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tunastime · 7 months ago

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Restful Dreaming, Mr. Freelancer

hi everyone :3 so um. I may have gotten very much into rvb smiles. and you know what happens when I really love something! and when I really love some guys from a something! yeap. here we go again. I just think caboose could be friends with everyone. I'm a caboose enjoyer what can I say. I love him.

Washington follows the Blue Team back to Valhalla, where he tries to get some much needed rest. Emphasis on tries. (3828 words)

When Tucker and Caboose find the unused, fourth room in the base, it’s Tucker that sweeps his arm out and gestures grandly to the room around them. It’s not very large—bed, closet, table, desk, bathroom. Enough space to walk around in—enough blue-white light to make sure nobody goes insane in somewhere so dark. Caboose goes on about how they’re almost neighbors, listing off what they could do being so close, gossip and sleepovers and the like, and Tucker goes on about how that’s nice, Caboose, and sure thing, buddy, and both speak to a Wash that’s not listening. He’s looking over the room, filtering in through a fine layer of yellow, just enough to change the hue from cool to warm, and something settles in the slope of his shoulders. He turns after a beat, folding his arms.

“You’re certain I can stay here?” he asks. Tucker shrugs.

“Yeah, I mean…” he starts, in the way that Tucker always seemed to do when he was on the edge of a decision that ultimately made him uncomfortable. “Just repaying the favor. Plus you’re the only one who really knows how to get Church outta that thing.”

“Epsilon,” Wash corrects. “And it’s a memory unit, not a thing.”

“Sure,” Tucker shrugs. “Whatever.”

“We still don’t know where that thing is,” Wash says, but it’s without any of the usual bored sting he might’ve normally laid on. He can feel the worry in the room like water around the ankles, like it invaded his boots. He steps side to side for a moment, trying to shake the feeling.

“We’ll find it!” Caboose pipes up, nodding several times. “We’ll find Church. I know we will.”

Wash sighs.

“Yeah,” he says. “I hope so.”

There’s a beat of silence. Wash feels his lungs work against the tight feeling in his shoulders all the way up until the point where Caboose breaks the silence.

“I’m going to go make lunch,” he says. “I’m starving.”

“Good point, Caboose,” Tucker agrees. He turns to Wash as he adds: “You, uh, let us know if you need anything. You’ve got the tour, now, so…”

Wash nods.

“Right,” he manages. “Thanks.”

“Sure thing.”

The silence leftover is mostly full of the sound of air circulating through the room and pulling into his helmet. Washington stands in the room in that long moment, finding his head spinning just enough to rock his balance. He’s not so sure he should even be standing, but Tucker had handed him enough med-kits to keep him running, and his bones felt mostly in place, despite some nasty bruising up his shoulder and back, all the way down his right hip and thigh and knee. He pulls himself from his stuck spot, finally gathering the strength to unlatch his helmet. Both thumbs hook under his chin until it clicks, and he sets it in the armor stand.

The thing about the armor is that they’re not necessarily supposed to take it off. It does come off, huge chunks of titanium alloy perfectly compressed to fit each wearer, to sit comfortably against layers of computer arrays and magnetic fasteners, bolts and straps and sealers. As soon as he starts pulling, chest pieces and arm braces come loose, and he sheds the exosuit slowly. Underneath is the cool-black bodysuit. That’s the part that really shouldn’t come off. It did, every once in a while, when there was enough time to spend recalibrating, readjusting, resyncing. The suit and all its layers, down to the skin, down to the channel of his spine, from tailbone to nape of neck, aligned with sensors and biocomponents along a fine, white scar to a thick, but equally healed one at the base of his skull, took time to adjust to. That time was precious.

But it didn’t matter with this suit. There was no connection. The suit would simply communicate without having to know, would respond to forces it knew best, and rely on what he had without a physical, grounding connection. He was free of it. The scar and its components would fade from his body. They’d be nothing but a memory.

Carefully, Wash dissects the titanium bodysuit—kevlar—coming apart at the seam, carefully fastened, skin-tight. It’s uncomfortable at first, adjusting to the air of the base, without the suit’s micro-adjustments for temperature and humidity, but he eventually shirks free and places everything in the armor compartment.

He feels light. He also feels exposed and a little small. He searches for any sort of replacement, sleeping clothes, uniforms, anything plastered with UNSC across the arm or chest or back. When he does find it, he’s quick to pull it on and over his head. The shirt falls crooked across him, pants similarly too large, and he has to wonder what sort of Spartan these were made for, knowing how he certainly wasn’t the smallest soldier he’d met. It’s something, though, and he doubts he’ll be wearing it for very long. In fact, he finds himself tugging it off as soon as he figures out the shower, and douses himself in hot water long enough to get the plastic smell off his skin.

Without the shadow of the day, his reflection in the mirror takes on a sunken quality. His eyes are dark and tired, lines stretching out underneath them, and the already-pale, now-bony quality of his face does little to hide it. He’s turned all sharp angles all too quickly. But if he’s got anyone to bitch to it would be himself. Well, maybe Caboose and Tucker would listen. But they probably wouldn’t understand. Epsilon might’ve ratted out his bad sleeping habits to Caboose, were he still around to actually see them. But he very well was half the reason they existed, so, touche.

Besides, now Wash was looking out on a bed that was impossibly too big for him. He pulls back far too many layers of blankets and pushes aside pillows and makes himself a space between it all.

The lights are dim, casting long, fine shadows in the cool light. They dim further to a blackness as he settles, lying back in the few pillows and pulling still-starchy sheets around him. His tired body all but sinks into the mattress, body aching at every joint from overuse, begging to stay and to be comforted. It's there he lies for a moment, adjusting to weight and pressure, air and texture around him. He sighs. It’s the longest exhale in what feels like a very long time. The back of his throat, up through his nose, starts to burn.

He squeezes his eyes shut. He takes a sharp breath in.

Washington’s hands come up on instinct, pressing the heels of his hands to his eyes as he fights back a sound from deep in his chest. It’s hard—it feels so stupid to call this hard, because he could just crack, just for a second. Just for a moment of relief, and—he does, shutting his eyes tight still and willing in a breath through his nose as he turns his face into pillows that he hopes were nobody else's and probably never were and never would be again. Nobody knows he’s alive. Not Command, not Project Freelancer, not the Meta—Maine. Not even Epsilon. For now. The weight off his shoulders was so instant it nearly winded him, on a bed seemingly too large. It was simply him, unshackled, and the blue-white armor in its case, and Caboose, and Tucker. And the base around him was quiet.

Washington lets his body relax. Sleep comes like a heavy blanket.

His second week’s worth of sleep doesn’t go as well. Tonight, Wash is still awake. It’s not of his own choice—if it were he’d already be asleep, curled into the plush pillows and firm mattress. He stares up at the ceiling. His eyes are dry, and it’s not all that comfortable to blink, actually. He’d prefer to focus on sinking into this nice bed, but he’s having a bit of a hard time. What he means by nice bed is that he’s gotten so used to sleeping on the ground or in the back seat of a moving Warthog or the jet or his cot so folded and unfolded that it stopped being comfortable, or the bunk that was just the right size but not nearly deep enough to fit him without moving, that having actual room to move around is really good. It’s really good, actually, and he’s not sure when the last time he had such a nice sleep was.

He’s not even sure when he woke up that first day, aside from the fact that it was Caboose waking him up and it was still dark out—or had just gotten that way. Maybe he’d slept that whole day. But he wandered around the Valhalla base instead, swallowing down the ache low in his spine. He mapped the rooms in his head, twisting around the circular hallways. Kitchen, armory, five rooms, garage, a small central living quarters that remained barren and empty, aside from bits of broken computers, radios, and robot parts. The floor still smelled like cleaner, remnant from the UNSC’s thorough cleaning.

Anyway—he’s still awake in his own room. His eyes hurt. He’s looking into the dark grey ceiling and wondering if sleep might crawl its way back to him when there’s a knock on the door. There’s a brief pause before it happens again. He frowns, scrubbing at his eyes as his brain fights the fog settling over it.

“Agent Washington,” a voice says, feigning a whisper through the sliding door.

“Caboose?” he whispers back, furrowing his eyebrows. Isn’t it late? He looks over to the bedside table, reading the dull red numbers on the clock—yeah. Late. “What are you still doing up?”

He hears Caboose sigh. If he thinks hard enough he can imagine him leaning against the metal frame, cheek pressed against the door, looking about as pathetic as he sounds.

“I can’t sleep,” he says, part tired and almost part sad.

“Why’s that?”

“I—” Caboose lowers his voice even further. “I had a nightmare.”

Wash blinks slowly, sitting up, eyebrows still furrowed as he frowns. He counts himself lucky that his head isn’t spinning from lying down too much. Sighing, he presses his fingers to his eyes, rubbing the sleep from them, trying to make the blurry room come back into focus.

“You—” he tsks as he words jumble in his brain, hazy with sleep. “Why did you come here?”

“Can I come sleep with you?” Caboose asks, completely ignoring the previous question. Heels of the hands to his eye sockets. Alright. Fine. He waves uselessly at the door, knowing full well Caboose can’t see him. Then it clicks in his brain: response. Right.

When Wash goes to give him an answer, it’s replaced by the sound of his bedroom door sliding open and shut and Caboose wandering in. The muddled dark obscures his silhouette more than usual and the normally wide slope of his shoulders was much more drawn in than Wash was expecting. He’s partially shrouded by his own blanket, wrapped around him as he steps in.

Wash feels something rolling around in his chest as he watches Caboose shuffle over, like his brain isn’t absorbing the situation properly. He mostly just feels lost. He’s still sitting up, slouched forward, mouth a fine line. His arms pool in his lap, head tilted just so as he observes Caboose in front of him. This is weird, right? Not in a bad way. It’s just weird.

Caboose stands there, frowning just a little bit, enough to almost be a pout, mostly looking at the bedside and not at Washington.

“I—” Wash starts, trying to protest. Caboose looks up at him for a moment with wide, brown eyes, and Wash feels his chest tighten. He shuts his eyes, sighing out of his nose. Then he pulls the covers back, gesturing vaguely to the space next to him as he lies back down. If there was one thing he’d learned from Caboose, it was that there was no arguing a point once he’d made his mind up. He was as stubborn as he was strong, and the man wasn’t slight.

There’s a beat of silence as Washington gets comfortable again against the mattress again, feeling Caboose move to his left. He worms around a bit, knee bumping the outside of Wash’s leg, elbows knocking together as Caboose makes more of Wash’s bed his own space. With Caboose’s arm now pinning his own, he clears his throat.

“Caboose,” he says firmly.

“Washington,” Caboose says, like his name holds the same weight as it did so long ago. At least someone’s impressed.

He sighs. Caboose is a heavy, warm weight against his side, and although he clings to his left arm like his life might depend on it, Washington couldn’t necessarily call it bad.

“You can either get comfortable,” he says slowly. “Or I’m going to ask you to leave.”

“Okay,” Caboose says quickly, wriggling further over. As his head lolls, it falls against the bone of the high of Wash’s shoulder. He ends up curled up in the space Wash’s side leaves open, head on his shoulder and arm over his ribcage. He’s heavy, holding himself and Wash to the mattress as he relaxes. Wash’s arm ends up pinned under him, bendable at the elbow, enough to shift around and find a comfortable spot to rest it. Caboose manages to pull the blankets over them both haphazardly, lying part on him and part over Washington’s torso. He squeezes his eyes shut. Caboose cannot be serious. This can’t be his solution, right? He takes a long breath in. Caboose finally says:

“Thank you, Washington,” in a soft and sleepy voice mostly muffled by his shoulder.

Washington sighs.

“Sure, Caboose,” he says, resigned. “Glad I could help.”

Caboose hums, sounding comfortable. In the time it takes for Caboose to finally knock out, how short of a time that was, Wash finally relaxes. He lets the weight around him settle him on the mattress, tired and heavy, and lets his eyes close. He can’t catch the edge of sleep just yet, but he can lay here, quiet and still, so that Caboose can sleep. He matches the slow rise and fall of Caboose’s shoulders, feeling his muscles slacken as he drifts off. Maybe it’s nice, actually. The weight against his side, pressure to the muscles that ache, warmth and heavy comfort. He can’t remember the last time someone shared the same bed space as him—those bunks were too small to really fall asleep next to somebody in, and sleeping in shifts wasn’t the same as someone sleeping against you.

He can faintly feel where Caboose’s cheek is crushed against his shoulder, where his arm rests over his chest, hand tucked against his other side. When he looks over, Caboose’s eyes have shut, face relaxed in sleep. There, he leans, pressing his cheek to the top of Caboose’s head, squeezing his eyes shut. Maybe it is nice. Maybe being needed for something so innocent as comfort could be nice. His chest twists, something as painful as it is warm weaseling up next to his lungs.

It reminds him of Invention. Nobody really wanted to leave York alone after the accident on the training room floor. He could fall or trip, he could miscalculate and hit into something harder than expected. They spent time crammed into the bunk spaces, shoulders to shoulders, to hips, to legs over knees, trying to catch sleep in between missions, how little time that was. Washington found himself in these moments more often than not, and now more than ever it seemed that touch was a thing not often disseminated. But he had it now, and he let himself have it. He let Caboose snore into the hollow of his shoulder and tuned it out as he tried to rest.

In the morning he’ll ask him what bothered him so much that he couldn’t sleep, or why he thought Wash could help. It wasn’t important now.

For now, he just tries to sleep.

Wash feels heavy.

He blinks his eyes open, the world coming to in barely-there light and soft blankets. There’s a weight over him, warm and solid. Caboose still sleeps soundly even as Wash shifts to stretch pins and needles from his left arm. The world stays still, held in a quiet balance. In it, Caboose breathes slowly and evenly against his shoulder, torso still haphazardly thrown across Wash’s chest. He’s curled his hand in a loose fist, snagging part of Wash’s shirt.

Washington sighs. There lingers a heavy, groggy feeling over his mind that he thinks he’ll have a hard time shaking, remnants of running too hard, too fast without stopping. He fought so hard only to again come up empty handed, aside from the now-bitter taste of his freedom. But for now he focuses on this moment. He rests his cheek against the top of Caboose’s head.

As he does, Caboose hums, waking enough to tense and relax again.

“Good morning, Caboose,” Wash manages tiredly, lying still. Caboose doesn’t move either, except to shift his cheek to a more comfortable position.

“Hello, Washington,” Caboose says, slow and sleep-thick but cheery. “You let me stay!”

Wash huffs out something, maybe a laugh and maybe a sigh.

“You’re surprised?” Wash asks, staring at the ceiling. It takes a minute for Caboose to answer, and in that time, Wash’s eyes shut, too heavy to hold open. Caboose draws his arm back from his chest.

“Tucker’s not very cuddly,” he says, only partially answering the question. “I can’t really judge if people will like it.”

“I take it not many do?” He asks. Caboose shrugs, somewhat stilted, speaking in that long, sighing way that he does.

“It varies.”

Wash hums.

“Right.”

In a beat of silence, Caboose unravels himself. He sits up, swaying a bit, shuffling around. It leaves a cold hollow where he used to lie, and Wash pulls his arm back from where it used to curl around him. He folds his hands over his sternum as Caboose sits up and shifts back.

“How did you sleep!” He asks, leaning forward, arms resting on his knees. Wash nods, finally blinking his eyes open.

“It was fine,” he says slowly. “How did you sleep?”

Caboose shrugs again.

“I slept okay—” he says. “You scared off all my bad dreams I think.”

Wash snorts, furrowing his eyebrows. Caboose blinks down at him with wide eyes. It’s almost catlike, the way he watches over him, like he’s waiting for Wash to reach out and force him to move out of his space. He’s still slightly blurry, courtesy of the sleep in Wash’s eyes.

“I did?” Wash asks. Caboose nods, looking sincere

“Yep.”

Wash looks away, huffing out. Something turns in his chest, warmly at that.

“Well that’s good,” he says. Caboose nods again. He’s just far enough away that in the dim lighting Washington can’t really read his face, but it seems soft and comfortable and Wash tries to remember if that’s a good thing. There’s only so many times you see someone’s face while being out in the field that you sort of just learn reactions based on tone and less on body language. After a beat, Wash says, haltingly, brain trying to find the words:

“Caboose, what… what is it that you had a nightmare about? What—why did you come to me?”

Caboose shrugs, waving his hands back and forth. He’s not looking at him.

“Oh, you know, just about Church and Epsilon, and Tex, and you, and everyone dying and exploding and dying again,” he sighs, shoulders falling, looking distinctly less bothered than Wash expects him to be. It puts something cold-to-cool in the pit of his stomach. “But it’s okay, you’re still here! And nightmares are afraid of you.”

Wash swallows.

“Oh,” he says lamely. It doesn’t feel right, all of a sudden, to just be sitting here. Caboose tilts his head at him.

“Did you have a nightmare, Agent Washington?” he asks, leaning forward a bit. He squints at him. Wash stares back, eyes wide. “You look kinda pale.”

“Um, no,” he says plainly. “No I don’t… normally dream.”

“Oh,” Caboose says. His face drops. “That sounds sad.”

Wash shakes his head.

“It’s fine.”

Caboose hums, tapping his hands on his knees.

“You can tell me if you ever have a nightmare,” he says, smiling, a pleased look crossing his face. “I can come and scare it away.”

Wash snorts, a smile creeping onto his face. He folds his hands together, tracing out the edge of his thumb with his other thumb. He furrows his eyebrows as he looks up at Caboose.

“Are you looking for an excuse to sleep next to someone?” He asks, a curious lilt to his voice. Caboose blinks, eyes falling to his hands. He shrugs.

“No…” he says. Then, “Maybe.”

“Well it…” Wash sighs, shutting his eyes again. “It was nice. Thank you, Caboose.”

“Mhm,” Caboose says sleepily.

There’s a moment of silence. Wash moves to get more comfortable, shifting back to rest his head properly on the pillows. He can feel his body sag as he does, that tired tug pulling on his shoulders and hips and eyes. He drums his fingers against his sternum, watching Caboose. Caboose’s eyes slip shut for a moment as he leans hand against his hand.

“I’m uh…going to try to get some more sleep,” he finally manages, clearing his throat. Caboose stays still, as if he’s fallen asleep again, shoulders weakly rising and falling as he breathes. “Caboose?”

There’s no answer. Caboose leans sideways as Wash goes to reach for him, folding like he’d lost all his core stability. As he crumples, he falls forward, half onto Wash in front of him, half into the bed itself.

“Caboose,” Wash tries again. Caboose doesn’t move, sinking further into his side.

Wash sighs. Caboose stays, solid and heavy and thrown over his chest. He feels like a little kid again, sharing a room with his sisters, or he feels like it’s some time back in training, both cats making their home on his chest. Caboose was kind of like a cat. If a cat were a dog, were late to the punch, were the same level as unable to catch the joke as he was. It was kind of sweet. Wash shifts him ever so slightly, until he’s leaning into his side again, head against his shoulder.

Caboose yawns, sighing out against his shoulder, shuffling to get comfortable. Wash curls his arm over his back, hand cupping around his shoulder, smoothing his thumb over the seam of his shirt. Caboose makes a little noise, a little sigh, and falls quiet. The world, too, is warm and quiet. Somewhere in that warmth, a soothing feeling washes over him.

Just a little more sleep, he thinks. Then he’ll get up.

#red vs blue #rvb #rvb caboose #agent washington #michael j caboose #rvb wash #rvb washington #rvb fic #fics #text #so for context this takes place in season 9? end of season 8 into 9 #but i'm all the way in the chorus trilogy at this point so >:3 wheheeh #BITING TUMBLR VERY HARD FOR DELETING MY FIRST DRAFT WITH ACTUAL TAGS < they saved it to the wrong blog #whatever here we go again!! i am still scared this time but myke and shepherd are holding my hands so its fine #tunastime is an rvb fan who would've thought wow #spins around so fast and falls over #i can't wait to be insane about myke's art next yippeee :3

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bubacorn · 9 months ago

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hc: Vessel is bad at receiving compliments and being told that he is loved (hug inspired by this one, @ghxstly-death put it into words perfectly. thank you, Eden!🫂)

Thinking about Vessel who can't accept compliments, not because he doesn't believe them (that too), but because he'd heard them so many times in the past related to small, unimpressive things. Not 'I'm proud of you', just 'You did good', an automatic response to any and all achievements. He did good. He didn't know what 'good' meant, but apparently, he did that. He has no idea what was good about what he did, so he continues to push himself, to not be a disappointment. If he does good, then that should be enough, right?

He tries for great, for excellent, for something more, but he always gets 'good', unrelated to the effort and time he put into something. He knows he shouldn't wish for more specific compliments, or anything else, really. He should be grateful to be regarded. Everyone around him is so busy, they can't possibly have time to listen to him talk about how in reality, he has no idea what he's doing. How things sometimes just click but he can't tell if what he did is actually worth anything or it was just pure luck. How he doubts himself at every step but learned to hide it, because he has to be good. And good means coping and dealing with things by himself and quietly, because then he will be told that he did good and who wouldn't want to be good?

Vessel who hears 'I love you' for the first time (said with actual love behind it for the very first time) in a really long time from II. He wouldn't tell the other that, but it's clear from the surprise and the hopeful longing in Vessel's eyes. His friend told him he loves him and he doesn't know what to do with that, so he hesitantly steps to him and begins to lift his arms in question. II's heart squeezes at his shyness, after all, the other has spent months alone in the manor, so it's understandable that he would have grown unaccustomed to touch. But then II has to pull Vessel against him, because the man sort of hovers his arms around his frame as if he doesn't know how to approach a hug. Like he isn't sure what is expected of him and what is too much.

Vessel is surprised when II squeezes around his torso, when he brings one arm around his shoulder and the other to his neck, trying to bring Vessel down towards him, like he wants to protect and shelter him. That's strange, but Vessel finds that his arms want to stay wrapped loosely around II a bit longer and just as he starts to pull away, II again says "I love you, Vessel", and Vessel's brain freezes. II squeezes him tighter and Vessel feels so warm and strangely loose (he's afraid he will unravel if he stays too close for too long) and small even though he towers over his friend. His friend who is now holding him and who apparently loves him.

The only thing in his mind stumbles from his tongue in the form of a quiet "Why?". He didn't do anything exceptional. He was showing II an arrangement and said he wasn't sure if it was any good, letting his fingers dance over the keys, feeling like he was stumbling through music. He felt like it captured that familiar insecurity, and he liked it and hoped II would like it, too. Even if it didn't make it into a song. Then II said he did like it, that it feels like Vessel is unsure but it gives the melody a unique flavor, and that Vessel was great for translating that feeling into music.

"'Why?' ?" II's answering question is filled with such disbelief that Vessel wants to hide. He said something inappropriate, something secret that had previously only been dwelling in his mind, in a dark corner, and now he feels exposed. Why did he even open his mouth? Not good. Definitely bad.

Vessel is slumping against II a bit, like he doesn't know how to hold himself upright anymore, like he needs support. II must feel it, because he's still holding him, and it's been minutes and Vessel tries to squirm away, to save any dignity he might still possess, and II lets him slip out of the embrace, but his arms linger like he doesn't want to let go of his friend. His friend who just blurted out the worst response to a confession of gentle affection. Vessel looks so worried when he catches II's gaze and he immediately averts his eyes and takes a few small steps back, unconsciously gravitating towards his piano for protection, a sense of safety.

"You're my friend, Vessel," II tries approaching the man with soft words, "You're kind and considerate and a damn good musician," Vessel stops backing away when the back of his legs hit the edge of his piano bench, but he's still looking at the floor, "You pour your heart into writing and playing and it's amazing to see. You're committed, but patient and you help me every time I need. Even when I'm too embarrassed to ask," II tilts his head and steps a bit closer to try and catch Vessel's gaze, "I know you don't see it and I'm sorry that you can't because it's true. I would never lie to you about this, Ves. I love you, you're my best friend," Vessel presses his lips together, so II adds, "Not just because we live in the middle of bumfuck nowhere. You're the best friend I've ever had. And I'm glad Sleep led me to you."

Vessel gives him a look that shows he tries really hard to believe him, and adds in such a low voice it's almost a whisper, "I love you, too," as if he's embarrassed to admit it. But it's not embarrassment, II realizes, it's disbelief, it's some sort of deep shame about needing someone else, of relying on anyone else but himself at all times. And it makes sense, considering Vessel's nature, but II could never put it all together, since large chunks of Vessel's past were unfamiliar to him. He could have guessed based on how the man acted, but he didn't want to assume anything. It felt disrespectful. Vessel would share if he wanted.

"And I'm really glad you found me," just a beat of silence, before he adds, in an even quieter tone, if that's possible, "And that you stayed," Vessel risks a bashful glance towards II, and sees him blink rapidly, shocked by the implication of the other's words, before he shakes himself and steps closer to Vessel. He searches his face for apprehension, but doesn't find any, so he gently puts his hands on Vessel's upper arms and sits him down on his bench. Before Vessel can react, II has his arms wrapped around him, one around his shoulder, and the other's hand cupping the back of his head and cradling it to his front.

"You're important to me, Ves. You're special and precious and I love you," II's fingers caress the man's shoulder and card through his hair, "I want you to know that I'm here for you any time, okay?" Vessel is still stunned and he's sure he's going catch on fire if he gets any warmer. II twists a lock of hair around his finger, "Okay?" Words form and die in Vessel's throat so he just nods, rapidly, almost hurriedly, and II lets out a small chuckle. "You're amazing, you know that?" he nuzzles into Vessel's hair for a moment to murmur, "And adorable," II sways with the man in his arms a little and Vessel is sure he will combust. His face is flaming against II's shirt and he tries to suppress the half grimace-half grin on his face and feels unreal. "C'mon. Tea break?" II smiles down at him and offers a hand. Vessel can stand on his own, but doesn't reject the offer. He likes the warmth of II's hand and he can always use the stability and the reminder of the other's presence. II soon replaces his hand with a mug of tea, but it's considerably colder to Vessel. The contrast is especially palpable when II brushes his knuckles against Vessel's as he's handing him his tea. The mug is warm, but II's skin is burning against his. But it's not bad. It's a good burn. It makes Vessel feel alive. Seen. Loved?

Vessel learns that he doesn't have to prove himself to other people to receive love. Love is not something that has to be earned in their home. Love is not a reward, not something that Vessel has to work for, then be disappointed that in the end, it isn't actually given to him. He tried being good in the past, being silent and keeping his head down and being a good kid, but the warmth and the unconditional love didn't come. He still tried, though, he always tried his best, but apparently that wasn't enough. Or there wasn't actually love at the end of that tunnel. It was just a play of light. But that would have been cruel and Vessel would like to think that people in his past weren't intentionally unkind to him (he won't admit the truth to himself for a while).

II often tells Vessel that he's proud of him. For speaking up. For telling him when he's having a bad day. For asking for distance when he needs it and closeness when he feels like he will drift away. For admitting to messing up, when he falls back into bad habits of self-destruction and isolation. For doing a grocery run by himself even though he goes home almost shaking and has to spend the next hours under a blanket on the couch, because it was simply too much. For crying when he talks about memories that he tried his hardest to forget but he just can't. For asking for help and letting II help him, even though it's hard. It's really hard, and Vessel apologizes for it, for being fucked-up and broken and damaged goods. For wasting II's time and being a burden, a needy, greedy thing. Wretched. Minus human.

But II tells him he loves him and that he could never be a burden. That he will always be worth it, he always has been, and that he's sorry that people in Vessel's past couldn't see it. Couldn't see him for all that he is. For the friend who pays attention to little details so he can show his friend how much he values him. For the guy who bakes his friend a complicated cake for his birthday because he off-handedly told him he can't even remember what it tasted like, even though it used to be his favorite. For the amazing composer who can capture emotions one doesn't realize one has. For the hard-working, curious kid who thought that being obedient and not questioning authority was the way to earn praise and affection. For the little boy who thought something was wrong with him, that he did or didn't do something and that is why he couldn't feel loved. For the child who cried and cried, silent and under the cover of the night, hoping that no one would hear (and secretly hoping that somebody would and they would come and save him from the gaping emptiness that made its home in his chest, way too big and scary for a boy that little). For the boy and then the man who couldn't cry anymore but thought that that is more than alright, at least he can finally keep it all inside. For the partner who allowed himself to be vulnerable with someone he trusted. For the partner who made sure his other knew he was always welcome, even though his brain sometimes tried to tell him otherwise. For the partner who grew comfortable with expressing casual affection so much that terms like 'darling' became second nature to him (and for the way he blushed when II told him that). For the man who learned to accept that it's okay to admit to not being okay, to need someone, to want to not feel alone, to feel cherished, to have his feelings validated. For the man who can tell his partner anything and does, because he knows he can speak his mind and that there will be someone who listens.

II wanted to see Vessel. Vessel let him. Even before he showed the uglier and less than perfect parts of himself, II loved him all the same. It was never about being 'good' and silent and compliant. Vessel is good. Vessel is not good. He's amazing. He's perfect. He's wonderful. He's cherished. He's incredible. He's valued. He's seen. He's listened to. He's heard. He's finally, finally loved. Has been for longer than he dared to think. Will soon be by more people than he thought possible.

#Vessel was a gifted kid who tried to push through burnout and mental illness #waiting for someone to tell him they see and love him and are proud of him #and you can't change my mind #making myself sad first thing in the morning #what else is new #<- it's night since then but this still applies #yes i included a Metallica reference (almost two). fight me (please don't i have shrimp-like arms and get scared easily)#also #tumblr scared the crap out of me earlier #i posted this privately after it posted instead of saving it as a draft #and apparently it was visible #and i got so freaking scared cause this wasn't finished #so i apologize for deleting and reposting #but my heart stopped for a moment and i whispered like 10 'shitshitshit's at my computer #i should be reading for a class tomorrow #sleep token headcanons #buba writes

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spigosaur · 1 year ago

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hatchetfield hc

the lords in black used to have 2 sisters but then wiggly realised he’s actually a man

Ooooo the Lords in Black and Gender! I have opinions on that!

First of all, more power to you and your trans headcanon!! I have a very different idea of the lib's (and by extension Wiggly's) genders, but I fully support this.

I myself like to lean more into the eldrich horror aspect of the Lords in Black rather than humanising them too much, and the point of eldritch horror is that it's so different from anything we know that it becomes incomprehensible. Gender is a human concept, so why would these eldritch gods adhere to it?

I think of them as inherently agender and the gendered language and presentation they use says nothing about them or their identity, it's more of an aesthetic to play around with that doesn't actually mean anything. To them gender is more like clothes than an actual part of themselves. And the he/him and masculine gendered terms of the Lords in Black is basically a uniform.

That's why Webby is the only one to whom her gendered presentation actually means something. Not because she actually identifies as a woman, but because she uses it to distance herself from her brothers. I imagine that if and when she was still part of the lords and evil herself, she would have called herself a Lord in Black rather than a Lady in Black and gone by he/him too.

Thank you for the ask and I'm sooo sorry it took me this long to answer.

#first tumblr deleted most of the reply when I was almost done and then it didn't let me edit the draft ._.#I've also just been pretty busy but tumblr wtf #anyway this was the reason to talk about my gender opinions for the lib that I've been waiting for #hatchetfield #lords in black #the lords in black #lib #wiggly #webby #wiggog y'wrath #headcanon #gender #tgwdlm #black friday #npmd #hatchetverse #starkid #team starkid

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thedaythatwas · 3 months ago

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rip to the genuinely brilliant meta essay I wrote last november and deleted one minute after posting because I thought it was an objectively weird time in my personal life to be posting nagito komaeda character analysis. I can’t remember what you said exactly, but I fear (hope) I’ll never come that close to spiritually communing with komaeda again. lost but never forgotten.

#it was a blow by blow indictment of the anime’s portrayal of him #I thought it fundamentally underwrote the most important elements of his character #namely the ways he finds agency within his acceptance of his luck cycle that they just. flat out ignore or contradict!!#scared to give it another try because I really don’t think I’ll hit the notes I managed to hit on my first draft #damn it tumblr I wish you had a recover deleted posts function!!#rambling

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aphverse-confessions · 3 months ago

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I have a conspiracy theory that whoever is in charge of this account keeps track of the people who forget to turn on anon for their confessions whether by simply keeping them in the ask box waiting to be answered, or by screenshotting them. And when the day finally comes for this account to be defunct there will be BLOODSHED.

that or you secretly work for Jess, or ARE HER! *que dramatic music*

Okay I was gonna post this as a normal confrssion but I changed my mind. So all of my response is in the tags teehee

#okay so abt that first bit #I do save certain off anon confessions but not for nefarious purposes #If you send smth off anon and then immediately send the same thing on anon I delete the off anon one and queue as normal #however #if you send something off anon and don't specify in that or a subsequent ask that you don't care abt anon #I usually save it #at least for a little while #in case someone comes in like "hey where is my ask?!'#then I can tell them its off anon or whatever #I used to send off anon asks back to poeple's inbox but I don't think anyone knows you can do that so no one ever checked or resent one #and I don't screenshot or leave in the inbox #I move all asks I choose not to post to the drafts #because I queue from mobile and I don't need a bunch of random asks at the bottom of the inbox #(I am not queuing from mobile right now but I think that's the first time lmao)#eventually I delete old asks in drafts #but if you sent smth recently and it was never posted I probably still have it #unless tumblr ate it #🤭#🩷#aphmau confessions #aphmau #aphblr #aphverse

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velvetjune · 8 months ago

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Spoilers for Alan Wake/Control games and DLCs: one of the things I really like in Alan Wake 2 is the confirmation that, no, Alan can’t create something out of nothing. There were implications in-story that supported that, but it was good to have that be a big part in the sequel. The AWE control dlc easily made it seem like Alan himself had a role in the events of the game and the formation of the FBC, and, personally, seeing it through that lens cheapened a lot of the game and Jesse’s story. Instead, having his writing influence the Hiss and try to manipulate (even out of desperation) Jesse/the FBC to end Hartman and get help, fit right into plot and conflicts of Alan Wake 2, with Alan being sympathetic, but also an asshole for trying to change and control people’s lives in his writing.

#since the awe dlc dropped I was slightly worried that it was going the meta route of Alan writing everything in control #but since Alan wake 2 I’ve been. thank god that wasn’t the case 😭#this way makes everything more complicated and mysterious. which I appreciate. makes everything creepier #will say. it’s still wild how much Alan can influence the narrative.#light spoilers for the final draft but—> makes me think of the writers room video where he doesn’t know what he’ll be at the spirals end #like I don’t think he’ll be Evil or anything. but it’s unnerving #might delete #Alan Wake 2 my beloved #so many times in that game it could’ve gone a direction that would’ve lessened or soured the story but somehow it didn’t lmao #more game spoilers but for ex: Alice coming back at the end instead of leaving it with her demise in the documentary #when I first saw that it was devastating. but also wasn’t sure what to feel if that’s how she’s gone from the story #having her actually manipulate her photos. become art to make Alan think she died. go to the dark place and help him and saga #that last video left me Speechless it was so good.#esp after how much I disliked Control (spoilers here) for quickly ending with Dylan in a coma and not much else.#could not be happier with how the AW2 ending played out and the clear love for all its characters #REALLY hope that Control 2 ends in a good or interesting place. give dylan some focus!#not tagging this bc I’m just yelling my thoughts. but knowing tumblr it will somehow be seen on every tag 😵‍💫

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lavenoon · 2 years ago

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What kind of outfit would *Eclipse* like to see on his s/o? Hehehe!

And the snipe at everyone who wasn't sniped before, incoming!

Eclipse fortunately has no timelines to account for, so this one will be a bit shorter. Though we are getting reaction and preferences!

His focus is above all comfort, as someone who dislikes dressing up because of how restrictive it gets. Suits with four arms just aren't all that comfortable, which is why he opts for turtlenecks!

But if a partner likes to dress up, and they have outfits they like to show off, he's all for it! Chances are, he'll be awestruck - and the rest of his reaction depends on the outfit itself.

He's a trinket and accessory fiend, but he knows they get snagged on things easily, so he won't rush up to them to hug and twirl them unless he knows he won't risk tugging on necklaces or earrings where it might be uncomfortable. So if the outfit includes accessories, he'll most likely go very quiet and just hover near them but not quite touching, hands fluttering from accessory to accessory. With his partner's okay he'll start fiddling and prodding though, just to look closer! About as giddy as you'd expect, of course <3

As for what clothes he likes, this man is whimsical. Sleek and elegant is nice, yes, but he wants whimsy! Patterns or fun colors, suits with holographic shine, or contrasting colors are great! Loves flaring dresses, long or short, with ruffles or not - he just wants to get lost in the mesmerizing flare of a twirling skirt if he invites them to an impromptu dance! And, like with suits, bows are a bonus! <3

Definitely also the touchy kind, I mean, the man has four hands! Would love to assist with anything if only to stay close and have an excuse to sample the textures, he's curious, he wants to know! Will near immediately forget the actual purpose of whatever event is being attended, and if he gets to see them at home he'll be very put out if they can't be talked into skipping the boring formal event to instead be his entire focus for the day/ evening! Would definitely be open to (comfortably, so for him the turtleneck/ suspenders combo) dress up for just a little park or picnic date. That's what whimsy is for! And if you make up your own reasons to dress up, he won't be as sad about only seeing you all fancy only for events where he has to focus on something else, too, and keep PDA to a polite minimum!

#answer let luce #lulu-lullabies #dcamv #accidentally undercover #i wont say how many nerves it cost me to get tumblr to cooperate with me on those example pics #bc it took way too long to get this to work #tumblr kept deleting them :')#but yes some eclipse #im drafting this so no one will care but. now lets go answer the other ask or my first line will make absolutely no sense

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lily-orchard-gossip-blog · 2 years ago

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You know it really doesn't help your case when you have to pretend not to be able to understand what Lily actually said about choking someone.

If you want to call out Lily for things she says please stick to things she has actually said and not what you want to pretend she says.

You must be new. Because she said exactly what we said she did:

Tell me anon, what does that look like?

Because to me, it looks like Lily is pushing all responsibility of choking onto the sub.

She is actively saying there is no precautions one can take to do the activity safely, when in fact, there are thousands of experienced Doms and Subs out there who would tell you otherwise.

Leaving everything up to the Sub, and to have all responsibility of knowing when to stop onto the person being chocked, is dangerous.

The sub could pass out before they reach that point and then die. The dom could crush their windpipe and kill them if they don't know the proper techniques.

I can guarantee you, telling a judge that "it wasn't your fault, the sub knew the risks" isn't going to fly when you get arrested for killing someone.

Lily is actively spreading information and a mentality that could get someone killed, and the fact your defending this makes me sick.

#my first draft got deleted #and it was so good #curse you tumblr #receipts

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soupforsoup · 7 months ago

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I've tried THREE. TIMES. to upload my mediocre robby edit that I finally made after it's been rotting in my brain like one of cassandra's visions for two weeks but tumblr wants to stomp me to the curb and spit on my dying corpse my beloathed ihateyouihateyouihateyou

#I keep trying to draft it so I can let it marinate and check things before I post #and tumblr says oh you want to delete? you want to delete this post right?#the post you've had to come up with 3 different captions and tags for because your brain is like a sieve you want that to dissappear right?#I just- OH MY GAWWWWWDDDD #LET ME POST MY SHIT FIRST-TIME EDIT OF THE LA VALLEY'S MOST TRAGIC KARATE BOY #personal #robby keene #cobra kai #edit #editing #whats a queue ass bitch?

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baby-yongbok · 3 months ago

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Tumblr just posted a fic I had drafted for Saturday and I almost had a fucking heart attack. Oh well, my Jeongin fic OnlyFans is out... against my will.

#This has never happened to me before 😭#That fic was supposed to go up tomorrow or Saturday #But i guess 2am is an okay time?#First tumblr deletes some of my asks #then it posts my drafts??#i love it here #skz

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09lover · 11 months ago

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What is paradox live? The characters look cool

wowidjehdj WOW WOWAHDH.… IM SO GLAD YOU ASKED. TEARS UP

Paradox Live is a hiphop music project where 8 groups (originally 4 at first) compete in the competition called Paradox Live in Club Paradox, standing a chance to win 10 billion yen as well as an opportunity to challenge the legendary rap duo Buraikan!!!

How it works is that once one gets accepted, they will be competiting against the other group(s) with their own composed music that follows the given theme of each round…. It is also followed up by a provided voice drama that comes in two parts or more and music video (shown every round) that features the competiting groups + their interactions with each other.

To further support themselves, they can hold Phantom Lives that requires them to use accessories specialized with the material called Phantometal which chemically reacts with their DNA and emotions to create illusions on stage. But unfortunately after the usage of their phantometals they will then suffer (a rough estimate of a few hours later) from illusions of their past trauma which is called Trap Reaction…

After each vd and mv drops for each round, people are able to vote on which group they think the mv was best and also fitting to the theme in order for the group to win and progress!! you can gain multiple votes by achieving some stuff but i kinda forgot that how to…

so yea its basically like milgram!! voting system + mvs and voice dramas!! except the vds are really long help. AND THE ANGST IS HEAVY IN SOME OF THEM…..

#has a mental breakdown over how the first draft was deleted by tumblr #es’ asks #sear <33 #IT WAS MY OPPORTUNITY #shoutout to sear pupa mimi and mairu…

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timeguardians · 5 months ago

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“Are you frightened?” - amoret to elizabeth maybe some fun ghost / pirate adventure?

The wooden decking gives off a guttural, twisting groan beneath otherwise steadfast feet. Tattered sails above the blonde's head flap ominously, offering whispers of danger upon the backs of the wind. A promise of death hung headily in the soupy, heated-air.

Was there something, out there? Had she imagined a hulking figure piercing in and out of the cloud-like billows of fog? Sharpened oaken orbs more keenly afix to the horizon as Elizabeth strives to swallow down a growing sensation of dread. Elizabeth Swann may consider herself unflappable, but her countenance tells another story. Especially, as Amoret's voice spooks her from her station.

Swann squares her jaw, tipping it upright just enough that her honeyed curls catch the salted breeze. "No. Of course not." She does her best to sell an insignificant white lie. "Why should I be? Ghosts are but imaginary, fairytale-like creatures. Therefore, the chances that they'd be able to harm, or seriously maim, are nill." She mutters. "Right?" Then turning her gaze back to Amoret she inquires, "are you?" @swevene

#muse: elizabeth swann #answered ask #swevene #tumblr deleted my first draft and I seriously cried.#RuDE autoupdate. Got up to get myself water XDD

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meri-meri-mwah · 2 years ago

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Luis Sera is the type of man to melt into oblivion if you scratch the back of his head and call him a good boy, especially during a cuddle session.

Like you two are just chilling in a small cabin, sprawled out on a clean bed. Luis is resting his head on your chest, relaxed, and then you suddenly place a hand on the back of his head. He doesn't question it since he thinks you're gonna twirl strands of his hair like usual (his hair has been getting longer lately). But then you start scratching it and say, "You've been working hard, babe. Such a good boy~" And now Luis is burying his face into your chest to hide his reddened face (and to prevent a sudden mewl from coming out).

#luis sera #resident evil #resident evil 4 #resident evil 4 remake #re4make #re4 #soft luis hours don't touch me #Tumblr is trying to silence me istg #if you saw me delete my first post no you didn't #i got interesting stuff in my drafts dw

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masterofrecords · 1 year ago

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The Ravages of Time episode 2

Oh this is… a fun one. For you, not for me, because “The Book of Later Han” doesn’t exist in an English translation. There are some excerpts out of order included in the Zizhi tongjian (Comprehensive Mirror in Aid of Governance), but the relevant chapters from that have also not been translated into English, as far as I can tell. So. Uh.

I did my best with the notes available on ctext and my own knowledge; this translation is obviously less reliable than actual professional translation (like Liu Bei’s biography excerpt I will post for episode 3), but hopefully it will still provide some context. Again, I just want to impress that as far as I can tell, some parts of this excerpt have never been translated into English, and so my ability to compare notes was limited.

That said, the Dong Zhuo entry in Rafe de Crespigny’s “A Biographical Dictionary of Later Han to the Three Kingdoms (23-220 AD)” is at least partially based on “The Book of Later Han” and has been invaluable in helping me make sense of the donghua card, as has been the baidu article on Dong Zhuo that is written in much simpler language than a Han dynasty chronicle.

I’m going to suffer similarly on episode 13, I believe – the ones before are either only referenced from historical records (and seem to be modern Chinese, though I haven’t yet had the chance to take a proper look), or have translations available. Zhao Yun’s biography, however, has not been translated from what I’ve seen.

Episode 2

[From historical records on Dong Zhuo] Dong Zhuo, courtesy name Zhongying, was born in Lintao county in Longxi Commandery. He had a fierce and resourceful character, in his youth spent time among the Qiang [1] and befriended many distinguished people [2]. After he returned home, many followed him, and Dong Zhuo had a lot of livestock slaughtered for a grand feast with them. His guests were impressed, and upon return, gathered a thousand heads of cattle to give him, acknowledging him as a great swordsman. After the Emperor’s death, General-in-Chief He Jin and his subordinate officer Yuan Shao conspired to kill the eunuchs, but the Empress Dowager resisted, so He Jin ordered Dong Zhuo to bring the troops to the capital to threaten her. When Dong Zhuo arrived, his foot and horse troops only numbered three thousand. That was too little, and in order to , Dong Zhuo for four or five days had the troops exit the camp every night, only to make a big show of them entering the next morning so Luoyang would think his army was getting reinforcements. Dong Zhuo than took control of He Jin and his younger sworn brother Miao’s troops [3]. He also convinced Lü Bu to kill the imperial guard Ding Yuan [4]. Dong Zhuo’s army grew significantly. Dong Zhuo gathered the officials in front of the Palace and threatened the Empress Dowager into deposing the Emperor Shao [5]. He said: “The Emperor is in mourning and has no heart, he is not fit to be the Emperor. Remove him to be the Prince of Hongnong.” – excerpt from “The Book of Later Han” – Biography of Dong Zhuo

[1] Qiang – ethnic group from northwestern Sichuan

[2] distinguished people – not necessarily nobles, from what I understand, but usually people in power, could refer to rebel leaders or tribal chiefs, for example. I ran into a bit of a cursed loop with this word – one of the sentences used to showcase the usage of it on baidu was… the very same sentence from “The Later Book of Han” I was trying to figure out.

[3] This abridged version kinda… skips the moment He Jin and He Miao die. He Jin was killed by the eunuchs, while He Miao was killed by He Jin’s faction for sympathizing with the eunuchs. Politics.

[4] Lü Bu was Ding Yuan’s protege, but looks like that’s not mentioned in Dong Zhuo’s biography.

[5] Emperor Shao – Liu Bian

Once more, read more for 2000-years-old spoilers!

Liu Bian is depicted as a child here, but it is likely he was 17 when Dong Zhuo came. Admittedly, "The Book of Later Han" contradicts itself on this in different chapters - he could be 13.

As you can see from the above excerpt, Yuan Shao was... very much there when it happened. In fact, he and Dong Zhuo had a discussion about deposing Liu Bian in favor of Liu Xie - and Yuan Shao was against it. In the end, Yuan Shao left the city and Dong Zhuo had to be persuaded not declaring him a wanted man.

A massacre did happen, but that was before Liu Bian was deposed, it seems.

You might be wondering about Lü Bu's weapon - I certainly was. It is a ji (戟) - sometimes translated as a spear or a halberd. This is how historical ji typically look like:

This, however, is how Lü Bu is often depicted.

It seems to be a later modification? It's actually a bit confusing, in all honesty, but it's definitely used in modern martial arts. Regardless, the donghua continues the tradition of depicting the Sky Piercer this way.

In general, Lü Bu is quite a legendary character, in part thanks to his depiction in "The Romance of the Three Kingdoms". There are a lot of legends about him that we might or might not see later in the donghua, so I'll save them for now. I'll just say that his horse - Red Hare - is almost equally famous, to the point where it was said "Among men, Lü Bu; Among steeds, Red Hare."

I'm not sure if the numbers of murdered ministers and other officials has any basis; if they do, I haven't been able to find any indication of that. Dong Zhuo did use his power to have some officials executed; and there was a massacre beforehand where along with the eunuchs, many young men in the palace were killed, but the massacre depicted in the donghua seems to be greatly exaggerated.

The Sima family was indeed caught in Luoyang at the time of these events. It also seems to be true that Sima Lang was at some point arrested. His escape, however, was far less dramatic - he bribed his way out.

As for the first encounter with the legendary trio of sworn brothers - I'll leave that for the next time, when I will present to you the excerpt from Liu Bei's biography.

#the ravages of time #masterofrecords translates #stupid tumblr deleted the first version of my notes and i'm grumpy #but yes! here it is!#i finished the rough first draft of the translation for ep4 so this can come out

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