invisible scars (referenced previous talk here)
[ID: A colourless, digital Trigun comic of Vash and Wolfwood talking about Wolfwood's scars. They're both laying in bed and topless. Vash lays on top of Wolfwood, playing with the rosary around his neck. Then, Vash kisses a spot on Wolfwood's chest. Wolfwood asks, "What are you doing?" Vash smiles sadly, "You got shot here. In the last town we visited. You didn't even bother moving."
Vash props himself up over Wolfwood, who frowns slightly. Wolfwood is quiet for a moment before he says, "You remember that, huh?" Vash grabs Wolfwood's left wrist and brings it to his face. "And here." He kisses another spot there. "When you helped free the hostages from that robber..." Wolfwood dismissively says, looking away, "Was a lucky shot." Vash huffs, “Don’t brag. Jeez.”
Half of Wolfwood's expression is shown, eyes returning to Vash who is now sitting up, continuing to say, "And..." Vash goes on and kiss Wolfwood's right palm. "You got cut here, even though that girl was aiming at me." A moment from the past flashes, of Wolfwood grabbing a knife aimed at Vash, his hand bleeding.
At present, Vash moves down and puts another kiss on Wolfwood's right shoulder. "And here, from watching my back." Another memory flashes of Wolfwood and Vash back to back. Vash looks back as Wolfwood grins while holding Punisher, bleeding from multiple gunshots in his shoulder.
"And," Vash combs up Wolfwood's hair to reveal his forehead, "Here." A final memory shows Wolfwood with a regeneration vial in his mouth while getting shot on his temple. The next panel is framed in blood with Vash at the center, eyes wide and stunned in horror. The next panel is a closed up shot of Wolfwood's eye, locked on Vash's face.
Back to present, Vash’s head is bowed down as Wolfwood raises a hand to his nape and says, “Spikey.”
Wolfwood looks serious and frowns as he says, "We talked about this. Those were my decisions. They're not there anymore. Forget about them." Vash looks very sad before he smiles ruefully and says, "I still see them. All the time." He leans down so they touch foreheads. Wolfwood’s sorrowful expression can be seen as Vash says, "You protect so much. I could never forget what you've done to me. And many others..."
In the last image, they're drawn more cartoonishly. Wolfwood sweats and asks, "You don't actually remember every wound, right?" Vash points at a spot on his chest. "Kuroneko left a scratch here 7 times." Wolfwood, startled, says, "Why the hell are you keeping count—" End ID]
Credits for ID here and here
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"A van Dyck," Dream drawled, dragging a light finger along the gilt frame of the painting propped on the top of one of Hob's shelves. Hob really should do something more formal with that. "Interesting thing to have in your living room, Hob."
"I tell people it's a print," Hob said, coming to stand beside him and handing him his tea.
"Oh, but it is not." There was a smirk dancing on Dream's lips, Hob knew without even looking at him directly.
"Makes sense that you'd be able to tell," he sighed.
"Of course. Just how did you come across such a thing?"
"Well, I was still mingling with the aristocracy in the early 17th century. Met some interesting people." He shrugged. "Really should have sold it when I was, well, destitute, but couldn't bear to. Managed to stash it away. One of the few things I have of that time, actually."
"I can only imagine you had more than one valuable thing in your possession over the centuries," Dream mused, sipping his tea. "Why this one?"
Oh, God. He knew, didn't he?
Hob rubbed at the back of his neck. "Reminded me of you."
Hob had never known much about art, particularly back then. He hardly would consider himself a collector and certainly not a connoisseur. But that particular portrait had caught his attention immediately for its similarity to Dream.
The likeness was, indeed, striking. His hair was longer than it had been when they'd met in 1589, sweeping over his shoulders, and his features were half-draped in shadow, but his eyes. Hob would know that haughty, intense gaze anywhere.
He'd never quite discounted the idea that it was a portrait of his stranger, except that he couldn't imagine him having the patience or cause to sit for it, or the desire to be immortalized in that way.
"It is me," said Dream.
"What? Seriously?" Hob turned to stare at him and found Dream already looking back, ethereal and lovely. There was only one lamp on in the living room, night falling around them, and it cast his face in a similar light to the portrait, soft gleaming skin and plunging darkness as backdrop, limitless shadow in his eyes. "You, allowing a portrait? You're not having me on?"
"I do not joke." Dream took a step closer to him, setting his tea aside on a table. "I suppose I must have been in good humor that day."
Hob raised both eyebrows. "Oh, uh-huh, you in good humor?"
Dream's lips ticked up in a half-smile. "It happens occasionally."
Hob leaned against the shelf, careful not to jostle the painting. "For someone who so disdains the waking world, you sure are very aware of the art scene."
Dream leaned beside him, tilting his head. "You might consider me a patron of the arts."
Hob chuckled. "A patron? Or an inspiration?" He reached out and dragged his thumb along Dream's lower lip. "Dream?"
"A lover of artists, perhaps."
"I'm sure." Hob swept a hand along his cheek, breaking up the light like he was dragging a wet brush through paint. "You look like you could have stepped right out of that painting right now. You could have stepped out of any painting."
Dream looked at him from under his lashes. "Are you calling me a work of art, Hob Gadling?"
"Always."
Then Hob kissed him, hands framing his beautiful face. Dream was like an artwork, constant in essence but changing interpretation in every new light. Hob could imagine how many people over the centuries had had a fleeting encounter with him and come away changed, just as he had.
Dream hovered near him when they parted. Hob looked over to the painting again. No mere depiction could capture Dream in all of his colors, but it really was a rather good try. Van Dyck had gotten the depth of his eyes just right.
"The Baroque period suits you," Hob told him.
"Now who knows something about art?"
"I've picked up a few things over the years. I'm in love with the world's greatest artist, after all."
Dream moved in as if to kiss him, but paused to speak against Hob's mouth. "There are other works of me out in the world, if you care to seek them out."
"Don't open that challenge because I will do it," Hob informed him, quite seriously.
"I hope so." There was a sharp gleam in Dream's eyes. Hob could only imagine what kinds of paintings might inspire that look. "I look forward to seeing what you find."
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“Pearl? Why are you in my house?”
Pearl blinks up at Bdubs from where she’s sandwiched between the wall and the waterstream, curled up on herself in the narrow space. “Somebody destroyed all the lights in my base and now it’s full of mobs,” she says bitterly.
“It wasn’t me!” Bdubs cries, raising his hands.
“Well, I didn’t think it was you, but the way you just said that’s making me think—”
“No! I’d never! I swear!”
“...I believe you,” she says after a moment, and Bdubs feels himself relax. “Can I stay with you tonight? I don’t really feel like…” She gestures in the direction of her house.
Bdubs nods. “Oh, sure, for sure,” he says. Then, “Should we invite Joel over? His house got blown up too.”
“Ah, yeah, probably. Good idea, Bdubs.” She fumbles in her pocket for her communicator, eventually fishing it out. The screen is cracked. Her fingers shake as they tap against the glass.
“Are you okay there, Pearl? You look a little…” Bdubs forces his hands to tremble.
She glances up at him, face scrunching in confusion, before she lets out a small laugh. “Just the adrenaline, y’know.” She grins. “I’m red. It’s great.”
“If it was anyone else, I’d think they were being sarcastic. But with you! With you, I’m pretty sure you’re being serious!”
She giggles, hitting send on the message and shoving her communicator away. Bdubs doesn’t feel his own buzz; it must have been a whisper. “You know,” she says after a moment, “I’m a little surprised.”
Bdubs blinks. “Surprised about what?”
“That there’s still three of us.”
He laughs. “Yeah, I’m a little surprised, too! I thought for sure Joel would die today. For sure.”
“Don’t let him hear you say that.”
“Oh, no, never. But between you and me… that guy’s kind of a loose canon!”
She snorts. “Throwing stones from glass houses, there, Bdubs?”
“Surely I don’t know what you mean.”
“Mhm.” She pauses, eyes glancing down to where her fingers pick at a stray thread on her hoodie sleeve. “That’s kinda what I mean, though. Joel doesn’t live here, and you’re making friends with half the server, I’m surprised I’m not spending tonight alone.”
“Pearl…”
“What?” She snorts. “I know how these games go, Bdubs. People don’t stay loyal. Not for long, anyway.” She glances up at him, eyes half obscured by her hair. “People like Joel, people like you? I know how this ends.”
And Bdubs—
Well, he can’t pretend he doesn’t know what she means. Can’t pretend he doesn’t remember Impulse yelling as Bdubs’ arrow had found home in his throat. Can’t pretend he doesn’t remember Etho backing away when Bdubs had tried to get just a little too close. Can’t pretend he didn’t fight when he promised he’d run. Can’t pretend he hadn’t taken advantage of his broken home.
…He can’t pretend he doesn’t remember telling Martyn about their plans, or planning to do harm to Etho. Can’t pretend he doesn’t cross his fingers behind his back every time he makes a promise, just in case.
But at the same time, he remembers—searching for Cleo in a castle she’d been too dead to return to, pushing Lizzie to her death for a life he’d never received, taking two hands in his own and vowing to face the end as four instead of two, for once, for once in his life, choosing three and being pulled apart because of it—
Bdubs lets out a breath. “Pearl, hey, no,” he says. “I told you, didn’t I? I’m your weapon.” He gets down to his knees, lowers his head before her, feels her gaze burn into the top of his head.
“Bit late for that,” she says. “I’m my own weapon now, mate. Don’t need you to attack for me anymore.”
“Well, no—but—” He looks up at her. “Pearl. I’m yours. I promise.”
“Right. And you’re Martyn and Etho’s too, huh? We can share.”
“I’m using Martyn!” he protests. “That’s—that’s all it is—I’m usin’ him because he’s the first red and he knows his stuff! And Etho—”
“I don’t mind about Etho,” Pearl interrupts. “Like I said, I know you guys have your little thing going on. I don’t care about that.”
“I set a trap in his base,” Bdubs blurts.
Pearl blinks at him. “Excuse me?”
“I set a trap in his base. Tripwire hook.” He grins. “Right outside the bedroom. I—I think I got Grian, in the end? But—could have been Etho. I coulda—could’ve been Etho.” He swallows.
“And you’d have been okay with that?” Pearl asks, smile gone from her face, expression suddenly very serious.
“I—after I set it, I went up to them. Had a chat. Lied the whole time. I coulda—coulda told him. I didn’t.”
“And you’re okay with that?” she stresses.
She sounds dubious. Bdubs can’t blame her. He feels sick, swallowing back the bile that’s building in his throat.
“I—Pearl.”
“Bdubs?”
“I learned my lesson, Pearl. I learned—don’t put all your eggs in one basket! Because—because either they die, and then you get left alone, or—or it gets you killed, and you die. You gotta—I have two hands. I can be loyal to multiple people. But then I learned—when you do that? People aren’t loyal back. They don’t trust you anymore. Nobody else…” He laughs. “I feel like I’m the only one who can trust people like that anymore!”
“So…” She frowns. “So you’re making friends with everyone so you don’t get betrayed or left alone?”
“Exactly.”
“And you know none of us are gonna trust you for doing that.”
He swallows again. “Yeah, I know.”
“And you’re doing it anyway?”
“Well, what else—what else am I supposed to do? I can’t… I can’t go back, Pearl. That’s… I can’t go back. You know how it is.”
“…Yeah,” she says quietly. “I’m—I want you to win, Bdubs,” she says. “Out of everyone—I want it to be you.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. So… You better not make me regret this.”
He blinks at her. “Regret what?”
She bows her head to him. “I’m your weapon,” she says, an echo of his earlier words. “And a bit more of a dangerous one at that.” Her smirk leaks back into her words as she glances up and winks at him. “So use me well, alright, Bdubs? I want you to win this.”
Bdubs’ heart is in his throat. He swallows it back down. It burns.
“I’ll do my best,” he promises.
The door slams open, startling them both out of their skin.
“Hey guys—uh. What are you doing?”
“Oh, for—Judas Priest, Joel, learn to knock!”
“You invited me over! Or, Pearl did—hey Pearl.”
“Hey,” Pearl says. “Come on in! Sleepover at Bdubs’ time.”
“I can’t believe this is the last of our bases left standing. It’s, like, the worst one.”
“Hey!”
“There’s no space in here!” To punctuate his statement, Joel slumps down against one wall, kicking Bdubs in the ribs as he does so. Bdubs grunts. “See?”
“It’s definitely not the most spacious…” Pearl acquiesces.
“Anyway. What were you guys doing before I came in?”
“Swearing loyalty,” Bdubs says.
“Oh.” Joel blinks. “Do you need me to do that? Because I’m a Mounder for life. Loyal to the end.”
Bdubs and Pearl glance at each other.
“Somehow I actually believe him,” Bdubs stage-whispers, and Joel squawks in offence as Pearl barks out a laugh.
“No, I think you’re good,” she says. Leaning her head back against the wall, she says, “This is probably our final night.”
The three of them are quiet for a moment.
“Well,” says Joel. “We gotta make it to the end then, don’t we?”
He’s looking at Bdubs. They’re both looking at Bdubs.
Bdubs nods.
“May the best Mounder win,” he says solemnly.
Joel grins.
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Seeing as the Gerudo turned on Ganon, he might not have been that much better of a ruler.
First of all, we literally have no idea, because the only ancient Gerudo that we actually get to interact with is Ganondorf himself, and he has nothing to say about his own people. The ancient Gerudo sage doesn't count btw, she doesn't have a name, we never even see her face, and she has literally nothing to say except repeating the exact same dialogue as the sages for the other races. The narrative does not treat the ancient sages as people; they are four completely interchangable weapons that are owned by the royal family.
And secondly, I don't care how Ganon ruled them; the Gerudo only get one man every century, if their king sucks, they've obviously got their own system of government to fall back on. I have no idea what kind of authority the sages had among their own people, but honestly I'd say if the four of them were in charge of their respective people, then they were just puppet rulers appointed by Rauru, given that all four of them happily agreed that to sell their entire race into servitude the second Zelda asked them. Say what you will about Ganondorf, but I fucking know that if he was told the Gerudo people existed for the sole purpose of serving the glory of Hyrule, he'd drop kick Zelda into the fucking sun.
And don't get me started on the implications of the cultural differences we see between the independent Gerudo and the annexed Gerudo. The background Gerudo characters all have their own models, and we can clearly see that the ones siding with Ganon have their own unique looks - for example, the amazing lady with the mohawk that summons the molduga swarm in that one flashback. And men are never mentioned in these flashbacks at all, which implies that the Gerudo genuinely didn't care about settling down. Ganon even speaks derisively about marriage, implying that it's very rare for Gerudo women to make serious romantic commitments with men. It implies that their culture is more along the same line as their portrayal in OOT - they are a closed culture. Men trying to force their way into their areas are arrested, and mocked for being entitled dumbasses. Outsiders are only welcome if they can prove that they respect the Gerudo as people, and aren't just there to try and pick up chicks. It's never outright said, but OOT also makes it pretty clear that the Gerudo women just aren't interested in marrying outsiders - close relationships occur with other Gerudo, Hylian men are only considered useful for making babies.
Meanwhile the Gerudo we see serving Hyrule are all trying to measure up to Hylian beauty standards, and appeal to their men. Their one goal in life is to meet a man and get married. Men are welcome in their lands, and only kept out of the town itself... and even then, there's a small army of guys trying to force their way into the town anyways, which is brushed off as just haha, boys will be boys. No men allowed isn't even about independence, it's just a silly romantic tradition.
Of course this is just a fictional culture in a game world, but it's still really fucking uncomfortable that the 'evil' Gerudo are the ones that have independence, both politically and socially, and display a unique culture that refuses to tolerate disrespect from outsiders. Meanwhile the 'good' Gerudo are the ones that canonically exist to serve a kingdom where 95% of the population is light skinned (even setting aside the unfortunate implications, just saying one race exists to serve a different one is super fucked up), they have classes on how to be more appealing to Hylian's, and their entire social structure is built around finding a Hylian man to marry, making them all inherently dependent on the goodwill of outsiders. Even their biggest value of 'women only' is treated as a joke; men trying to trespass in BOTW are just shoved back out the door, letting them keep trying all day if they want. The crowds of men plotting to force their way in are laughed off as a joke. Nobody cares that there's a guy running laps around their city walls and trying to trick women into being alone with him. I mean for fucks sake, in TOTK we find that the creepy guy trying to lure women away has taken advantage of a massive disaster to get into the town, and he's still there once things return to normal. You can't kick him out, or alert anyone to his presence. And the Gerudo just tolerate Hylians blatantly ignoring their boundaries. For fucks sake, TOTK even reveals that the seven legendary heroines they've been revering the whole time were actually completely useless and unable to achieve anything... because they needed the eighth hero, a Hylian man to teach them basic tactics and do all the heavy lifting.
TOTK does not respect the Gerudo people in the slightest. It doesn't respect anyone who isn't Hylian or Zonai.
...This got a little off track, but the point I'm trying to make is, no, I don't consider the Gerudo turning on Ganon to mean anything. The entire game does not feel like the real story of what happened, it feels like the propaganda version of history meant to make Hyrule look as good as possible. I genuinely cannot believe that we're being told the real story about the Imprisoning War, because none of it feels real, and we don't get to know any details that might have made Hyrule look even slightly imperfect. We're told that Ganondorf is evil because he hates Hyrule, and he hates Hyrule because he's evil. The Gerudo people followed Ganondorf and saw him as a hero of their people, then suddenly he was their worst enemy. Hyrule is a perfect kingdom that has strong, equal alliances with the other races, but also all of the non-Hylian races exist for the sole purpose of serving Hyrule, and their leaders are expected to swear eternal loyalty and submission to the Hylian royal family. King Rauru and Queen Sonia united all of the races in peace and equality, which is why they're sitting on the world's supply of magical nuclear missiles, and every member of the Hylian royal family is allowed to walk around wearing them as cute accessories, but everyone else only gets them at the last second, and they all need to outright swear to only use that power to benefit Rauru and his descendants.
There's just so many fucked up contradictions, and so many hints of something more nuanced going on... but the story refuses to acknowledge any of it, and just keeps aggressively pushing the narrative that Hyrule is the ultimate good and couldn't possibly do anything wrong. I don't even believe that Ganon was a bad king honestly; we never hear why his people stopped following him. We also never even see if the Gerudo people turned on him at all; all we know is the ancient Gerudo sage wanted him dead, and given that she also happily sold her people into slavery, she's not exactly the most trustworthy source of information. All we know is that Ganondorf was a hero to his people, only one of his citizens is ever shown having an issue with him (and her motives are never explained), and then he lost the war and was sealed away, leaving his people open to be conquered by Zelda and annexed into Hyrule. By the time we see any Gerudo actually opposing Ganon (apart from the ancient sage), it's been ten thousand years since the war, and all anyone knows is the Hylian version of the story.
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