deep breaths, their shoulders sagging as they struggled to compose themselves.

Their posture remained slumped, their shoulders dropped in a subtle sign of defeat. But it wasn't a defeat of will, rather a defeat of their carefully constructed facade.

Drifter watched them, his eyes patient and understanding. He knew the Beheaded was fighting an internal battle, one that required no words or actions from him. He simply waited, his presence a warm oasis in the maelstrom of thoughts that swirled inside the beheaded.

The silence between them was heavy with unspoken emotions, a palpable sense of vulnerability that hung in the air like a challenge. But the Drifter didn't shy away from it. Instead, he leaned into it, his gaze never wavering from the Beheaded face.

He waited for the right moment to speak, for the Beheaded to open up and reveal their true feelings. And when that moment came, he would be ready, his words a gentle balm to soothe their fractured soul. The waiting game had its payoff as beheaded shoulders finally relax as they took in a deep breath.

The Beheaded voice was barely above a whisper, their words laced with self-doubt and vulnerability. "I'm a disaster, I'm right?"

The Drifter's eyes lit up with understanding, his expression softening as he moved closer. "You're not a disaster," he said, his voice gentle but firm. "You're just... complicated."

He paused, his gaze roaming the Beheaded face as if trying to decipher the puzzle that lay before him. "I think that's what draws me to you," he continued. "The complexity, the layers... the depth."

The Beheaded eye narrowed, their gaze searching for any sign of deception. But the Drifter's words were laced with sincerity, his tone genuine.

"You're a puzzle, Beheaded," he said, his voice filled with wonder. "A puzzle I'm eager to understand."

The Beheaded shoulders sagged further, their defenses weakening.The Beheaded defeated chuckle was a small victory for the Drifter. He smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners, as he heard the nickname "Drippy" slip from their lips.

"Ah, that's a good sign," he thought to himself. The use of nicknames was a subtle indicator of comfort, a hint that the Beheaded was slowly letting their guard down.

"Drippy, huh?" he replied, his voice light and teasing. "I'll take that as a compliment." As a subtle smile parted his lips.

The Beheaded gaze met his, a hint of a smile playing on their lips. For a moment, they just looked at each other, the tension between them dissipating.

The Drifter's heart swelled with hope. Maybe, just maybe, he was getting through to the Beheaded. Maybe they were starting to see him as more than just a stranger, more than just a nuisance.

[Masterpost] [Next]

#hyper light drifter #the drifter #beheaded #sombritas talks #beheaded bcau #driftcells #body count au

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sombritas-des · 3 days ago

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Reasoning

-body count au- -Driftcells au- [previous] ----- *hands you popcorns* dont ask just scroll down -----

The Drifter's hand flashed out, his palm connecting with the Beheaded cheek in a sharp, resounding slap. The sound echoed through the air, leaving both of them frozen in shock.The Beheaded eye widened, their gaze locked on the Drifter's face, their expression a mix of surprise and outrage. For a moment, they just stared at each other, the tension between them suffocating.

Then, the Beheaded face twisted in anger, their eye flashing with a fierce inner light. "How dare you," they hissed, their voice low and menacing.

The Drifter stood his ground, his eyes blazing with a fierce determination. "You need to snap out of it," he growled. "You're not beyond hope. You're not beyond redemption." Drifter simply glare.

The air was thick with tension, the silence between them crackling with energy. It was as if the very fabric of their relationship had been torn apart, leaving them standing on opposite sides of a deep, yawning chasm.

The Beheaded gaze burned with rage, their good eye flashing with a fierce inner light. But the Drifter's eyes only shined with hurt, a deep and abiding sense of being forgotten.

As if the bonds they had formed, the laughter they had shared, the adventures they had undertaken together, meant nothing now. The Drifter felt like he was staring into the eyes of a stranger, a stranger who had once been his friend,his partner, his…

The Beheaded took a glance back, their chest heaving with anger, but as they looked into the Drifter's eyes, they saw something there that gave them pause. They saw the hurt, the intense sense of betrayal, and for a moment, their rage faltered.

They didn't think, they just reacted, their anger and frustration boiling over like a pot left unattended. But now, as they looked at the Drifter, they began to understand. They began to see that their words had caused harm, that their actions had consequences.

The Beheaded gaze faltered, their eye dropping to the ground, their shoulders slumping in defeat. "I... I didn't think," they whispered, their voice barely audible.

The Drifter's voice was laced with bitterness, "Of course you didn't think, you never do!" The hurt in his eyes was a palpable thing, a deep and abiding wound that seemed to stretch back years.

The Beheaded flinched, their gaze snapping back up to meet the Drifter's. For a moment, they just stared at each other, the tension between them crackling with energy.

But as the Beheaded looked into the Drifter's eyes, they saw something there that they hadn't seen in the drifter's eyes. They saw the depth of his hurt, the weight of his frustration. And somehow, that hurt grounded them, brought them back from the edge of their anger.

The Beheaded shoulders slumped, their chest deflating as they let out a slow breath. "You're right," they whispered, their voice barely audible. "I didn't think so. I never do."

The Drifter's gaze narrowed, his eyes searching the Beheaded face. "Why?" he asked, his voice low and rough. "Why do you always act without thinking?"

The Beheaded gaze dropped, their eye fixed on the ground. They simply remain silent as to fear something could ruin this even more, they were too uncomfortable to stan the gaze of the drifter,but the drifter knew better than to not succumb at the tempest.

The Drifter's hands moved slowly, cupping the Beheaded cheek in a gentle gesture. The Beheaded flinched slightly, their eye flashing back to the Drifter's, a lingering memory of the earlier slap still fresh.

But as their eyes met, something shifted. The Beheaded gaze softened, their expression relaxing into a tentative trust. The Drifter's eyes held a deep understanding, a sense of compassion and empathy.

"I'm sorry," the Drifter whispered, his thumb tracing the curve of the Beheaded cheekbone. "I was wrong to slap you. I know you're trying."

The Beheaded gaze dropped, their eye welling up with tears. "I'm trying," they whispered, their voice cracking. "I don't want to be this way. I don't want to hurt you."

The Drifter's hands cradled the Beheaded face, his touch gentle and reassuring. "You won't," he said softly. "We'll work through this together. We'll find a way to heal, to move forward."

The Beheaded gaze lifted, their eye locking onto the Drifter's, a sense of hope and connection sparking between them. Beheaded resistance crumbled, their body relaxing into the Drifter's touch. They craved it, needed it, like a parched plant craves water. Their chin came to rest on the Drifter's hands, their eye closing in blissful surrender.

For a moment, they just breathed, the warmth of the Drifter's skin seeping into their own. It was a feeling they hadn't experienced in decades, a sense of normalcy they thought was lost forever.

The Drifter's hands cradled their face, his touch gentle and soothing. He didn't say a word, just held them, his presence a comforting balm to their frazzled nerves. Beheaded eye fluttered open, their gaze meeting the Drifter's. For a moment, they just looked at each other, the connection between them palpable.

"Thank you," the Beheaded whispered, their voice barely audible.

The Drifter's smile was soft, his eyes warm as he whispered back. "You don't have to be alone in this. I'm here for you.”

The Beheaded massive frame enveloped the Drifter, their arms wrapping around him like a shield. They pulled him close, their chest pressing against his, their face burying in the crook of his neck.

For a moment, they just held each other, the world around them melting away. The Beheaded didn't care about the notes, or the vessel, or the potential problems. All they cared about was the warmth of the Drifter's body, the beat of his heart, the gentle touch of his hands.

The Drifter's arms wrapped around the Beheaded waist, his hands tracing gentle patterns on their back. He didn't try to pull away, didn't try to speak. He just held them, his presence a steady anchor in the storm.

The Beheaded grip tightened, their body trembling with emotion. They felt seen, felt heard, felt understood. For the first time in decades, they felt like they were home.

At this moment, nothing else mattered. No notes, no vessel, no prophecies. Just the two of them, wrapped in each other's arms, their hearts beating as one. -----

[Masterpost] [Next]

#morning boop

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