#it's probably wolfwood that has to look for someone else and take them out. i feel like it happens ever so occasionally.

[ruporas]

can’t talk about it

[ID: Black and white comic of Vash and Wolfwood from Trigun Maximum. The comic starts with the sounds "thud, thud, click". Vash, mid-action of peeling an apple, turns to the sound, noticing who it was that entered, and says, "Oh, Wolfwood, you're back." He resumes back to his apple in the next panel as he speaks, "Where'd you go? You snuck out of bed quickly this morning..." Wolfwood's hand then enters the panel, hovering over Vash's cheek and Vash looks up as Wolfwood asks, "Can I?" Vash responds, "Not going to talk about it?" while using a hand to gently hold Wolfwood's hovering hand and presses a kiss to his inner palm.

Vash then gets up fully, setting down the knife down on the table and the apple onto a plate, He leans into Wolfwood as Wolfwood explains, "Had to meet someone. Nothing interesting to talk about." Vash kisses Wolfwood's left cheek and a hand moves to cup his other cheek while muttering, "You're being vague." Wolfwood says neutrally, "If yer really that curious, keep askin'. We  can talk about that instead of doing this." Vash leans back and responds, "Let's talk after, since... You look so tired."

The panel pans to a close up of Wolfwood's downcast eyes, bags heavy underneath his eyes. He doesn't allow Vash to sit in that moment for long though, then saying, "Yer not helping, Spikey. Being all slow with it... I could fall asleep right now." He moves his hand to start unclasping Vash's coat, starting from his collar. Vash with red cheeks, responds briskly, "Oh, shut up. I'm worried about you. I can't be worried?"

The final shot shows Wolfwood's back to the viewer while Vash's softened expression can be seen as he holds gently onto the side of Wolfwood's face and a hand firm on his waist. Wolfwood responds, "I'm fine, seriously," pausing for a moment before continuing, "Is it okay to still..?" Vash responds, "Yeah, it's okay."

The next image is a shot from later that night after the previous comic. Vash and Wolfwood are now in bed, half naked. Wolfwood's buries his face into Vash's chest, his arms wrapped around him, while Vash is petting at his hair. Vash reminds him, "Hey. You said we'd talk about it." Wolfwood pauses for a moment before piping up, "In the morning? I'm sleepy." Vash says, "Okay..."

The next two pages start from the morning after. Wolfwood is already fully awake, pulling on his outer jacket as he says to Vash, whos' still bundled in his blankets, "Breakfast is on the table. Make sure to eat it. I'm going to grab some things in town and then we're leavin'. Got it?" Vash says, "Mh." Wolfwood responds, "Good. See ya in a bit." The dialogue starts to shift into Vash's inner thoughts now, as he gets up and eats toast, thinking, "Wait. Weren't we supposed to... talk about it?" The next shot then shows him fully up, meeting Wolfwood in town. He carries a half worried expression with him while Wolfwood slides on his glasses for him. A quick panel shows Wolfwood's tired expression from the night before and quickly juxtaposes with Wolfwood in front of him who's smiling gently, the shades covering his eye bags. Wolfwood asks him, "Still not awake yet?" Vash pauses, his thoughts stirring, thinking, "Oh. I guess I was getting ahead of myself... thinking you owe me that kind of honesty." He smiles at Wolfwood and responds, "I'm awake!" His thoughts continue, "Maybe one day, you'd trust me enough to share your burdens."

The final image shows Wolfwood pulling at Vash's cheek and Vash complains, "Owwwww why..." Wolfwood quickly says, "You were thinking something stupid, right? It's all over yer face." Vash mutters, "Nooo, I wasn't..." END ID]

#vashwood #trigun #trigun maximum #vash the stampede #nicholas d wolfwood #Theyre both thoroughly exhausted tired individuals -- vash having to fight this lonely battle for over a hundred years and getting dragged #back into inevitable situation with knives after a 2 years hiatus of being a gunslinger. they both need so much Rest and comfort in this #department... .SIGHS. BUT I JUST THINK ABOUT WOLFWOOD . AND HOW... LITTLE He has existed on no man's land. how majority of his years being #alive is being used as a weapon and to kill when him at his very core is the most giving and selfless individual ever #badlands rumble inspired me a bit but i do think wolfwood gets dragged into occasional tasks from the eye of michael while on his duty of #guiding vash -- or i think that one chapter where we got to see other members of eom -- there's like a clear division within the eom too #i think.... so i figured similarly to vash but not to the same amount -- there are people that look for wolfwood too. but most of the time #it's probably wolfwood that has to look for someone else and take them out. i feel like it happens ever so occasionally. #evidentially these two don't talk enough canonically but they always know how to express things properly to affirm that they're okay #they have the worst time ever sharing burdens - can't willingly burden the other and has neeever asked for help or reprieve in their #desperate situations... vw is a huge case of right person wrong time syndrome so they just. in the time they get to spend together -- even #if romantically - they don't have enough time to heal to get over that kind of hurdle. They've just never asked for help in all the years #they've been alive -- they don't even know how to and its just aughhhsgskg #and well! they don't even need to ask! because they'll be there for each other anyway at the end of the day -- company and presence alone. #ruporas art

[thebellearchives]

𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐁𝐎𝐃𝐘 𝐄𝐋𝐒𝐄

~ Nicholas D. Wolfwood ; Trigun Stampede

✧˚ · . S Y N O P S I S : late night in a bar, Wolfwood watches you as you seem to have found love with somebody else

‧₊˚ c o n t e n t s : gn!reader, angst, consumption of alcohol, unrequited love

‧₊˚ a / n : i feel like this scenario has been written quite a lot of times, but has it been written with Somebody Else by The 1975 on repeat?! i don’t think so!

Jealousy tinged eyes watched you closely. Unaware of the gaze that would follow you everywhere since you found this group, you continued to get lost in your blond companion’s smile. Wolfwood drank from his whiskey once more, trying his best not to call for your name and pull you away from Vash. Cold liquor tingled his lips, burning in his throat and chest just like envy did. He was aware that no matter where he tried to take your body your mind would not leave the humanoid typhoon behind.

Vash turned to you, whatever he said was lost in between the laughs and the music that filled the bar, so it never really reached Wolfwood’s ears, but your eyes lit up. Your smile widened, pure adoration glinted in your face. He tried to tear his gaze away, but there was a part of his mind that forced him to watch. Maybe it was masochistic, but it was the only way he’d get it through his head: you were no longer his.

And you probably never were, it had all been in his head. He’d tease you and you’d laugh it off, a sweet and shy blush sitting on top of your cheeks, but maybe it hadn’t been because of him, maybe it had been the heat of the desert. Whenever he caught your eyes wandering towards him, those heart stopping smiles you’d give him, and now you were giving them to someone else. Your melodic laugh tied a knot in his throat, Vash laughed with you and with a clink of your drinks both of you leaned closer to one another as naturally as if it was by gravity.

It was happening right in front of Wolfwood’s eyes, and yet he couldn’t shake the thought that nagged at the back of his head. He was so sure that he could’ve had something with you, maybe if he had been less playful and more direct, maybe if he had kissed you that night behind the car, if he had brushed those unruly hair strands off your face tenderly, if he had made sure to glance towards your lips at the right time…

Your fingers fixed Vash’s orange glasses, sliding them back to the bridge of his nose where they should’ve stayed since the very beginning. The gunslinger widened his eyes in innocent surprise and a soft cherry pink colour covered his face. Some words stuttered their way out of his mouth, you giggled.

“You’re so cute” Wolfwood read your lips and immediately regretted it, finally running out of strength to maintain his eyes on you and looking away, down towards his almost empty glass.

So he drank the remaining liquid, putting it back into the wooden counter a little bit harder than he intended to. Vash was his friend. He was kind an caring, he was genuinely a good guy, and if you were to end up with someone Wolfwood was sure you wouldn’t find another guy who’d treat you better. And you deserved that, someone to love you back. He couldn’t love back someone who didn’t love him in the first place.

The undertaker squinted, noticing the edges of this glass becoming blurry. He felt pathetic, wailing over something so stupid as a broken heart. He thought drowning his feelings in alcohol until he stopped feeling was a good idea, so he ordered more from the busy bartender.

“Another whiskey”

“Two, actually” Meryl suddenly appeared next to him “thanks!”

“Since when do you drink whiskey?” he raised an eyebrow.

“Since today” she smirked “I want to offer some company to a friend. Just between you and I, he genuinely looks like shit right now”

Wolfwood snorted.

“Then he must want to be alone”

“Come on!” the blissful chirp of your voice called for his attention.

You grabbed Vash by his hands and guided him towards the dance floor, his bewitched blue eyes following you in amusement. Yes, Vash was the perfect guy for you, and still Wolfwood’s heart ached watching you leave with somebody else.

#; belles angst #trigun stampede #trigun #nicholas d wolfwood #nicholas the punisher #wolfwood x reader #wolfwood x you #nicholas wolfwood x reader #nicholas d wolfwood x reader #nicholas wolfwood #wolfwood imagine #trigun wolfwood #vash the stampede x reader #vash the stampede x you #tristamp #gn!reader

[waterfallofspace]

9, 42, and 45 for a sick, sneezy vash please, if that’s okay? 😄

Thank you for the ask, of course that's okay!! (it does feature a hint of W/olfwood action too, just a smiiidge, hope that's alright hehe~ It's also a V/ashwood story since, well, I figured that would be alright~!) 1.9k words, prompts 9, 42, and 45, story under cut! 9. “You’re trembling.”  42. “Baby, you’re all sniffly.”  45. “Your nose is literally twitching.” (Brief mentions of anxiety just incase anyone doesn't like that!)

~~~~~~~

“hn’chh-! hh’keshh-! ‘Scuse me, sorry.”

“I told ya, no need for the ‘pologies.” 

“Y- you did but it’s a hahh... habit. hek’ishh-! Sor-”

A dark look from Wolfwood cuts off the apology, Vash being reduced to stuttering out some nonsensical syllables in his effort to recover. His leg is still, but there’s constant movement in his hands as they attempt to find something to grab onto. Anxiety was never a stranger to the man, despite apparent lack of concern for his own safety most of the time.  

The town they find themselves in doesn’t have a motel, which isn’t that unique in these parts. They’ve grown quite used to sharing a room, or even just a bed, wherever they could find one. For instance, they’re currently sharing a guest room above the town bar. Not an awful crashpad, a couch, nice radio, their own bathroom. 

It’s secluded from the rest of the bar too, giving them a bit of privacy. Sliding onto the bed, Wolfwood motions for Vash to join him. Surprise crosses his sharp features as the request is denied. Instead, Vash points himself towards the couch, offering a wave over his shoulder as he spins away. ‘Well that’s new…’ 

“What, suddenly too good to share a bed with me, Blondie?”

“Wh- what? No, not at all! I just… I figured you’d- en’chh-! ih’tshhie-! Excuse me, sorry. Where was I..? Oh right, m- maybe you’d want it to yourself this time and I don’t mind t- taking the couch.”

“‘Cause of your cold? I don’t care, now get over here.”

“Because of my- what? I’m… I’m not sick?” 

Wolfwood doesn’t reply, instead he lets the uncomfortable silence settle over the room as he watches Vash. ‘Either he’s playing dumb, and doesn’t want to admit it, or the needle noggin really didn’t notice. Gotta know which before I make my move.’ Under the weight of tension starting to spread through the air, Vash gives a heavy sigh. The breath comes out shaky as his body vibrates, hands starting to rub his arms.

“You’re literally trembling. You tryna tell me that ain’t shivers?”

“It’s not! Well okay… I mean it is shivering, but not from sickness, it’s just cold in here, that’s all! ennchh-! Sorry, excuse me.”

The sneeze brings a fresh round of shudders as Wolfwood raises a brow at the display. ‘So denial it is then. If it was cold in ‘ere I’d’ve noticed long before him.’ A blessing almost slips out, but that’ll just lead to a new round of apologies. Right now it’s more important to get an admittance and go from there.

“Blondie, we’re in a fuckin’ desert. It’s not cold anywhere.” 

“W- well they must have the air on! Or… or something… probably the air, b- because it’s so hot out, so they uh… they want it to be cool indoors.”

“Guess I should go ask ‘em to turn it off-”

“Hey- wait no, uh… it’s- it’s actually starting to uh… warm up..? D- don’t bother them. hk’ishiee-! Sorry. They let us stay here, I don’t- I mean we don’t want to be a burden on them-”

A hint of pride starts to break through Wolfwood’s mind as he grins. ‘And there it is. Gotcha.’ Vash has always been hesitant to be a burden. Not a horrible mindset to have for most people, ‘Hell, a few could use more of it’. The problem is that his definition of ‘burden’ includes things such as eating, sleeping, breathing, or simply existing when he’s not actively helping in some way. 

Sickness was high on his list of ‘things that make me a burden on everyone I come in contact with’, despite Wolfwood’s constant reminders that he doesn’t mind. However, there is something above it, and that’s ‘bothering someone else’, especially when it’s for a made up reason. Given the choice between admitting sickness or waking the bartender to ask them to turn off the ‘air’ that doesn’t exist, well…

“-Okay fine. I might be… a little bit sick… but- hh’ishh’iee-! hehh- en’chhh-! heh’kshh’iew-!” 

“Blessin’”

“Thank you, sorry, it’s really not that bad!”

“Then get in bed ‘fore it gets worse.” 

“I uh… I really don’t think that’s-”

“I’ll even read from the book I’ve been finishin’. But that's a limited time offer, Blondie. Goin’ once, goin’ twice-” 

Before he can start the next word, Vash hurls himself towards the bed, an excited set of vibrations starting to replace the shivers. Wolfwood chuckles, lifting the blanket from his legs to wrap it around Vash, giving his shoulders a light squeeze. In response the huddled form leans into his lap, head resting against his chest. 

“Ready?”

“Yehh… yep!” 

“Alright. The second reason he realized she was gone was from the smell. The air had lost a sweetness. One he’d grown so used to he hardly recognized it anymore. That is, until it was gone. -----” 

Wolfwood continues reading, his focus being drawn away from the world once more. ‘Would’ve thought romance books were more Blondie’s thing, but… well… after he gave me that one about the garden love story… I guess I could understand the appeal… But only because Vash likes it when I read them. That’s all.’ No one else can hear him, but Wolfwood still feels the need to justify the surge of emotion starting to creep through his heart. 

Maybe it was the fact Vash had given him them. Maybe it was the fact that blondie was gazing up with a hazy adoration as each word leaves his throat. Doesn’t really matter why. All that matters is how the words seem to glide off the page, through his deep voice to dance around their heads, playing out each scene as he reads them. This sensation is short lived though, as soon he feels himself snapping back to the bedroom where a soft sound has begun.

“hkk-! guhh…” 

“Brushing the branches from his uh… from his face, he starts to cut through the dense forest.”

“heHh-! hhh… Snnff-”

“T- the branches, oh wait read that already, ah here we go. The dense forest. Eyes seem to be peering at him through the-”

“hahHhh- snff- hkIH-! hehh…”

“Through the, uh, the-”

“hhih-!”

“Christ, Blondie. Just sneeze already.” 

Vash’s head pops out from its blanket cocoon against Wolfwood’s chest, a pink tint spread across his cheeks that has nothing to do with his cold. Bringing up a single finger to lightly rub his nose, Vash tries to offer a sincere smile. What instead crosses his face is a look that just screams itchy. Wolfwood feels a sympathy tickle through his own nose. 

“Wh- what?”

“Your nose is literally twitching. You’re makin’ me itchy from the look of it. Jus’ sneeze, it’s okay. I’ll even pause my readin’.” 

“I- I don’t… okay yehh… yes I do- I’m so sorry ehH-!”

“Don’t ‘pologize. Nothin’ to be ‘shamed of.”

“eH’tmmfshh-! hh’mmshhii-! hk’ishh’ieee-!” 

He attempts to muffle the first two into his hand, the third escaping with a pitch that sounds incredibly unsatisfying. ‘No wonder he always has these long drawn out fits. Those sound like they do nothin’ to relieve the itch.’ Pausing his analysis, Wolfwood leans towards the nightstand, grabbing a handful of tissues and pressing them into Vash’s unused hand. 

A timid smile meets the gesture as Vash brings them to his nose, humming a sigh. The action seems to bring a new level of irritation, his breath snaring as the tissues are gripped tighter. It teases him for a minute, Wolfwood choking back a laugh at the whimper the tissues barely muffle. Finally, after what seems like a lifetime, a desperate “hnnchh-! ih’tishiee-! keshh’ii-!” break through. Wolfwood lets a knuckle crush his own nose, sympathy waves running through it again.

“Blessin’.” 

“Thanks. Sor-”

“You’re only welcome if you don’t finish that apology.” 

“-So are you gonna keep reading..? hih’ishhiee-! hk’ieshh-! Excuse me.”

“Blessin’s. Good save, Blondie. Remind me where we were?”

“Eyes in the- eh’kshhiee-! forest.”

“Blessin’, alright. So- wait… hold on a sec.”

Wolfwood lets the book rest on his knees, staring up through his sunglasses at the ceiling. Vash attempts to follow his gaze, but can’t notice anything worth staring at. Deciding to ask, Vash leans up to meet his eyes. Hardly a noise escapes before Wolfwood holds up a finger to silence him, tilting his sunglasses down and blinking through the brightness. 

“huh’yIEZzshh’oo-! ai’GNZSHhh’oo-! Whew, that’s better.” 

“Oh- bless you! Did- did I get-”

“No you didn' get me sick. My immune system ain’t nearly as fragile as yours.”

“Hey! Well then, is- hh’tieshh’ii-! Excuse me. Is something bothering you?”

“Nah, jus’ a tickle. Think it was ‘cause of the itchy look you were wearin’.”

“Oh, okay! S- sorry…”

“Nothin’ to be sorry for, Blondie. Now, back to the book?"

"Yes!"

"Eyes seem to be peering at him through the darkness. Watching his every step, daring him to come closer. Daring him to betray his heart alongside his kingdom. What did they know? Surely not his heart. That was something that couldn’t be known by anyone, not after her. ------.” 

Wolfwood feels the words flow from him once more, almost before his eyes can trace their forms on the page. Figures begin their dance, chasing each other in beautiful patterns through the humid air. The only thing pulling him from the daydream that he finds himself in far too often with Vash is the sound of constant sniffles. 

There is an outright refusal to address the noises, so instead Wolfwood continues reading, making it through another two chapters before giving in and setting the book back down. Vash looks up with an innocent gaze, absentmindedly rubbing his palm against his nose as another sniff breaks free.

“Baby, you’re all sniffly. You can blow your nose.”

The pet name gets the reaction it was meant to, Vash suddenly laser focused on Wolfwood’s every word. ‘Alright, easy now with this next part. He’s jus’ about there, gotta be delicate. Which… has never really been my strong suit.’ There’s a hint of unease beneath Vash’s smile, palm crushing against his face again. 

“I know you’re sick, Vash. You told me that earlier. So you can drop the ruse.” 

“We- well…”

“It’s just us.” 

Vash flushes as Wolfwood passes him another handful of tissues, but brings them to his nose anyways. He turns away, ever mindful of others, and blows a couple times. The first seems unsuccessful, but by the third he manages to get a semblance of airflow through his sinuses. 

Giving a heady sigh of relief, Vash turns back to Wolfwood, mouth open as if to form words. He never gets the chance, the next breath through his sensitive nasal passages bringing his hands up to his face by instinct. Wolfwood chuckles, letting a hand drop to rub his back through the fit. 

“hH’ieshh’ie-! keshhh’iee-! hihh- tnnshhii-! Ih’tieshhiee-!”

“Blessin’s. Heh, you’re awfully adorable at times, Blondie.”

“I am no- heH’ishh-! hk’ishh-! tieshh’iee-! not!” 

Humming out another laugh, Wolfwood brushes the hair from Vash’s warm skin, planting a kiss on his forehead. Vash responds with a sigh, airy and light, before he sinks back into Wolfwood’s chest, wrapping himself deeper into the blanket. A smirk crosses Wolfwood’s face, ‘Not cute, huh?’ before he lifts the book once more.

There, in the safety of Wolfwood’s embrace, Vash finds himself drifting off to sleep, figures dancing through his mind as the deep voice fades off into a peaceful darkness.

#waterfallasks #waterfallwrites #thank you for the request!! Hopefully this is acceptable compensation for the wait~ haha #I'm over the burn out that I was feeling before so I'm hopeful I'll get quite a few done! #but i also don't wanna sink back into it- so it might be a touch slower than before~~!!! #but as always if there's something specific you wanna see #feel free to send in a request and I'll see what I can do! #long as you don't mind a bit of a wait~ I promise I love getting them!! sparks my mind hehe~ #anyways- hope anyone who reads this enjoys some v/ashwood sweetness~ #t/rigun s/tampede #v/ash #v/ashwood #w/olfwood #snz

[pancake-breakfast]

Finishing this volume up earlier than usual isn't going to lessen the pain, but it might free me up to do a few more write-ups I need to do.

Stream-of-consciousness thoughts for TriMax Vol. 10, Chapters 6-8 below.

Chapter 6: The Return

The return of what?? What is there to return??? Are they just gonna go back to the orphanage? The return of Livio?? I ask all these things like Nightow's not gonna answer that in the next however many pages.

Yeah, I imagine punches hurt a lot more when YOU DON'T HAVE ANY SKIN.

Ugh, Vash just... standing there, listening to Wolfwood beat the shit out of Razlo. I'm not sure what he's thinking or feeling, but I'm not sure I want to know.

I like Livio... but I think I'd be ok with Razlo never being whole again.

Vash.... Wolfwood, stop punching and go hug your mans or something. He's not doing so well.

Oh, Raz. Chapel wouldn't help you if he could. He never cared enough about you for that.

Dear lord, that's not a healthy thing to do, Wolfwood. I realize you don't have any control over it, but maybe it's time to just stop for a bit. (Side note: props to Nightow for not having his characters just arbitrarily coughing up blood all the time. Really increases the impact when they finally do.)

THE FUCK. DON'T DOWN THE LAST VIAL. YOU'RE JUST SPEEDING UP THE INEVITABLE.

Gods, Raz regenerates quickly.

Huh, his living minions have names, and he knows them. I wonder if the one he turned into chaff had a name.

I dunno if Vash is gonna tolerate this.

Yeah, Vash says no. Kicks for you. He'll allow Wolfwood to finish his business with Raz because he knows this is important to Wolfwood, but if he doesn't get to interfere, then neither does anyone else.

In this moment, I fully believe Vash will kill them if they don't lay off. That said, I'm not sure they're fully human and not some sort of construct.

Raz is doing a great job talking despite not having lips. *mumbles something indistinct about episode 12 of Stampede*

Huh???

LIVIO!!! My boi is here to save his big bro!

Gods, I love these panels. I love how they're set up like two different characters.

Wolfwood knows something's up.

Where the hell did the other Punisher come from? That's Chapel's Punisher. Isn't he dead??

DAMMIT, FUCK THIS GUY SO HARD WITH A *redacted* RIGHT IN THE *redacted* UNTIL HE *redacted* AND *redacted, AND THEN *redacted* HIS *redacted* WITH A *redacted* UNTIL IT LOOKS LIKE SWISS CHEESE!!! FUUUUUUUCCCCKKK!!!!

Ugh, I told you, Raz. I'm sorry, my guy. I know how much it sucks to find out someone you thought was there to take care of you and who you thought valued your life only ever saw you as a pawn toward a different end.

What's more, Raz, is I just skimmed back and what you probably thought was a half-hearted attempt by Wolfwood to smack you away from himself in fear probably just saved your life.

Finish that bastard off. Please. Make sure he doesn't get up again. Make sure he never hurts anyone else again. Finish what your brother started.

Honestly, Nightow could have put absolutely no dialogue on these panels and I'd still be able to hear Raz scream.

Nah, scale it back, Razlo. I know you don't know the meaning of the words, but to quote Stampede Wolfwood, he's not the one who hurt you.

Freaking Livio, man. (affectionate, full of admiration)

Listen to him, Raz. You exist to protect him. If he says you're done, you're done.

Yes. If it weren't for you, Livio would be dead. But the fight is over. It's time to end this, Razlo.

There's something very important about apologizing to yourself for the unhealthy and/or dangerous coping mechanisms you forced yourself to build up... and in forgiving yourself for for them, too.

Ah, the little peons have gone passive now that their master has receded.

Freaking Wolfwood took this time to find and light another of his terribly crushed cigarettes. Freaking addict.

Chapter 7: Wolfwood

No no no no. I know where this chapter goes. I'm not ready.

For the record, I'm just gonna play take a little hand by yoko kanno on repeat the whole time I read this chapter. It's literally been stuck in my head since I got hit with the volume's feels last night, so I'm gonna just ride it out.

"Sleep on a proper bed as much as you can." This is such a good wish. If one has ever been poor enough not to have a proper bed for any length of time, they get it. It's a wish for the luxury of simple comforts, like wishing for someone to have a full stomach or clean clothes.

He thought he was joining a good organization, a group that would help others. He was just a child.

TBH, he looks younger here than he looks in some of the other flashbacks. Here, he looks like he's eight, but in some of the others, he looks like he's 12-14.

We don't have time for the ark now, Brad! And by "time," I mean "emotional energy for whatever those crazies intend to do next." Make 'em go away!

Vash opens the door for the people from the orphanage to come out... but we don't see his face. That feels ominous. I wonder if he's managing one of his fake smiles at this point, or if he's not even bothering for once. (I say "for once," but it feels like his mask falls a lot more these days than it used to.)

Yyyyeah, it might have been a good idea to clean up some of the bodies first. Or let the kids out through the back or something.

*sigh* Vash just wanted to give them some time together.

Man, Livio looks wrecked. Not physically. Emotionally.

Ah, Brad dropped Vash off. That explains that. I remember the ship and I remember thinking it looked like one of Home's vessels, but I wasn't sure if Vash had driven it or what. I like to imagine Vash just jumped out of it from way too high up.

Heh. Wolfwood knows he can't fool Miss Melanie, but he's still trying to protect the kids. Or... maybe he's trying to protect himself. He doesn't want them to see him like this, to think of him like this.

Honestly, given how young some of these kids were, it's a wonder so many of them remember him.

Vash, still holding out hope that maybe, just maybe, they can save him.

Nicholas Dickolas Wolfwood! You're only giving Vash that coin and saying, "This is who I really am," and all that bullshit because you're trying to make your passing easier on Vash, to drive him away so it maybe hurts him less. But you are too late for that. Idiot. He LOVES YOU. Deeply. It doesn't matter if or even need to be romantic. HE LOVES YOU.

LOL, Livio. Bless this man. Also maybe get him a shirt.

*sigh* Klutz.

Damn Nightow for adding this comic relief here. I know it's a lie.

*more sighing* Aaaaand there's the bottle.

Freaking couch....

Gods. Remember... remember waaaaay back when they first met, and Wolfwood went out of his way to make Vash smile? He truly loves Vash's smile. But there's no way in hell Vash could give him a genuine one right now, and that's the smile Wolfwood truly loves.

Well... dammit, Wolfwood would of course be thinking of that, too. Here I thought I was being all smart about the callback, but Nightow just spelled it out for us.

Vash is about to have a full breakdown here. Usually, it's Wolfwood praying, but this time, it's Vash. He doesn't want apologies. He just... he just wants this person who means so much to him to be here. To keep being here. For as long as possible.

Them throwing ticker tape, just like when he left before. Just like you would for a celebration, like a wedding. You... you know Stampede's opening Tombi references this, too??

Heh. Six years, and they saved all this for when he came back. He was well-loved.

Brad's incensed face in the background.

Miss Melanie went against Wolfwood's request... but she's worked with kids a lot. Desperate, hurt kids. Kids who've had to grow up before their time even if they don't show it on the outside the way Wolfwood does. She knows they're smarter than most give them credit for. And she knows some part of Wolfwood's heart needs this. He needs to know that in spite of everything, he's still loved, even by them.

Wolfwood doesn't strike me as much of a crier, unlike Vash. But... hey, now's as good a time as any, huh?

The iron bell in the tower is ringing.

Yeah. Yeah, I knew this would be the next page.

Livio knows. Vash knows. Vash can't hold it in anymore.

Aaaand the ark is here. This is going to go very, very poorly for someone.

Chapter 8: Final Parting

I'd guess Livio's about to have a very different relationship with the ark than he had before.

Ah, the ark is either not as close as the final page of the last chapter made it seem, or it passed them by for now.

Vash is stress cooking.

Livio, you moron. What did you think was happening??

Side note: I like how Livio's hair has gone from, "I am dead inside and don't care about anything," to something that's almost quirky and childlike.

This is the face of someone who's checked the hell out for the foreseeable future.

TBH, it's probably a good thing Livio clarified his "why." If he hadn't, I dunno if Vash would have been able to stay calm. He's doing his best right now, even if he's checked out.

Yeah, they better animate this in Stampede. They've already set it up to hit like a runaway train.

Gods, I wish it wasn't a billion degrees. I could really go for some tea right now. Hot tea. Coping tea.

Uhh, what happened to Vash's hair?? "But when" is right!

Ah, he took out his grief on the ark. Well, that explains why that big-ass ship is somehow missing.

WTH is so fucking funny, Knives?? Your brother is dying.

Ah, brief return of I-Hate-My-Life Livio hair. Man, this guy talks with his hair. I love it. He really does feel bad about all this now. This isn't what he wanted. Like Wolfwood at the beginning of the story, he just didn't know he could have it any other way.

Vash is right. Eat.

Heh. Vash's little smile as Livio starts eating. Livio's not Wolfwood, but he's someone Wolfwood cared deeply about, and it seems like some part of Vash is willing to accept that, despite everything, a friend of Wolfwood's is a friend of his, especially when said friend is so eager to take up Wolfwood's mantle.

Side note: it amuses me that Livio's left his shredded sleeves on. Like, my boi, your whole shirt is missing. You can probably take those off, too.

This panel. It feels like it snuck in from a completely different manga.

Heh. Vash remembering eating with Wolfwood like this.

Oh, my boi Livio. Sobbing through his food. I imagine Vash is already all cried out for now.

They're just gonna eat their sorrows away. Silverware optional. This is a hand salad now.

LOL, yeah... I had a feeling they were gonna overeat.

Hells, I don't think Livio could forget Wolfwood if he wanted to. But I get the gesture. Vash is reminding Livio that Wolfwood died to save him. And Livio's picking up what he's putting down.

Mm, Razlo is the one used to carrying Punishers, and even he didn't cart around his own. BTW, what happened to those guys?

It's definitely a fitting tombstone.

Props to all y'all who read this the first time in book form and had to turn that last page to see a full frontal of Wolfwood's blow-up doll on the couch at the end. I'm sure that's what y'all wanted to see when you were still up to your eyes in The Feels.

Archive

Trigun Vol. 1: Covers + 1-3, 4, 5-6, 7-8, 9-10 || Vol. 2: Covers + Extras, 1, 2-4, 5-6, 7-8

TriMax Vol. 1: Covers + 1-2, 3-4, 5-6 || Vol. 2: Covers + 1, 2-4, 5, 6-7 || Vol. 3: Covers + 1-3, 4-5, 6-7 || Vol. 4: Covers + 1-2, 3-5, 6-7 || Vol. 5: Covers + 1-2, 3-4, 5-6 || Vol. 6: Covers + 1-2, 3-4, 5-6 || Vol. 7: Covers + 1-2, 3-4, 5-6 || Vol. 8: Covers + 1-2, 3-4, 5 + Bonus || Vol. 9: Covers + 1-2, 3-4, 5-6 || Vol. 10: Covers + 1-3, 4-5

Extra Credit: Trigun Vol. 1: Nebraska vs. Vash's Motivations, Vash's Loneliness, Vash's Depression (pt 2 of post), Soupy Brains || Vol. 2: Coin Factoids || TriMax Vol. 1: Lina, Vash, and a Haircut || Meryl, Vash, and the Pursuit of Happiness || Vol. 5: Knives, Vash, and Hatred for Humanity || Vol. 6: Coping Series: Wolfwood, Meryl, Vash || Vol. 8: The Uncoordinated Counterattack || Vol. 9: Justice, Punishment, and Mercy, The Tolling of an Iron Bell

#now if you'll excuse me #i'm gonna go have a therapy session with my cat #she says i need to give her lots of pets to cure what ails me #and maybe play with her a bit too #trigunbookclub #trigun maximum #volume 10 #pancake thoughts

[chris-continues]

Carnival?

College AU Trigun- Carnival HC’S!

In which you and the gang go to a carnival :)

Vash/reader elements <3

TAGS: @h4venpha @lune010 @vashfantasy @macncherries

And thank you @cowboylivio for the help on this one!

This isn’t in school or anything but I figured because it’s modern au and they’re college student age and probably going to college it fit lol

-Vash loves funnel cakes. Probably prefers the OG plain powdered sugar

-Wolfwood likes chocolate syrup and powdered sugar

-Milly swears by the overly sugary strawberry jam and whipped cream

-in a rare moment of agreement, Meryl and Knives agree that they are way too sugary but Vash will insist they have a bite (they cave) (it’s still too sugary)

-Vash will do ridiculous poses on the merry go round/carousel and would love it if anyone posed with him. What do you mean there’s only one person per horse? :( it makes for a bunch of cute photos tho!!

-Vash gets a large frozen iced lemonade and Wolfwood and Nai separately warn him to not chug it all just because it’s hot out because he will get a brain freeze (guess who got a brain freeze) (him.)

-Nai kinda lags behind everyone else. He was dragged along by Vash in hopes for him to have fun, but this truly isn’t his scene.

-For the carnival games, Vash is good at the shooting but with his luck he ends up with a faulty gun. Nai bargains with the vendor to give Vash his prize

-Wolfwood and Vash have a bit of a friendly competition on who can win the most

-Milly gets lost and they find her in the livestock barns somehow inside the goat pens because she made a new friend

-Meryl berated her immediately- she was so worried! Ugh! >:( (she’s worried for her girlfriend- I mean roommate)

-Knives is the only one who can tear them away from the animal barns and it takes so so long

-Meryl has a messenger bag and she’s kinda sorta prepared? To be fair, nobody got much beforehand notice before they were just on the road and at the carnival itself lol. She has sunscreen that has to be repeatedly borrowed

-Oo also firm believer that whenever someone wants to break a 20 or smth she’s the person they go to

-you know that one carnival ride? Where you’re locked in a cage whatever and get tossed around for a good minute? Yeah Wolfwood and Vash in one of those. It’s the funniest shit ever

-Vash gets super dizzy LMAO

-he almost vomits up all the sugary shit he’s eaten 😭

-pat his back and ask him if he’s ok pls

-he’ll look up at you with weary eyes and give a thumbs up, “yeah! Fine..” (and then proceed to almost bump into Wolfwood while walking LMAO)

-Milly insists on trying a bunch of carnival food, some of her taste is really questionable (who wants deep fried lard??) but she’s just curious and if you indulge her in trying some of the greasiest oiliest food you’ve ever seen she’ll be very happy

-Nah but fr if Milly ran a food acc/food vlog she’d get so much hype bro <33

-Imagine going on the carousel with Vash OMG

-mutual pining goes crazy here like you’re laughing and taking photos (like earlier)

-Milly, Meryl and Wolfwood went to go try more food and Knives excused himself for some fresh air away from the noise and lights (it was getting overwhelming for him)

-he helps you onto the pony, hand brushing yours as you both grab onto the pole and chuckle. The music starts to play, harmonious and oddly nostalgic, lights beautiful amidst the darkening sky

-you peek at him, his orange lenses oddly fitting into the bright lights around you both. He’s got this small smile that blooms into a gushy, dorky grin that makes you almost freeze- his sandy blonde hair sways with the movement of the pony as he chuckles, almost falling off as he’s caught staring at you too

-but of course the ride ends, and your good friend Vash + yourself make it back to the rest of the gang and eventually go home

-You both think about that moment more than you’d like to admit.

#chris writes #trigun #trigun stampede #millions knives #knives millions #trigun stampede headcanons #vash the stampede #vash Trigun #Trigun vash #college au vash #college au knives #college au wolfwood #college au #college au milly #college au meryl #meryl stryfe #milly thompson #nicholas d wolfwood #nicholas d. wolfwood #vash saverem #Nai saverem #vash x you #vash x reader #millions knives x you #millions knives x reader #hesdcanons #trigun headcanons

[greywolfheirs]

NaNo procrastination continues: Vashwood edition

I randomly got inspired to write this little drabble. Something about it feels incomplete to me but I can't figure it out so here you go. At least this time it isn't Lokius?

----------

Vash’s plant biology must have done its magic replenishing his blood supply, because the pulsing blue lines began to fade just as Wolfwood finished the last stitch. As he was tying it off complete, Vash's eyes opened–hazy but his usual, non-glowing blue. They registered Wolfwood, then further down, to where he was packing away the supplies, gathering bloodied material to throw away or clean up.

“Are you ok?” were the first words out of his mouth. It made Wolfwood want to explode.

“Am I ok?’ he growled instead. “Blondie, it’s your blood. I wasn’t the jackass picking a fight for no fucking reason.”

Realization dawned on Vash as the memory returned and he looked down at the stitches in his abdomen. “You stitched me up?”

Wolfwood rolled his eyes and stood to wash everything up instead of answering.

“What happened to those guys?” Vash continued. “And the bar? Is everything–”

“Cool it, Tongari,” Wolfwood grunted from the bathroom, throwing the tools in the sink and electing to soak them rather than scrub them one by one. He did begin to scrub his hands though. “I waved the Punisher around and they scattered. It’s handled.”

“They might come back later,” Vash mused. “We should check to–”

“We are staying put, and continuing our original plan,” Wolfwood cut in harshly.

“But you didn’t hear…” Wolfwood turned to glare at Vash’s continued argument, and stopped listening when he saw the man try to pull himself up on his elbows. Shaking off his hands in the sink, Wolfwood marched over to the idiot and shoved his chest harshly with a wet hand, taking a twisted satisfaction at the wince it caused. Shows him.

“Listen to me, blondie, and listen real close,” Wolfwood hissed, face inches from Vash. “I don’t give a shit what those knuckleheads were up to, and I’m going to forget about their existence by tomorrow. If I hadn’t shown up when I did, you’d still be bleeding in the street, or worse. Now, I did the kindness of making this scar a whole lot smaller than the others you’ve collected, but so help me, if you mention going back to that place one more goddamn time, I'll tear a new hole into you, got it?”

Vash huffed in frustration, but his voice was soft when he said, “You’re right, Wolfwood. I shouldn’t let your work go to waste.”

Wolfwood growled at that supremely unsatisfactory response, but it did imply that Vash wouldn’t be attempting to move again soon. So he shoved the moron one more time and went back to the task of cleaning up. 

Vash didn’t speak again until everything was dry and put away. Wolfwood was debating the risk of going out for a smoke when Vash would probably get up as soon as he wasn’t under watchful eyes.

“I’ve upset you,” Vash said finally. 

Wolfwood’s shoulders sagged and he moved to the window. Fuck a no-smoking policy, he wasn’t leaving this room. “You always upset me.”

“I’m sorry,” Vash sighed. “I don’t mean to.”

Wolfwood’s fingers trembled as he lit the cigarette. He was going to blame it on the long night. “I know. All you ever do is try to make everyone happy. Has that ever worked out for you? Even once?”

Vash’s face pinched and he looked away. It hit a nerve and Wolfwood was having a hard time not taking the words back immediately. To the ceiling, Vash answered, “Temporarily, yes. But that’s more than anyone on this planet is used to.”

“So you’d rather kill yourself than let someone continue to be miserable?” Wolfwood scoffed. He gestured to the scars all over Vash’s torso. “What does that make you? Definitely not happy.”

Vash looked towards him again. “Happier than some. No one else on this planet could lived through the things these scars have caused. I’ll take it if it means someone else gets to see another day.”

“If I hadn’t been there, you wouldn't have seen another day,” Wolfwood grumbled, irritation bubbling in his gut.

Vash shook his head. “It would’ve been fine.”

“It wouldn’t have!” Wolfwood snapped. “You were unconscious, needle-noggin. You think you would have been able to stop it if they’d gone for the kill?”.

Vash tilted his head with a small smile. Too small to tell if it was one of the real ones. “Lucky you were there, then.”

Wolfwood let out a noise of frustration and stubbed his cigarette out of the windowsill. “That’s not the point.”

“It is the point,” Vash pressed. “I’ve always survived, through my own will or through sheer luck. So, yeah, I’d say that makes me pretty happy.”

“You don’t get it, moron!” Wolfwood snapped. “Why bother living a life like this–taking other people’s scars, hurting yourself for their happiness–if you suffer for it? Where’s your reward?”

“My reward is knowing that I’m the only one having to suffer for it,” Vash answered simply. “It doesn't matter what happens to me.”

“Of course it fucking matters!” Wolfwood shouted before he could reign it in. His anger was bubbling over and it was corroding his self-control. Vash opened his mouth but Wolfwood shut him up with a finger shoved in his face.  “People care about you, Vash. Do you know what the girls’ faces looked like when I dragged your bleeding ass in here? You’re not the only one suffering when you pull bullshit like this.”

Vash stared into Wolfwood’s eyes as he seethed. It was like he was searching for something and couldn’t find it. Wolfwood was about to look away, unable to face the coming disappointment at his lack of whatever it was, when Vash asked. “Do you care?” 

“What?” the word tripped out of Wolfwood’s mouth in sheer surprise. “What do you–”

“You said people care about me,” Vash whispered. “Does that include you?”

Wolfwood did look away then, and only looked back because Vash was moving again, trying to pull himself on his elbows. “Blondie, I told you–”

“Help me up,” Vash said through gritted teeth.

Wolfwood could do nothing but obey. He gently braced his arms around Vash and lifted him until he was leaning against the headboard. As he tried to pull away, however, Vash grabbed his arm.

“Answer me Wolfwood,” he pleaded.

“What does it matter?” Wolfwood huffed, scooting back (too close to those sky-blue eyes was a dangerous place to be) but not shaking off Vash’s hand. “I’m just a terrible undertaker who smokes too much for his own good. My opinion’s not worth much.”

“I want everyone to be happy, I guess,” Vash said, throwing Wolfwood’s words back at him with a playful grin.

Wolfwood rolled his eyes and looked down at the sheets. It didn’t last long–Vash immediately reached out and lifted Wolfwood’s chin with a finger until they met gazes yet again.

“Do you care about me?” Vash whispered, eyes glistening. “Are you upset because I got hurt today?”

And Wolfwood–in the face of that wet, blue, unerring gaze–Wolfwood was weak. 

“Yes,” he breathed. “When I saw–” his voice cracked and he tried again. “I thought I was going to lose you.”

“Wolfwood,” Vash sighed, lifting the fingers on his chin to wipe away a tear (wait when had he started crying?) “I'm here. I'm not going anywhere.”

Wolfwood swallowed down a pained noise. Vash couldn't just make a promise like that. He couldn't look Wolfwood in the eyes with that painfully earnest expression and say these things. But because he was Vash and because he had, Wolfwood was making stupid decisions. Like leaning towards Vash and pressing their foreheads together. Like telling him, with a voice raw from emotion, “Kiss me.”

Kiss me because I can’t take that step. Kiss me because I’m not worthy to give but I am unworthy enough to take. Kiss me because I’ve wanted to for months but I didn’t think you’d want me. Kiss me and tell me everything I’m feeling is real.

Vash didn’t hesitate. He tilted his head, using the hand on Wolfwood’s jaw to pull him in closer until their mouths were molded together. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting–maybe an angelic featherlight press of lips, maybe something sinful and wet that they’d never speak of again, maybe a battle-ready scar of a kiss that left him bleeding. But what he should have expected was Vash. Powerful, and strong enough to hold him there, but warm and gentle enough to know that it wouldn’t hurt–not ever, unless Wolfwood wanted it to, and even then only for good reason. Wolfwood melted into it, leaning into Vash’s embrace, arms sliding up behind Vash’s muscled back to cushion the press against the headboard, careful not to stretch the stitches.

Wolfwood gasped when they pulled apart, foreheads meeting again. He felt wrecked in a way he never thought he could be from a simple kiss. Vash was looking at him through his eyelashes, panting breaths ghosting across his lips. Because of this–because Vash had made him feel so vulnerable tonight–there was a tremble in his voice as he said, “Fuck, Vash.”

Vash hummed and pressed his forehead harder into Wolfwood’s. “I’ve been waiting to do that.”

Wolfwood huffed a laugh and closed his eyes. He couldn’t look at Vash like this. It made him want to say things he shouldn’t. Not right now. “Maybe when you’re not actively wounded, I could show you some things I’ve been wanting to do to you.”

Vash had to pull away to tilt his head back and laugh. Wolfwood leaned in, following him, nuzzling at his neck. Vash pulled him in closer, running his hands through Wolfwood’s hair in a way that felt divine. He kissed the undertaker’s temple and murmured, “You forget, I’ll be healed fully in a couple of hours.”

Wolfwood pulled back. “Hmm, I did. But I should still grab us some grub. Might speed up the process.”

Vash smiled–a real smile for sure this time–and let Wolfwood stand, but not before pressing a kiss to the back of his hand.

“I should tell the girls you made a full recovery too,” Wolfwood said. He paused at the doorway to rake his eyes over Vash’s form one last time. “But I think I’ll tell them you’re sleeping it off. Want you all to myself tonight.”

When their gazes met again, Vash was blushing, but his eyes were almost as predatory as Wolfwood felt.

“I think I have to agree.”

Wolfwood shut the door before he could be tempted further.

#trigun #vashwood #my writing #the grey wolf writes

[badtrigunheadcanons]

None of the Trigun characters can drive. Not well anyways.

Vash can’t fallow directions for shit, and probably also gets confused by left and right (as someone who is dyslexic and also has this problem, I get it). He also gets really freaked out by aggressive drivers, which, same. He constantly misses turns and it takes him ten times as long to get from one place to another. He gets lost so often that he’s been banned from driving along by Wolfwood, Meryl, and Milly. Also Vash is 100% the type of person to have a shot ton of bumper stickers on his car. He just gets too distracted driving and finds it too stressful.

I feel like both Wolfwood and Meryl have really bad road rage, and also, the only thing I’ve really seen about Trigun stampede (other than the “I can see it in his eyes” line) is Meryl hitting Wolfwood with her car soooooooooo (however I do fully believe that Trigun Meryl would have intended to purposefully hit him with her car, so there’s that.)

By far Wolfwoods the one to go to if you want a ride, road rage and all. He gets very impatient when driving longs distances and will just run red lights if there aren’t any cars coming. He’ll also probably grumble angrily about incompetent drivers at every rest stop. Also, if he were driving in a car, he would 100% do the parent thing and shove his arm out in front of whoever’s in the passenger seat whenever having to abruptly stop. If there are people in the back when this happens he will worriedly look back at them and quickly make sure they’re okay.

Meryl would be good with directions but has horrendous road rage, way worse than Wolfwoods. They never let her drive because whenever they do they are worried for their safety along with everyone else’s in the vicinity of the road.

Milly just. Can’t drive. Like, doesn’t have her license or anything. She just hasn’t felt the need to and normally just gets rides from Meryl or Wolfwood if she really needs to. If she can she’ll just walk or bike places. Much like Vash, she finds driving makes her too anxious, and she hasn’t had good experiences when actually trying to learn so it just makes more sense to her to just not.

#trigun #trigun headcanons #vash the stampede #meryl stryfe #milly thompson #nicholas d. wolfwood #vash #look all I’m saying is that Meryl can be very scary #especially when driving #I’m also saying that milly and Vash would cry if someone honked at them #Wolfwood says fuck traffic laws #he gets a ticket like every other week

[shingansoul]

For the Little Sisters and Crybaby Boys (Trigun fic)

Summary:

Vashwood week day 7: Free day

So I have wanted to start trying to write more about my thoughts on Vash's relationship with the other plants for awhile and so I thought the perfect way to ease into it would be for the concept of "Family", something that has such specific connotations for sides of Vashwood. I hope you enjoy!

@vashwoodweek

To read on AO3, follow the link below. To read here, continue past the read more!

“So, ‘little sister’ eh?”

Vash startled hard, stopping dead from their walk through town as his metal capped boots dug into sand and almost pitched himself forward to fall. Wolfwood stopped a couple steps ahead, grinning cheekily back at his companion’s over dramatic reaction. While the blonde was still windmilling his arms to keep his balance Wolfwood lit a cigarette and brought it to his lips. He got a good long drag out of it before Vash finally caught himself and trotted up to him to close the distance once more. When He stood next to the priest again, wolfwood playfully blew the smoke in front of his face in lazily floating “O” ‘s instead of a steady stream. Vash blinked and with a pout he swatted them away with a gloved hand before walking onwards to continue their casual stroll.

“That’s a hell of a question to ask a guy on the way to breakfast, dont’cha think?” 

His voice trilled a bit with a bit of a forced chuckle for lack of knowing how to respond. Wolfwood canted his head in Vash’s direction, humming thoughtfully.

“Well, there’s not exactly a scheduled time and place to ask someone about talking to plants the way you’d talk to your sibling, not that i’ve ever heard at least.”

Vash made a sour ‘you got me there’ expression and sighed, crossing his arms for lack of idea of what to do with them. 

“Well… they are my siblings, sort of…not like Knives is, but..” He nervously glanced at Wolfwood, gauging his reaction before trying to move onwards. To Wolfwood’s credit, he didn't stop nor did he say anything in return. He did however let his eyebrows shoot up into his bangs and his eyes look over his sunglasses to meet Vash’s own greenish blue ones with a look of surprise. After a few moments he let his features relax but his attention was just as intent on the other to continue. Vash sighed, a mix of releasing nerves he still had and letting himself relax from the bracing he had done for any possible less favorable reaction the priest might have had.

“We were born much later than the others, the plants I mean. They were all…,” He paused, unsure what word was best before he settled on, “ made back on earth, before they sent out the people that would be the first one’s here on this planet. Not that they were supposed to come here specifically but…” He laughed awkwardly, unwilling to meet the others' eyes.

Wolfwood took the moment to let himself slide the step of distance between them over as they walked, pressing their shoulders together and occasionally their legs would gently glide against the other’s as they walked. Vash let his lips quirk a little at the action, glancing up at Wolfwood in silent appreciation. 

“Some were made specifically for that trip, while others had been around for many hundreds of years before I was ever born. So technically they’re closer to like…my aunts and cousins or even my grandma by a good few greats? But they can’t really take care of themselves like I can, they’re working so hard for everyone else here. So..since they always need cared for, I like to think of them as my little sisters who I can sometimes give relief or even guidance to. Th-that’s probably a bit unfair to say about them, and maybe it’s selfish to say they can’t-...well.” He stopped himself, shaking his head as if to physically shake off whatever thought line he had caught himself going down without realizing it.

“I can feel them, their pain, their emotions and desires, and I can share my own with them as much as I can take on theirs. And they’re the only ones like me and Knives, so… they’re family to me, even if the concept isn't really for things like us i suppose. If we can give to the humans, I think maybe it’d be okay to take on things from them too. Having a family has always felt nice to me.” 

He offered a smile to the man at his side, a bit small but it felt genuine so Wolfwood offered one of his own briefly. He let his gaze fall to flit about the town around them, a few scattered stores and stalls wafting scents of anything from soap and leather to metal and various foods both tempting and appalling alike. The blend was a bit overwhelming admittedly, but aside the scrunch of his nose in reflex he didn't mention it. It wasn't much longer until they arrived at where Vash had first excitedly been pulling him early that morning, a small stall smooshed into the space between two strips of buildings with various shops and the occasional home attached. The smell from it wasn’t as strong compared to the mix in the air around them, but noting the various treats and breads on display in the glass box atop the counter made him shoot Vash a fond look of faux exasperation.

‘Donuts, of course.’

The man in question was excitedly bouncing on his heels as they reached the end of the decently short line for the stall, impatience and enthusiasm radiating off him in waves. Wolfwood let his mind wander a bit as they waited, Vash’s mindless prattle about potential various options not lost on him but nothing new to need his focus or response. 

“Having a family has always felt nice to me.” 

Wolfwood certainly understood and shared the sentiment, his very mission being based around that very bond. Family, what was it but those you cared for and those who cared for you in return? Did it need to be anything more than that? Wolfwood couldn't guess at what exactly the plants in their bulbs could possibly do for Vash specifically, but they did give life to the numerous towns that Vash drifted between across their planet so maybe that was how they showed whatever love something like them could. Wolfwood had known since before meeting Vash that he was as inhuman as the thing full of hate and violence that the Eye of Micheal worshiped and killed for. However, over the years together Wolfwood had decided that Vash’s inhuman nature took on the form of benevolence no selfish human could ever match to oppose the unforgiving cruelty of his match. And it was in that compassion and love for the unloveable Wolfwood had nestled himself quite firmly, so he of all people could tell you that Vash loved his “sisters” and most if not all living things alongside them. So yeah, he could certainly see how they were just as much family as his own.

“Nicholas, you just have to try one of these!” 

Wolfwood snapped back to attention, the use of his first name usually reserved for important or emotional moments between them so he was worried at first. However, before he could even say anything, the blonde now in front of him (when did he side step him?) quick as a snake shot forward and shoved something into his mouth. He squawked a bit indignantly, taken off guard but after a moment he took in the flavor; it was warm though not piping hot and the dough seemed to almost melt in his mouth. It was coated in a light sweet icing and what seemed to be some kind of cinnamon flavored syrup. It might have been the most extravagant tasting thing he had ever eaten, and he reached up to greedily shove the rest of it in his mouth, not allowing Vash the chance to possibly snag the rest of it back. Vash laughed happily, turning back to the stall owner and ordered another couple of the gourmet(price and advertising be damned, he knew good quality shit when he tasted it) donuts. 

Without thinking, he licked his finger tips one at a time trying to make sure he didn't waste any of the syrup or glaze. He caught Vash’s owlish blink and head tilt in this action, neck growing hot out of mild embarrassment but the wide smile and warm laugh that Vash gave in return made it more than worth it. To get a look like that just for him, he’d do much more without regret than a little childish desert eating. Having by now finished paying and receiving the rest of their haul, Wolfwood let himself be led by the crook of his elbow across the street towards the main plaza where there were a few unoccupied benches. Vash all but dead dropped onto the first one they got close enough to, dragging Wolfwood down beside him earning him a light flick to the head as punishment but they were both grinning despite themselves. Once settled, Vash almost desperately rooted through the bag, grabbing another donut and passing it to Wolfwood’s waiting hands. He only then fished one out for himself and bit into it with an exaggerated moan that bordered tears of joy.

Wolfwood slung an arm over the back of the bench behind Vash, nibbling at his own treat much more slowly than the first one had been killed off. Vash was mostly distracted with his treat, but he leaned back so that his shoulder blades were against the priest’s arm to offer some kind of casual contact. Wolfwood waited until Vash had calmed down most of the theatrics and was simply eating before he decided to offer almost too-casually a bit of himself forward. After all, it was only fair.

“I guess mine are like little brothers and sisters too, by that logic.” He said it without looking at Vash, so he heard rather than saw the cocking of his head in interest as he hummed in interest while chewing on the current bite of pastry in his mouth.

“Nobody at the orphanage is actually related to anyone else, we usually got kids left on their own without a chance anywhere else, not whole broods or anything like that. And twins aren’t the most common, unlike with you, needle-noggin. But everyone is like a big family there, Miss Melanie always taking care of everyone and the older kids chipping in with the younger ones to lighten the load. It was hard work living there, but it was…it was really nice honestly. I don’t know if anyone that was there last I visited is still there, but the little ones would always look up at me with runny noses and wet eyes and I always ended up caving. They’d always…they’d always call me…” 

He had to pause, realizing that as he went on, he felt his throat burn a bit and there was a certain pressure light but certainly there in his nose. Had he really almost-? He felt a hand rest on his thigh, squeezing it gently and he looked over to see Vash offer him a small smile and understanding eyes and he leaned into his space a bit more.

“What did they call you, Nicholas?”

This time, it felt right hearing his first name spoken so gently and coaxingly from the blonde’s lips. He inched his foot outwards until his knee pressed up against the smooth metal of Vash’s kneepad. It was cool against his skin through his pants, grounding him a little as he swallowed back down the lump in his throat from earlier. Regaining his composure, he closed his eyes and leaned his head back to rest against the back of the bench they sat on.

“Nico-nii.”

“Would you…like to tell me more? About the kids at the orphanage all the way in December? About the time you were their Nico-nii? You don’t have to of course but…”

With the taste of sugar on his lips and the warmth of his only friend against him, he nodded slowly and began to recall. And he hoped on this bench in a nameless town to the south, he could instead think of December and the crowded but humble streets of its market district. Of kids playing games outside while he fed their thomas’ and helped Miss Melanie hang the laundry. Of him watching and carrying around babies and coaxing little crybaby boy’s that the orphanage was a nice place to live in a world like this. And he hoped that Vash could see it with him some day.

#trigun #vashwoodweek #vashwood #vash the stampede #nicholas d. wolfwood #fanfiction

[omoghouls]

Always happy to see my favorite fawn in yet another fandom of mine ;) 1998 ot4 Vash gets diapered travelling around with the gang (they can't spare the water to keep washing his pants) and has to play roulette everytime he needs a change because Milly is sweet and eager, but she baby talks him the ENTIRE time and manhandles him, Meryl is fine and straightforward but she'll tease him once she has him down on the changing mat, but Wolfwood is the worst because hes gonna do both and spank Vash for wriggling around too much. But he gets a kissy on the forehead afterwards (⁠ʃ⁠ƪ⁠＾⁠3⁠＾⁠）

I collect fandoms like neat, little rocks you find on the beach ;w; and then decimate said rocks with piss and diapers xD

AND O M G YA A AAAAAAA- omgomggg

It just becomes far easier to keep the typhoon padded up while they're traveling between cities-keeps everyone dry (because Vash has definitely wet himself while they were in a car which, close quarters means at least someone else got wet too [probably Wolfwood because Meryl was on driving task ])

Ofc Vash gets all pouty about it at first, saying how it's so unfaiiiir, not his fault the other's don't know how to take breaks (Which, gets him retorts of "Well, we thought a 150 year old would have figured out how to hold his piss in by now" or "Tough, either this or you're raw-dogging on a towel.") Eventually, he just accepts this is his traveling arrangement when with the three others xD

At first, the others let Vash change himself, thinking that he'd be at least semi-decent at that.

That arrangement is short-lived because it's very quickly realized Vash is AWFUL at self changes (he doesn't tape it snuggly enough, leak guards aren't pulled out, and he's somehow put them on backwards more than once-). So, it's a tag-team of keeping that man changed-

Milly is definitely eager. She's the one who routinely checks him and announces he needs a change xD She'll just pick him up like he weighs a sack of potatoes and chats the whoole time, definitely baby talking all while Vash is laying there, covering his face with his jacket.

Meryl has a vague idea of typically the times when Vash needs a change, so she'll just lightly drag him off by the hand or ear to change him (and 9/10 she's correct. Which still amazes Vash) and when she has him on the changing mat she'll tease him like "Wow, going to have to double you up if you're going to go through one so fast!"

And Wolfwood omgg xD He'll just pick Vash up like one does with a drenched cat (arms reach out) and walks him over to an area to change him. Ofc Vash squirms because Wolfwood just rawdogs the wipes, so they're freezing! Wolfwood gives a warning look at Vash before spanking like, "If you're going to squirm like a worm, we'll leave you with the damn sand worms. They'll be your new family."

Which quickly has Vash stop squirming, but he now has that sad puppy dog expression until Wolfwood is finished the tape job and he gets his lil forehead kissie for staying still♡ aaAAAAAA

#m #omutsu #diaper mention #AANNANANSDNDMEKWKDNND

[fleurmatisse]

(a mildly au vashwood meet-ugly i simply cannot stare at anymore enjoy)

A noise wakes Wolfwood. He has a pistol in his hand before he has rational thought in his head, on his feet and aiming at the bedroom door, the boarded window. Crammed into the corner where he can see both. His heart pounds in his chest—alive, alive, alive—and he hears the sound again: a shriek, raspy and piercing. 

But not human.

He keeps ahold of the gun. Leaving the bedroom, he can’t help creeping through the open back room of the house. There’s just enough space between the dusty curtains on this window to peer outside, where the suns clearly illuminate a pile of birds.

Wolfwood stares at them, adrenaline fading. There are crows perched on something red—some kind of fabric. A trio of hawks surround them, one with wings spread as it hops closer, an intimidation with no effect. The shadows of others drift over the sand around them. Wolfwood tracks one spiraling tighter, distorting over the crows, up the red (a blanket?) and brushing the profile of a pale, human face.

“Shit,” he mutters, wishing his base instincts included lighting himself a cigarette. He squints at the face—does he know it, is this a threat—but the angle makes it impossible to tell. He works his jaw, debating. With another curse, he sets out to find his boots.

Part of the reason Wolfwood picked this house is that it’s impossible to sneak up on—or if not impossible, at the very least difficult. Butted up to a sheer cliff that shades it from the worst of the suns’ heat, the rest of the house is surrounded by nothing but flat rock. In the distance, he can see the edge of the town he visits as infrequently as he can. And between them lies a body being pecked at by birds.

He doesn’t begrudge the birds their meal; it’s slim pickings for everyone out here, and if you’re dumb enough to be caught dead in the sand, something is sure to take advantage of your misfortune, be it bird or worm or man. If it turns out that the body is some random unlucky traveler, Wolfwood would simply prefer if the birds didn’t start chowing down this close to his door. He doesn’t feel like smelling rot for the next week or dealing with half-cleaned bones once it’s too dryed out to be worth the effort. 

And if it’s not a random traveler, Wolfwood won’t be sticking around long enough for the birds to even crack it open.

He scans the area around the house before he fully steps outside; if anyone’s waiting for him, he can’t see a sign of it. The crows pay him no mind as he approaches, though the hawks dance away enough that he can see the swath of red is a coat. He stops five feet away and eyes the birds that are eyeing him. When he lifts his gun, they all scram, sending up a swirl of dust and feathers as they squawk and scream. 

Wolfwood brings his shirt over his nose to avoid breathing in the dust and crouches to get a better look at the body’s face. Just as pale up close, with a mole under one eye and blond hair sticking up all over the place. A shred of familiarity tugs at him, but Wolfwood can’t place it. He scans the rest of the body but can’t see how this guy might’ve died. Exposure? His skin crawls to think of someone wandering so close while he was asleep. If he’s staying here, he needs to come up with some defenses.

Stowing the idea, he straightens and walks a circle around the body, skirting the long black bag at the guy’s back. Does he feel like carrying a dead body that probably weighs as much as him somewhere he won’t have to think about? No, definitely not. He could use the coat and drag him away, but that’s just as annoying. 

“Couldn’t you have died somewhere else?” he asks the body.

The body groans.

Cursing up a storm, Wolfwood takes three quick steps back and lifts his gun again, aiming at the face now scrunching up with pain. His hands are steady as its eyes open, so blue they can’t be real, and land blearily on him. For a second, they just stare at each other. 

Then the body groans again and rolls onto its—his—front, a gloved hand pulling the coat over his head.

Wolfwood…doesn’t know what to do with that.

“Hey,” he says. The not-dead guy doesn’t answer. Wolfwood doesn’t move any closer. “I’m not gonna be so friendly if you keep ignoring me. What the hell are you doing out here?”

From under the coat, a soft voice says with an unconvincing lilt of cheer, “Just passing through!”

After a few seconds of Wolfwood’s unimpressed silence, the guy’s head pokes back out. In a much more tired voice he says, “I don’t want any trouble.”

Wolfwood considers this and tilts his head. “Then tell me how you ended up at my door getting eaten by birds.”

The guy frowns, eyes flicking down his coat and then to the house behind Wolfwood before locking on him again. “I was just getting out of town. I didn’t know anyone lived around here.”

They don’t, Wolfwood is tempted to say. He had found the place abandoned a few weeks ago and did himself the favor of staying put for once.

“And is what drove you out of town going to follow you here?” Wolfwood asks. 

The guy looks startled for a second before giving him a sheepish smile. It looks like it hurts. “I don’t think so.”

Wolfwood jerks his chin toward the valley, daring to lower his gun slightly. “Then keep passing through.”

“Much obliged,” the guy says and slowly gets to his knees. His movements are smooth, but Wolfwood catches the wince as he leans to grab his bag. And the blood where the guy had been laying, two crumpled lumps of metal amidst the pool of red. 

“Did you get shot?” Wolfwood blurts, searching the guy’s front where his coat hangs open. He’s wearing black, disguising any more blood, but there are two circular holes at his side that reveal red-coated skin when he shifts to his feet.

The guy looks down at the blood, free hand coming up to touch his stomach. He smiles again. “Of course not.” He kicks at the bloody bullets. “Must be leftovers from someone else.”

Wolfwood stares as the guy hefts his bag over his shoulder and flashes him a peace sign. 

“Bye!” he chirps, walking toward the valley. He turns about ten feet away, carrying on backwards, and says, “Oh, and if two girls come looking for me, could you tell ‘em I went that way?”

He points in the opposite direction with a hopeful expression. 

Wolfwood raises his eyebrows, blinks, and shrugs. “Sure, why not?”

The guy grins. “Thanks! I owe you one.”

“Two,” Wolfwood corrects, halting the guy’s heel-turn. At the puzzled look he receives, he gestures vaguely at the sky with his gun. “Kept you from getting eaten by scavengers.”

After a second, the guy lets out a quiet laugh, his hand coming up to his stomach again. He’s a terrible liar. “I owe you two.”

With a wave, he completes his turn and marches off. Wolfwood stays put and watches him for a moment, not entirely convinced he won’t just collapse again a little further away, but the guy’s steps don’t falter. He’s even whistling, the sound echoing off the cliffs. Whatever. Not Wolfwood’s problem. He goes back in the house and grabs one of the cigarettes spilled across the counter, lights it with one of the matches spilled next to the cigarettes, and puts the whole encounter out of his mind. Weird people are everywhere—even ones who can walk off bullet wounds. As long as they’re not shooting at him, it is none of his business.

(An hour or so later, a pair of girls knock on his door. The little one shows him a paper with a familiar smiling face printed on it, not folded well enough to hide the bottom edge of the WANTED printed at the top. Wolfwood finally makes the connection—Vash the fucking Stampede. He almost laughs and covers it by taking the cigarette out of his mouth.

“Yeah, I think saw that guy,” he says with a nod. “Big red coat, right?”

“Yes, that’s him!” the big one says, so happy Wolfwood almost feels bad as he points away from the valley.

“Saw him headed that way,” he says.

“Thank you!” the girls call, already racing to catch up with a walking legend.)

#vashwood #vashwood fic #i started writing more and it's driving me crazy so i had to unleash this unto the internet goodnight #my fic

[severalspoons]

Liveblog: Rewatching Trigun, Episode 9 (a Very Important episode)

This is where Wolfwood enters the story. TBH, I would’ve guessed he’d appear earlier. Anyway, I’ve been looking forward to this! Here we go!

-- “That is one heck of a well-prepared dead guy” lol

-- Wolfwood resting against the cross looks vaguely crucified. Oh, symbolism.

-- Could you possibly show any more of your chest, Wolfwood? ;) 

(Also, where does he get his razors and how can he afford them? Actually, same question goes for Vash, too).

-- Vash introducing himself in a silly fake-deep voice. Longest. Name. Ever. Like he’s trying to joke and impress Wolfwood at the same time. Pretty sure he’s flirting. He sounds ike a middle school child trying to talk to a crush, lol.

-- That’s quite a handshake. Would probably break a normal person’s hand.

-- OMG the way they’re laughing maniacally about the water is the best thing ever. 

It isn’t actually that funny, so I think this bit is supposed to stand in for a longer conversation where they’re joking around. 

-- Wolfwood’s voice sounds so blase when he’s talking about the orphanage. 

So we have Meryl guarding her feelings with anger and Wolfwood guarding them with distance/blocked emotions. The only one expressing their feelings in any sort of open way is Vash. In fact, he might be expressing too many feelings. Actually, even Vash doesn’t express deep and meaningful feelings, only momentary reactions to the situations around him, or oversharing about body needs (hunger, thirst, pain, needing the bathroom). He’s a great example of how to hide your feelings while looking like you’re sharing them openly.

-- Wolfwood and kids. Compare how he acts with these kids to how Vash was with Kaite last episode. Wolfwood is gentle and sweet, and literally gets down on their level <3. 

-- What are those food bars Wolfwood is sharing? They look like something astronauts would eat. Are they “lost technology?”

-- Wolfwood feeding the orphans. My heart!. No wonder Vash smiles so sweetly. I probably have the same look on my face right now. XD <3

-- Holy shit Wolfwood’s character analysis of Vash after knowing him for like 30 minutes. It’s perfect. Especially after starting out similarly to Meryl, being like, “this goofy guy can’t possibly be Vash the Stampede.” 

-- And then from that he launches into advertising like, “That’s this man’s opinion anyway...and THAT’S why we have this confessional!” “You really are good at your job, aren’t you?” Vash looks surprised and pissed off. I don’t blame him. He’s been wandering the world for many years, no one understands him and he probably feels so alone. Then someone gets him, but he doesn’t care, he’s just doing a bait and switch routine. Ouch.

-- I think Wolfwood probably did the confessional thing because he just got way too personal and was starting to feel uncomfortable and awkward. This was an excuse. Plausible deniability, if you will: “I’m just doing my job.”

-- “You would have gone anyway, wouldn’t you?” Awww

-- Why the f*** did the colonists of this planet make these giant mechanical spider-things? Of all the guards you could possibly make, why? ::asking the real questions::

-- The little girl whispering “how embarrassing” as the guys who were supposed to save her spin around in quicksand. Ahahahaha

-- These guys fight together really well. They move together really well. In other words, they have perfect chemistry. SO fun to watch.

-- “That’s no ordinary priest.” What/how much does Vash know?

-- Why does Wolfwood bother lying that he’s never used a gun? First of all, Vash just saw him shoot the mechanical spiders outside. Second of all, he’s about to shoot like someone who knows wtf he’s doing, realizing Vash will notice.

-- This episode is really playing up the similarities between Vash and Wolfwood. That surprised me because I remember Wolfwood as more of a foil. But it’s so cool to see Wolfwood at his best and kindest.

-- Wait, where’s the little girl?  Did Vash and Wolfwood even bring her back when they got out of the spaceship? Did they forget why they were out there in the first place?

-- OK, so the entire episode shows the similar values/chemistry/synchronous fighting/endless flirting of Vash and Wolfwood, and then just kind of abruptly pairs them off with the girls for the rest of the ride, for no apparent reason.  

-- Well, not quite no apparent reason. I don’t know how much Wolfwood likes Milly yet, but considering that the alternative is Meryl, I’d pick Milly, too. Lol, poor Vash is left to be tormented by her.

-- Haha, I love how Vash has learned to roll with Meryl’s diatribes and just sass her back.

-- Wolfwood falling asleep on Milly’s shoulder and Milly being a little embarrassed and then just going with it and falling asleep leaning on him herself, aww.

-- It takes four men to lift that cross out of the truck and toss it down to Wolfwood, who just catches it without his arms even sagging, as if it were nothing. No wonder he was dying, he lugged something that took 4 normal men to carry for 100 iles (the equivalent of miles), in the desert heat.

-- “It’s so heavy because it’s full of mercy” lol iconic

-- Wait, why is Wolfood leaving? I thought he had reasons to stay with them--wait, is that a spoiler?

-- Haha he says goodbye to Vash personally by name and then says goodbye to everyone else as a unit.

I’m going to fall asleep smiling now. Seeing them happy makes me happy.

#liveblog #liveblogging #vash the stampede #nicholas d. wolfwood #meryl stryfe #milly thompson #lost technology #straightwashing #the moment we've all been waiting for #the gang's all here #good dialogue #character analysis #shipping #vash/wolfwood #symbolism #good writing

[7deadlycinderellas]

If the summer of our lives could just come again, ch10

AO3 link

 At Winterfell

The two moons that turn waiting at Winterfell for Ned to return are hot. Perhaps not hot for King’s Landing, but far hotter than most of Winterfell’s residents were used to.

“It’s like the city is trying to reach out and drag me back itself,” Sansa complains, pulling at her neckline and fanning herself. In these rare hot days of summer, she comes to understands very well how silk became so popular.

Work has grinded to a halt. No one has the energy to do much. Of the children, only Gendry is thick-headed enough to try and keep his work up during the day.

Arya dutifully waits outside the forge, with a bucket of water to douse him with every time he shows his face.

“You’re going to catch your death in there,” she tells him when he elects to work through the mid-day meal. “Finish up and come follow us into the Godswood.”

“I have work to do.”

“Gendry, it’s more than four years until winter begins. The white walkers aren’t going to climb over the wall quite yet, and when they finally do, we won’t be better off if you keel over from heat sickness.”

And with a sigh, he finally agrees and follows her to the Godswood. Summer and Lady are lapping at the water in one of the pools, trying to regulate the heat they are unused to, and not made to withstand. The others are crowded under the trees in the meager shade they offer. Sansa is explaining to Jojen and Meera that the pools here are fed by the hot springs, and henceforth, too warm to swim in comfortably that day. When Arya and Gendry approach, Meera has removed one of her shoes and is gingerly testing Sansa's words. After a moment, she pulls it back out, cringing.

“So, what are the lot of you up to today, if not work?” Gendry inquires, flopping on his back in the grass.

“We’re trying to figure out if the rest of us are going to be able to keep up once Sansa leaves,” Bran admits.

Sansa shakes her head. It���s half false-modesty, half hiding the fact that part of her is still perplexed whenever they look to her to lead them.

“It’s true,” Arya tells her, stretching her legs out in front of her. The grass in this spot has begun to go golden instead of green, it’s been hot for too many days. If it doesn’t begin to cool or rain soon, it may become a fire risk.

“You were the one who’s actually ruled Winterfell before. You were the one who has dealt with all our bannermen and getting them to stop squabbling enough to deal with the facts at hand.”

“You have Mother, and Robb too. Robb is heir to Winterfell still, he’s been being groomed for this his entire life. “

But Robb doesn’t know, despite their stories, quite what is coming. And deep down, they all have questions about how his judgement went before.

“Also, you were the one who was in King’s Landing and the Vale and Winterfell the whole time, even with the horrors, you did get to see and hear quite a lot of what happened.” Bran mentions, “Most of the rest of us spent those years sleeping in the dirt, no idea what was going on.”

Yes, she was a fine spectator to that horrid game.

“I don’t even know what I’m supposed to do when we get there. I won’t be Joffrey’s betrothed again, I’ll just be the Hand’s daughter. I’m not even sure I could practice with my bow much without attracting attention.”

She had spent her days before in lessons, and sewing, and mooning over Joffrey to such a degree that she wants to vomit in its memory. After Ned’s death, she’s sure she spent her days doing something, but she remembers nothing but terror.

“Learn to play cards, or cyvasse, or a musical instrument of some kind” Gendry suggest, “Women in inns and taverns do that, they can’t always be in sewing groups.”

“And if you show a little interest, Septa Mordane will probably give you lots of books on all the things we were supposed to learn,” Arya tells her. “She always seemed sad that neither of us were very interested in history.”

“High Valarian could be useful too, “ Jojen suggests. He has taken well to learning the language and has taken to pestering Maester Luwin for extra lessons.

High Valarian just makes her think of Daenerys, and Sansa has tried to block the woman from her mind. Though always on the horizon, her life is completely out of their hands. Thoughts of her final days were bad enough.

These are all good suggestions, Sansa thinks, but still. Her stomach twists at the thought of having to spend her days dodging Joffrey’s cruelty with their futures hanging in the distance. The best she can probably hope for will be to escape his notice all together.

After a light supper of nothing that has to be cooked, the outside air finally begins to cool.

When everyone is clearing from the Great Hall, Sansa taps Arya on her shoulder.

“Want to go riding before it gets completely dark?”

Arya nods. When they leave the Great Hall, it’s still quite light, the summer still dragging on long. Unfortunately it means that it’s still humid, despite the small drop in temperature.

There’s just one stable girl left sweeping up, who nods when Arya moves to get the saddles and reins on.

“You can go on in Amma, I’ll put everything up when we’re done.”

The girl nods. Of course, Arya knows her name. She knows almost all the names of the servants in Winterfell’s employ, even the ones Sansa would have never spoken to before. She was Arya Underfoot, and the years had not changed that.

Eventually, Sansa pulls herself unsteadily onto the stout, gray, mare Arya had pulled out for her.

“You don’t like riding,” Arya says, frowning, while mounting her own horse, “why’d you want to go out?”

Sansa shifts her weight in the saddle, trying to get comfortable.

“I want to get better. I don’t want to ride in the wheelhouse all the way to King’s Landing this time. I want to be able to see the land as we pass through. Even if I end up with my thighs black and blue at the end of the day. I thought this would be a good enough time as any to start.”

Arya leads them, and they leave the stables. They can’t go into the wolfwood- it’s too close to night, and dangerous- but they can walk through the courtyards, and the training yard, and back around the glass gardens, without troubling anyone. And Sansa feels it’s easy enough practice.

“It’s not just you. Meera and Jojen are both still uncomfortable riding at faster than a trot and Gendry...Gendry rides a horse slightly less well than another horse might.”

Sansa laughs softly.

Arya purses her lips before talking again.

“I am going to miss you. Not just having someone to look to for guidance, but I am actually going to miss you. “

“For once, I will genuinely be just a raven away.”

She doesn’t want to admit how frightened she is. How alone she is going to feel. King’s Landing was a viper’s nest before, at best.

“I almost feel like I should go with you, like we did before.”

Sansa’s stomach tightens in a knot.

“No. Not again. You’re needed here. Whether or not you’re good at the diplomacy, and the other things I am, you’re needed. You and Gendry and Davos all fought the others, and you needed here on the line, helping to prepare. Far more than I am.”

They ride the rest of the way in silence. By the time they finish, the sun is completely gone, only a thin line of dark red-yellow remaining on the horizon. When they’re dismounting, and Arya is untacking the horses, Sansa asks her,

“Do you ever feel like some things in our lives are just preordained?”

Arya wrinkles her nose,

“What, like, they’re going to happen no matter what we do?”

Sansa nods.

“I saw Bran fall the other day. He hit a rock and his leg twisted under him, and he didn’t react fast enough. He hit the ground and cursed so loudly I saw one of the younger serving girls run off to find Maester Luwin. He kept saying something about the gods seeming to want him to stay helpless.”

“Fuck that,” is Arya’s take, “It’s not the gods who keep bringing you to King’s Landing, it’s fucking King Robert. The only thing that controls things in our lives is us, and if things seem to keep happening the same way, it’s because we’re still the same people making the same choices. Fuck destiny.”

She puts the saddles and blankets away and drags over water for the horses, before her and Sansa move to leave.

She reaches out and claps Sansa on the arm, squeezing her wrist tightly.

“And think about this. You didn’t make it to King’s Landing with Lady last time. Will you let anything happen to her this time?”

“No!” Sansa nearly yells. Her wolf is full grown now, quiet and often unseen. She will not become a victim of the Lannisters anymore than her own lady intends to.”

That is it. She will not be a victim this time. Bad things may happen to her, but she will go to them with a clear head. And with her wolf by her side.

When they’re walking back to the castle, a wolf howls from off in the woods somewhere. Arya smiles softly.

“That’s probably Nymeria.”

Sansa purses her lips,

“Doesn’t it make you sad that she’s basically wild again?”

Arya’s voice is a bit sad when she responds.

“I only had her for a little while. She ran wild and made her own pack. I can respect that. And she could have run off to the Riverlands with neither a bye or a leave, but she hasn’t. She’s stayed close.”

And with that, Arya nods, and heads off to bed.

Later, crawling under her covers and feeling terribly alone, Arya wonders if Sansa had ever managed that. To find anyone else who she considered pack. She’s considered Gendry that very quickly, and even Hot Pie to some extent, but she realizes she has no idea if Sansa came to view anyone that way. She hopes she did.

The next morning, on their way to breakfast, Arya and Sansa both encounter Bran, Meera and Summer heading out towards the stables with a tray of applecakes. This doesn’t surprise them, they’ve taken to occasionally eating breakfast with Willas, but Bran stops and grabs Sansa by the arm.

“Father executed both Ramsey and Roose Bolton this morning.”

Sansa’s head is suddenly swimming.

“How- are you sure-”

“I warged into one of the ravens they brought with them. We should be receiving a message in a day or two, but I thought you would want to know right away.”

Sansa’s head swims until they sit down at the table. When they do, she just puts her head into her hands and laughs.

There’s another raven that comes that day, from the Last Hearth. Even Sansa's bitterness at her memory of what they had done to Rickon and Osha couldn't distract her now. The last of the bannermen that Davos had needed to ride for, and the one that proved fruitful. His visit had coincided with the capturing a wildling woman fleeing the wall with her two young daughters. The Umbers live so close to the Wall, that they were well used to wildling raiding parties, but Davos writes that there had been no thefts and the three had been clearly running, not attacking. It still took some convincing to allow him to escort them back, instead of just executing them.

Davos writes,

 I told them to listen to their story before we left. And if they captured any more, to see if they told the same. I gave them your edict too, that any who attacked or harmed people unprovoked could still be held to the law, but anyone who cooperated or surrendered should be sent towards Winterfell under guard for interrogation.

“That might be a tough sell,” Arya muses. “Us down here have basically been taught that the wildlings are boogeymen and up north most would rather die than trust a crow.”

“I suppose all we can do is hope that word will get around that their reports of...the wights, are being taken seriously,” Catelyn says, mouth still fumbling around her words.

They are important words, terribly. But Sansa can’t really discipline her mind this morning.

Her own boogeyman is dead.

True to Bran’s word, the raven from the Dreadfort comes a few days later.

She can barely stand to read Ned’s own telling of what he had found there. All of what Theon had told them had proved true, but there had been more. Among it, evidence and testimonials that Ramsey had poisoned Domeric, his own half brother and Roose’s heir.

When questioned alone, Ned wrote, nearly the entire household had been willing to testify to the horrific crimes that had occurred. Despite this, he was forced to stay for more weeks, both to root out loyalists and collaborators, and to deal with what to do with the remains of the household, and to decide what to do with the Dreadfort itself.

 I think leaving it vacant is prudent for now, he writes. Both as a testament to the crimes committed here, and in case it becomes necessary as a fort or shelter in the years to come.

After the Boltons fall, the weather finally begins to cool off.

Davos returns to Winterfell before Ned does, bringing with him the three wildling prisoners. The woman’s name is Karsi, and her daughters are Johnna and Willa. Karsi herself is fierce and defiant in personality, but neither of the girls are older than ten, and seem more curious than anything.

When they come, Davos leads them tied with ropes. Catelyn and Robb are nominally in charge, but Sansa and the others are the ones who ask them most of the questions.

“Why did you come south?”

The three of them tell a story of their village being attacked, and though they killed the attackers, they wouldn’t stay down, so eventually, those who remained, splintered and ran.

“The people who attacked you, what did they look like?”

Karsi shakes her head, in seeming disbelief, but Johnna is the one who speaks.

“Weren’t people. Least not anymore.”

“Their skin was like ice,” Willa adds, “And their eyes were bright blue.”

“Just wights then,” Arya says, “You can burn them. Have to burn the dead bodies too, or you just get new ones.”

If Karsi expected that to be the response they got here, her face says the opposite.

“Did you have any other plans once you got over the Wall?” Robb asks them.

Karsi shakes her head.

“We just were trying to put as much space between us and those things as we could. “

“It’s enough for now,” Bran interrupts, “They won’t be able to get over the wall for a long time.”

Karsi’s face twitches,

“How’d you figure that?”

“Point being, “ Robb cuts in, “If you are willing to help us if it comes to it, and agree to obey our laws, you may stay here in the service of Winterfell.”

“And if we refuse?”

“You will be kept here as prisoners. You would still serve, but in chains. You could try and flee of course, but be assured, no one further south than this will have a single ounce of belief in the stories you tell. Most of Westeros still believes the others are fairy stories meant to frighten children.”

Willa, the younger girl, whispers as if a mouse,  “I’m tired of walking.” Her older sister wraps an arm around her.

Meera eyes them,

“Either of you old enough to carry your own spear yet?”

“I am, but I have no spear,” Johnna tells her. “Willa’s too little still.”

“She won’t be for too long,” Meera says grimly, “Once you’re settled we should get them into both of your hands.”

When Catelyn gets up to help get them settled in, Robb asks them.

“What made you agree?”

Karsi looks him up and down.

“The man who brought us here called us Free Folk. Didn’t know southerners ever used that term. And you didn't seem overly concerned as to whether we would bend the knee.”

She spares her children a look, Arya is untying their ropes, and subtly checking them for hidden weapons.

“My ancestors would curse me for it, but I want my daughters safe more than I give half a fuck about the opinions of the dead.”

The three of them have mostly settled in by the time Ned has returned. They are guarded for several days in case they try to attack or run. Some of the servants question, but the three of them are good workers, so it mostly works out.

When Ned returns home, they give him a night to rest before they spring the King’s letter on him. He sighs deeply.

“I suppose you have all talked this through already?”

Sansa nods.

“And don’t try and fight me on going with you, we’ve already decided it’s for the best,” Even though inside she still wants to cry and never ever leave Winterfell.

Ned sighs again.

The day before they are set to leave, Sansa is finishing packing, with Lady watching her.

“Nothing will happen to you,” she assures the wolf, “You’re big enough to fight them now, any way.”

“Got anymore room in there?”

Sansa turns to find her siblings, and Gendry, standing in her doorway. Her heart swells.

Arya steps forward, and hands her a bow, and quiver full of arrows.

“Meera and I have been working on it for a few weeks. It’s nice and small, so you can carry it on horseback. Can’t go getting soft again just because you’re going among fancy southerners.”

Gendry hands her something as well. It’s a dagger, made of dragonglass.

“It was the first one we finished, just in case.”

He hands her another one, just made of regular steel this time.

“For the more human monsters.”

Both of them will fit neatly in the pockets she’s been sewing into the waists of all of her gowns.

Bran doesn’t have a gift for her, but he stumbles forward and hugs her tightly.

“It’s been wonderful, getting to act like we’re all a family again.”

This is true, it’s the truest thing Sansa has heard in weeks.

The next morning, when everything’s being packed and loaded, Davos presents her with a small carved wolf.

“Know you’re probably too old for this sort of thing, but I made one for Shireen before-” he cuts himself off.

Sansa smiles.

“I love it.”

And she embraces the older man too.

By the time she moves to hug Arya her arms are beginning to get sore from it all.

“Torment Joffrey for me all you can,” she says, tearfully, “but do it safely.”

Oh what a world they’ve come to live in, Sansa thinks, that Arya is lecturing her on safety.

Catelyn is the last in line.

“Just remember, this is your home, we are your family. Your father too, don’t let him forget that.”

Catelyn Tully, Sansa thinks, ‘Family, Duty, Honor’, personified.

As she mounts the stout gray mare that she has chosen to ride, Sansa tries not to eavesdrop on her parents’ goodbye.

There’s been a shift, since Ned’s come back. While him and Catelyn could still only be described as cordial in their interactions, those cordial interactions have become more...comfortable.

Looking back over her shoulder at Catelyn, Sansa wonders if her parents will ever be the same as they were.

She looks at the rest of them. Arya’s holding Gendry’s arm tightly, Bran’s hiding his face. Robb is trying to look dignified, but his lip is quivering. Even Davos looks misty eyed. Only Rickon, little Rickon who may be the only member of the family with no clue what’s happening or what’s at stake.

This won’t be the last time they see each other. Not this time.

#game of thrones #A Song of Ice and Fire #gendrya #time travel fix it #fic

[pancake-breakfast]

I've been neglecting Tumblr as a whole this weekend as I burn through costume-making, but I think I can keep up with Trigun Book Club!

Archive

Trigun Volume 1: Covers + 1-3, 3 Detailed Thoughts, 4, 4 DT, 5-6, 5-6 + DT, 6 DT, 7-8, 9-10

Trigun Volume 2: Covers + Extras, 1, 1 Supplemental Research, 2-4

Stream-of-consciousness thoughts for Trigun Vol. 2, Chapters 5-6 below.

Chapter 5: Murder Café

CW: Sexual assault, human trafficking

This title sounds like a place I'd either really want to eat at or never want to eat at.

It's interesting to see what they did and didn't keep of the city design in Stampede.

Even yandere emo boys have to eat sometimes.

The heck? Is this woman barefoot?? Why would anyone be barefoot out there??? Oh. Oh, shit. Are we gonna get into that aspect of the story already???

Yyyyup. Well, dang. These men chose the wrong bar to stumble into. I know a few things about yandere emo boys and there's a thing or two they're a bit sensitive about....

If your SO ever, EVER slaps you to the floor while screaming at you for looking at someone else, even if it's not in public, get help and get out of there. I realize these guys aren't these women's significant anything, but that's not the point. Or maybe it is. They are the kind of people who would treat another human being this way. They are not people who love these women.

Dude. This shit is blaming Legato for being too pretty and making these women feel bad that they'll never have a handsome man like him while bragging about assaulting them in the same breath. WTH???

Everyone else in the bar wants to take these guys down, but they're big and powerful and intimidating, making it pretty impossible for the average person.

Ok, but this panel of chibi Legato just... chewing away. At this rate I'm gonna add him to my collection. And then shove him in a box and throw him in the bottom of the sea.

I wonder if this guy meant to hit Legato's fork or if it was just a lucky shot. Also, what kind of grip does this man have that he was able to keep ahold of his fork while it was shot in two?!?!

Huh, he was going to let them go about their business, confident they'd get theirs. But they done overstepped now.

He says it like a command, as if they have any control over the matter once he's in play.

Nice and traumatic for all involved. Good... good....

I'm impressed these guys are standing their ground after that display. We're gonna assume they're so scared that whatever sense they had has left their stupid heads.

Current favorite angry Legato face:

Just in case being kidnapped and raped by slavers wasn't already the most traumatic thing to happen to these women....

Honestly, it's good and important to see this bit of humanity from Legato, even if it makes for a much more muddy morality in the story overall. Maybe particularly because it makes for a much more muddy morality overall.

Dude, for his arm to be at this angle, he's gotta have CLAMP-in-their-Tsubasa-Chronicle-xxxHolic-era proportions.

I wonder how Vash would have handled this situation had he been there instead. Surely Vash isn't unaware that this sort of stuff happens in this world....

Chapter 6: A Gathering of Demons

CW: Human trafficking

So much sand....

I love how, in this story, our primary windows into the world are Milly and Meryl. Like, they're characters in their own right, but they're also the closest thing we have to an Everyman through which we interact with the story.

Yeah, Vash is probably on hyper-alert for now because of the Gung-Ho Guns. Constantly concerned about the safety of everyone around him.

That reminds me, I should retrieve my tea from the kitchen. (It's jasmine, if you're curious.)

GoshDARNIT, Legato! You're not supposed to be flattered and happy when people announce they're gonna hunt you!

He's just a silly, happy boy.

Heh. Foreshadowing.

YUS YUS YUS MY BOI WOLFWOOD IS HEEEEEEERE!!!

Soooo many things I could say here and I will say none of them. Instead, let's all just appreciate how much the bus driver here looks like a hippie straight from 1960's Berkeley.

I'm impressed they managed to get that thing on the roof of the van.

LOL, Wolfwood's response to people calling him out for being a frumpy, shady guy....

Awww, cute Vash face!

I love everything about their meeting here.

It's interesting that WW quickly notes how much Vash fits the description on his posters when Monev was quick to say Vash looked nothing like the description of him.

I do like the introduction '98 gave them, though, with Vash inventing a crazy name for himself and then Milly casually dropping the whole "Vash the Stampede" bit.

Vash looks very unsure of WW here. Resigned, but unsure.

The slavers are gonna try to do what to whom? Hahahahahahaha GL

Speak of the devil....

Who the hell is he talking to??

Yeah, this wasn't gonna end well for them....

THE PORTABLE CONFESSIONAL!!! Gods, I hope this thing shows up in Stampede. It's the dumbest thing, but it's also beautiful. Especially the way WW just SHOVES it on people's heads.

WW's introduction is great. Is he a genuine sweetheart or is he a conman? Both??

WW can't not melt at kids, can he?

Dude, they've been hanging out for... what, a few hours? And already WW is reading Vash like a book.

This pose looks... uncomfortable.

Hahahahahaha, he's stuck in it.

Gods, that's a freaking MOUNTAIN of bodies. He should compare it with the one Erwin Smith has.

Ok, I kind of love how Legato handles these guys. He's like, "Oh, so you want to make a profit selling people? How about I kill half of you so you can make a profit off the organs of people you might actually give a shit about? Get fucked, scumbag."

Oh. THAT'S where the chapter title comes from. Hi, everyone!

#gonna make two posts due to length today #trigunbookclub #trigun manga #volume 2 #pancake analysis

[wolveswithhats]

writing wip game

Rules: Post the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Send me an ask with the title that most intrigues you or interests you and I’ll post a little snippet of it or tell you something about it! 

The titles weren’t interesting so I vainly just posted some excerpts from a grab bag of more recent stuff. If I did everything it’d honestly probably go on for pages. I have a lot of unfinished stuff (pretty much...exclusively unfinished stuff dfjkdjfkg). Like a decade’s worth.

Tagged by @ackbang​. TY TY, MY DUDE. If you see this and you’re a writer, consider yourself tagged. Like for real. Only not tagging because I can’t remember who writes fanfic and who doesn’t.

Looooooong post below.

ling ling the goblin king (ling + lan fan, fma)

"lan fan did it," the prince says, and for a moment she feels a flare of anger and betrayal over his deception. 'it wasn't me, i didn't do this. i didn't kill anyone.' but the prince is bending at the waist, low enough that that his tail of hair brushes the dirt, and she realizes his lie is for her benefit. "thank you, m'lady. i owe you my life."

her mouth feels dry, face hot from exertion and the burning gaze of her older peers. "d-don't do that," she stutters, and she's not sure if she's referring to the lie or the bow.

"you dare give me orders?" but there's no heat in his voice, eyes crinkling with humor as he rises to his full height. she has no idea how he can look so amused with a hole in his shoulder, covered in the blood of a man he just killed. he grins lopsided, teeth crooked and painted red. the sight is altogether ghoulish.

limb choppy choppy (lan fan + greed + ling, fma, part of the revival au)

And Greed is stilling his struggles, catching his wandering hand in his own, running comforting circles with his thumb over Ling's blood-smeared cheek. “Hey, you little pissant, this is nothing, piddly kids table shit. Remember that time that one Central soldier tried to gut us? Right down the middle, like splitting a sausage. Goddamn crimson tide. I thought we'd never get the blood out of that coat. Now that was an injury.”

“T-they took my arm.”

“Yeah, and who needs one of those anyway? Gonna get you all sorted, get you one of those shiny metal ones, like your girl Lan Fan here. Guess the adjustment period takes a bit, a year or three, but bet we could expedite the process with proper motivation. I'm thinking sandwiches.”

He laughs, or something approaching as much, a soggy intake of air. She's struck with an unexpected wave of jealousy, that it's Greed that's offering reassurance and intimate personal jokes. A former homunculus, a former demon, a watery imitation of a man. Creature comforts from the creature. It should be me, she thinks, though she has nothing to offer beyond promises of protection, and even those feel like falsehoods after all that has happened here. Comforting platitudes are beyond her. What could I ever say to make this better?

lets get lit fam (greedling + ed, fma)

wobbly-legged, too uncoordinated to walk. almost stumbles into a line of trash cans at the mouth of the alley, but ed hooks his elbow and steers him away. "what the hell were you thinking? we're supposed to be keeping a low profile."

it's not an accusation he's fully equipped to grapple, not when he's still so bleary from sleep—and some other pleasant, dizzying sensation he thinks might be inebriation. he's never woken up drunk before. he's never been drunk before period. "what'd i do?"

"not you, ling. you would have gone straight for the food menu, not the liquor list. i'm talking to the dipshit you share a mental occupancy with. greed, what the hell?"

"was just a few drinks," ling slurs, but it's not his words, or his voice, and wow he's never been so aware of his own tongue before.

solid citizen (ling + greed, fma)

"geez, kid, you're certainly in a mood." so he was reading his thoughts, just fantastic. he look he gives him is withering, but greed pats his shoulder, almost condescendingly, pitying for sure.

"you're plenty fine, kid. i'll give you the ears, but you're top shelf in the looks department otherwise. if you were ugly, i'd tell you straight up. i don't lie. this here," he points to his own face. "is ugly. nothing like my old human face."

it's a bated response, he knows, and he doesn't really feel like playing, but greed did make a passing effort to make him feel better. "human face?"

he beams, dreamily, which is an impressively soft expression to pull off a mouthful of razors, and ling is suddenly reminded of the mythology of the man fawning over his own reflection. surely greed can't be that vain? "yeah i was a real stunner. fucking gorgeous." or maybe he could, apparently, what did ling know anyway.

wreckage (vincent, re-l, ergo proxy)

When she makes it back to the Rabbit, chest burning and damp with exertion, Vincent has already stripped Pino of her overalls and laid her across the table. Cooling fluids draining, frayed wiring spooling out of her gashed torso, sprawled like a tiny metal Tityos. Her left arm is snapped off and dangling at the elbow, her eyes glassy – glass, literal glass – staring at the ceiling. Broken doll parts. Just another disassembled AutoReiv, but this isn't like that at all, because Pino isn't just another AutoReiv. She's like Iggy--

It's almost too much for Re-l to take. Hand over her mouth, breathing sharp through her fingers in short repetitions. Tries to steel herself, to be calm and assertive, because one of them has to be, and Vincent-- Vincent was awkward and mousy and sensitive, Vincent who spilled his cereal and tripped over his own feet and housed an ancient being of unspeakable power in his lanky boy-frame. But his god-strength was of no use here, drowned under the weak, simpering, overpowering grief for something that was no more human than he was.

do NOT worry about meryl (vash + wolfwood + milly, trigun)

milly caught the hurt. naive, for sure, but shrewd. "oh, we'd never think that of you, mr. vash. it's just our job as representatives of the bernadelli insurance society to mitigate any and all damages from the humanoid typhoon, even the rumored ones."

wolfwood: "bernadelli employing a little insurance of their own, eh?"

milly nods. "if we had to pay out claims on every false report of mr. vash's wrongdoings, we'd go belly up in no time!"

caught up on the word 'wrongdoing', growls, "you make it sound like i'm doing any of this on purpose."

"it's just sensible. your name has a lot of weight, vash."

grumbles: "yeah, i'm aware."

"and that's why meryl was so insistent on following up on this one, even knowing it wasn't really you. so many people drag your name through the mud, and it just doesn't seem fair at all."

his name had long since been dragged, strangled and shot, left to rot under a flock of buzzards circling its carcass in the heat. There was no saving it. still, the intent was kind, if not bewildering. "you...were trying to protect my reputation?"

milly looks at him like he's insane for thinking otherwise. "well, yeah. we've come to think of you as a friend, mr. vash, and that's what friends do.”

baby scrub (locke + rachel, ff6)

offers his hand and a single word: "lock."

her faces scrunches distastefully at his uncouth greeting, but she's not sure what else she was expecting from a dirty street boy. "lock?"

"with an e," he adds, as if that clarifies anything.

"that can't be real. you just made that up."

"all names are made up," huffs locke-with-an-e, looking impatient with her slow uptake on this odd world of his. "and i never said it was real, but it's all you're going to get."

spike bday (spike + dawn, btvs)

“if I show you something, you need to promise not to say anything. not to the watcher, or your sister. not to anyone, right?”

even through her tears, she nods, curious. spike's always good for skirting just outside the limits of good taste.

“I'm serious. spool your intestines out your nose, string 'em up like christmas garland. I mean it.”

“colorful threats of bodily dismemberment, I get it.”

hands her a faded yellow tintype. a young man, twenty-five or thirty maybe, a riot of disheveled curls, glasses, frumpy suit. not an unattractive man, but a timid one, uncertainty written into the slanted bow of his shoulders. he had the weedy air of someone who spent a lot of time duct taped to flag poles, or whatever the victorian equivalent would be. did it count as a twirly if you were dunked into a chamber pot?

a rebellious counterpoint in wrinkled tweed to the hard, starched lines of victorian decorum – interesting, but not very relevant. and a little disappointing, if she was being totally honest. spike's anecdotes usually had more flash and gore. “I don't get it.”

he's exasperated, fingers twitching like he's ready to snatch it away, and he tucks his hands under his arms in an awkward self hug. she takes in the hard set of his jaw and the...flush of his cheeks? god, she didn't even know vampires could blush. it had to take some serious breaking of undead physiology to ping that level of embarrassment, and something beyond that even to flap the unflappable spike. he hisses impatiently. “would you just—look at the face.”

and she does, tilting the little photo to and fro in the dim of the crypt. unassuming man-hermione with hair that cannot be tamed. sharp cheekbones and dark heavy brows under the rims of his glasses and suddenly she sees it—him—the angular planes of his face coming into sharp relief, like a camera finding its focus. “oh. oh my god! this is you. holy crap, spike. you look....”

“normal,” he finishes for her, and something in her stomach swoops and clenches, stones in a pond. “mundane.”

“i was going to say like a megawatt dorklord, but we can use your word instead.” she wipes her nose on the back of her hand. he snorts, amused and embarrassed.  

“i was a poet.”

she tried to envision anything beyond smutty limericks carved onto the wall of a bathroom stall.

“were you ever published?”

“i was a shitty poet,” he amends, grimacing.

boston au (spike + dawn, btvs)

bodily kicking a dumpster, sending it careening into the street with a rusty scream of metal. a hydrant follows suit, ripped from the sidewalk. caps off his tantrum with a boot to the side of Angel's GTX, but even the size-10 crater marring the passenger door of the angelmobile did little to ease his frustration.

“better?” dawn asks, when he drops bodily into the driver's seat with an aching sigh, anger dissipating. she looks so tiny and forlorn, knees drawn to her chest, picking at a cigarette burn in the upholstery. two years ago she'd have been a ripe treat, poor little lost lamb. now the idea twists his gut, her sorrow palpable, proprietary, under his skin and in his veins.

“no,” he grunts, staring out impassively at the aftermath of his outburst. water spurting from the sidewalk, skip spilling out into the road. half a dozen cars along the block chirping in a chorus of wailing alarms. and angel in the foyer, something vaguely resembling pity etched across his massive cavebrow. fucking wanker.

...

“we go back to sunnydale then. try again. badger the scoobies until they agree to help. we'll figure this out.”

“i don't want to.” quietly. barely a whisper.

“to figure it out?”

“to go back.”

“dawn...”

“there's nothing there. they're not going to help because i'm nothing. it's an ongoing memorial to my own non-existence. can we not go back? can we just keep driving?”

“where?”

“I don't care. away.”

thinks about leaving sunnydale. thinks about what he's leaving behind. shitty memories, regrets, lost love. he has a small collection of personal effects; records, first edition books, family heirlooms that cannot be replaced, a hundred years of mementos of his whirlwind romance with dru. wonders if he can ring up clem, ask him to send a care package once they get to wherever they're going. looks at dawn in her clearance-rack pajamas, realizes she has lost everything. she has no belongings, no family, no remnants left as evidence she even had a family. nothing but him and her, here, in this moment.

it's just stuff. it's surprisingly easy to let go.

he drives.

taco hell  (spike + dawn, btvs, part of the boston / unravel au)

Right where her window was supposed to be, a swirling doorway of light ringed in licking green flame, spilling out into....a fast food restaurant?

"I think it's Taco Bell," Dawn said, pinching a tissue to her--aw hell--bleeding finger. He took inventory of the spell books around her, the scrying bowl, and the ashy pentagram burnt into 70s shag weave of her bedroom carpet. So much for their security deposit.

"You opened a hell dimension to Taco Bell?"

She craned her head to squint at the pimply teenager manning the register, oblivious to his cross-dimension spectators. "I think it's just a regular Taco Bell. I don't see any dragons or shrimp people or anything."

"Not all alternate universes have shrimp people."

"I know that. You know, it actually looks like the one downtown, across from the KFC? On Kellner? Unless the Kellner Street Taco Bell is a Taco Hell. I've been reading up about liminal spaces, where the fabric between realities is weakened. Maybe it's a hot spot, and all the employees are actually like, octopus centaurs. How would we know? Not like I'm going to crawl over the counter to check, you know?"

"Well, now's your chance to ask Squiddly Diddly here what he's got going on downstairs." Slack-jawed employee finally cottoned on to the door to another universe in the restaurant lobby. Dawn awkwardly waves. Poc Ock waves back, bewildered, before the portal collapses in on itself in a burst of white light.

"It stopped bleeding." she holds up her finger.

-- 

(I don’t think anyone would, but as a precaution: please don’t reblog these to the Herald. They’re sloppy and incomplete and mixed in with a bunch of other fandoms so it’d just be really weird. THANK)

#some of these are ok #most if not all of them will never be finished #i have a ton more? #i just didn't want to go TOO buck wild with it #i already feel like this is way too much lfgklfg #wolves writes

[severalspoons]

Liveblog: Rewatching Trigun, Episode 16 (Fasten your seatbelts and get ready for tragedy)

The more serious and the deeper the episodes get, the harder it becomes to write about them. I feel like I can’t just shitpost any more, I have to say something profound.

-- Yep, there’s Legato eating something soft and sweet again. Pudding this time? ::Ooh, imagine an AU where Vash adopts baby!Legato and Legato and Milly eat pudding together::

-- There’s Midvalley with two groupies. Yep, I knew he was the playboy of the Gung Ho Guns. 

-- “It’s a simple formula. The greater the tragedy, the greater the emotional effect.”  Legato fancies himself a...playwright? Director? 

-- “Walk your own path. Yes, I’ll make it my mission to follow someone else’s path to the end of the earth!” 0.0

-- Poor little guy.

He dances into the bar in the same way Vash danced into that hostage situation in an earlier episode. Except that as far as I know, this guy isn’t pretending. Who knows how he’s survived so long in Gunsmoke.  

-- Vash, there’s a whole desert you could talk to yourself in, you know. You don’t have to talk to yourself in front of an entire barfull of people you don’t even fully see.

-- Legato’s eyes are the part you’re worried about?

-- “That nihilistic jerk” fits Legato well, ngl.

-- You know Vash is preoccupied when he has no idea where he is or who’s around. Thinking back to last episode where he was so perfectly focused, this is concerning. 

Or, maybe it’s not that he has perfect control over his consciousness in every situation, but only when he’s narrowing his attention to a tiny point. Last episode it was pain, this time it’s worrying about fighting Legato. 

Or maybe I’m overthinking a goofy scene that probably only exists in the anime.

-- “It’s time for my daily massacre!” Yessss.

-- Vash is apparently vain about his hair. Well, he had to have some faults other than “too good, too pure for this world” and accidentally blowing up July.*

-- Nothing says “terrifying murderer on a killing spree” like holding up your arm bent at a weird angle, amirite?

-- Poor Dominique. She deserved better.

-- I’m kind of surprised this is the first time anyone’s been killed for failing to defeat Vash. Or maybe this is just the first time he’s been forced to acknowledge it, and had to fight on those terms.

-- I don’t really get E.G. Mine’s powers, and what those round carapace-looking devices sticking out the sides of his armor are supposed to do. I almost wish we had more of a chance to see him in action. Almost, because he doesn’t seem very interesting. 

Honestly if I were their leader,I wouldn’t have hired most of the Gung Ho Guns, but that’s just me.

-- There’s Rai-Dei, bringing a sword to a gunfight. I wish I knew more about bushido, and the Art of War, and what sorts of states of mind actual warriors look for in battle. Because from what little knowledge I have, Rai-Dei takes all of that, mixes it with bloodlust, and perverts it. 

-- I know Legato thought seeing the two Gung Ho Guns squabbling would be entertaining, but honestly, it’s an uneven fight and not a very interesting one. Normally, I like seeing bad guys fighting each other, but I’ll make an exception for this scene.

-- Rai-Dei talks like a Sith trying to recruit someone to the dark side, encouraging Vash to get angry.

-- Rai-Dei creeps me out. He seems to almost get off on Vash’s anger and be way, way too curious what he sees at what appears to be the moment before death. 

-- It’s kind of disappointing that this creep is the one who corners Vash so much he needs his angel arm to escape. Honestly, I didn’t even see him do anything special that should give Vash difficulty. I think his lethality lay less in his actual fighting, and more in the fact that he would be condemned to die if Vash won. Vash had to slow down the fight and look for an alternative way to end it, which put him at a disadvantage.

-- Sorry, I’m going to complain about the art again. And give some spoilers for the manga.

I don’t like how the angel arm looks in the anime. It was distracting. Where were the feathers??? I want to feel uncomfortable because Vash is struggling to contain the thing and could potentially destroy the city, not because of the way the thing looks and moves.

-- Least realistic convincing mushroom-cloud-like blast ever. What was up with the slow motion, jerky stop-and-start animation they did here?

-- Legato is having way too much fun right now. He just acted like a cat licking its paw, like “mmm, delicious destruction and guilt.”  

I think Legato might be the only character who is not in the least unnerved by Vash suddenly unleashing a blast of energy big enough to blow up the moon.

-- Well, OK, Wolfwood doesn’t seem unnerved. Just disappointed. Well, I’m disappointed that he thinks Vash would deliberately choose this “path.” Come on, surely he knows Vash better than that. 

-- Seeing all of the people Vash has helped listening to the rumors about Augusta and struggling to reconcile them with the kind, gentle person they knew...what a gut punch. And somehow it’s worse seeing their first moment of bewilderment, but not how they ultimately make sense of it all. 

-- There’s a lot to unpack here about moral responsibility for actions you commit, but can’t control. The show and Vash himself clearly state that he’s responsible.  It agree. While he doesn’t seem able to control the angel arm once it’s emerged, he still has the choice to find a way to prevent it from emerging, or bring it under control. And however involuntary it may have been, he still blew up the city, and everyone still has to live with the consequences. His intentions are irrelevant to the people left homeless. And he still has to live with the chance that it could happen again.

Yet I’m aware that holding yourself responsible for things you can’t control is an unhealthy behavior that therapists try to stop you from doing. And for good reason--it’s a sure way to develop depression and irrational excessive self-hatred (and is a symptom of OCPD, I believe?). And I think Vash holds himself responsible for a lot. I mean, his mission is to make people more loving and peaceful--yet other people’s feelings and actions aren’t under his control. Is he holding himself too responsible?

Is Vash right to blame himself for blowing up July and Augusta? Am I right to hold him responsible? I’m not sure.

 -- One last observation: this major turning point in the story, and the biggest low so far, happens exactly halfway through the story. Just where it’s “supposed” to be.

*Looks like a cinnamon roll, is sometimes a cinnamon roll, could still actually kill you.

#liveblog #liveblogging #trigun #trigun anime #vash the stampede #legato bluesummers #midvalley the hornfreak #e.g. mine #rai-dei the blade #the budget gung ho guns #trigun spoilers #spoilers #bad animation #angel arm #my very important opinions #moral responsibility #good and evil #philosophy #ethics #choices #feels #so many feels #sinammon roll

[severalspoons]

Liveblog: Rewatching Trigun, The Rest of Episode 18

Because there’s more to Episode 18 than a single sentence.

We open with a flashback.

Knives cuts off Vash’s arm in a single shot. But when Vash turns on him he actually sounds shocked: “Are you actually pointing at me? Are you actually shooting at me again?!” 

Knives makes Vash’s angel arm appear by snapping his fingers. How and why does that work?

There’s a moment of silence after Fake Vash the Stampede (or as I prefer to think of him, Pig Man) blows up the saloon where Wolfwood’s hanging out at the bar and Lina and Ericks are taking refuge. That awful, “Who’s going to do something?” silence. And because no one else steps forward, and Ericks can’t not help, Ericks does. 

But he’s the one with the most to lose. He can’t act too competent, which means he’s gonna get hurt.

Why doesn’t Wolfwood do anything? There’s even a child involved. And I’m pretty sure he recognizes “Ericks,” if not by appearance than by voice. 

More than that, does Ericks notice Wolfwood at the bar, and if so, why does he know Wolfwood won’t step up, and do it himself instead? 

Wolfwood is suddenly at the window comforting Lina. For some reason she doesn’t freak out about some random stranger putting a hand on her head? Especially after that ordeal with pedo Pig Man outside? It’s not your fault, he has his reasons. :’-(

Poor Vash. I can’t look. OK, maybe I can look at that shot of his back. ;)

It occurs to me, there are more reaction shots of Wolfwood listening to Vash sing that stupid song than during this scene. As far as we know, he hasn’t seen Vash’s scars. Wolfwood’s seen some shit, so he wouldn’t freak out in the same way Meryl and Milly did, but it would matter to him. I feel like if the insurance girls had been present instead, we would have seen more of their reactions. But who knows. Maybe the animators just took pity on us and spared us from more secondhand embarrassment.

Weird moment I didn’t remember. Pig Man looks like he’s about to cause more trouble. Wolfwood looks out the window over his sunglasses, which sparkle, in a dangerous way. Pig Man actually backs off and leaves. Does Pig Man recognize Wolfwood? Why didn’t Pig Man see him earlier? Why didn’t Wolfwood show himself earlier, if Pig Man would run away? 

It’s a weird culture where “your pride or your life?” is hard to answer. I’m 100% with Wolfwood when he bangs their heads together and reminds them that they’d be dead if not for “Ericks.” 

Sheryl is tough as knives and protective, even more than Lina. Love her. I can see why Ericks is so at home with them. 

Sheryl and Lina reminiscing about the many times Ericks has previously been in the hospital. One of them, not surprisingly, involved protecting someone. The previous one involved falling off a Thomas. Some things never change. (Geez, you’d think after all this time he would have learned to ride some sort of transportation).

I’m not sure if no one notices Wolfwood because he’s actually a good assassin, or because they’re just oblivious. 

Vash, are you... sparkling? I’m sure there’s a perfectly heterosexual explanation for this.

What sane doctor would let someone who just slapped a patient in the face be alone with said patient?

Vash at probably the most open and vulnerable we’ve ever seen him. A little self pitying, but he’s earned it.

Now he sounds like Fred Marlon: “Whenever I do anything people die.” So he’s refusing to do anything at all. Speaking of Fred Marlon, he repaired Vash’s gun for free. For talking him out of that exact same attitude toward life. Kind of funny, isn’t it.

“If you want this pathetic little existence so bad you’d give up everything else...” Wolfwood has seen enough to know why the existence is meaningful to Vash and not exactly pathetic. But this is Wolfwood, who has experienced very little kindness in his life. Who expresses kindness with a slap to the face. He’s in tough love mode. And it seems like there’s only so much he can be kind without being a dick.

6 months? Wow, it’s been a long time.

Hmm... not the top item of concern right now, but how does Wolfwood know about Knives, or Vash’s commitment to stopping him? 0.0 :3

It’s crucial that Wolfwood leave the room and let Vash freely decide what to do. It’s crucial that he hook Vash in by telling him about Knives. And it’s crucial that he expects Vash to make the right choice and waits patiently outside.

Vash admits how much he really wanted to stay. Wolfwood actually sounds sympathetic when he says, “sorry, them’s the breaks.”

That moment when they get serious and go save Lena (”showtime”) is amazingly hot. Vash in competent mode is amazing enough. I’m swooning.

“100 each? That’s not fair to them.” Love it.

Wow, as soon as they figure out Ericks is Vash, they want to run him out of town?! Did they seriously just forget Ericks saving so many of them on multiple occasions? Did they forget that just as Ericks was really Vash the Stampede, Vash was really also Ericks? Fuck these people.

“You could end up alone with no one there to help. That’s what worries us the most.” Very wise, Sheryl. Fortunately, he’s not going to be leaving alone.

Sheryl telling Wolfwood to take care of Vash and basically saying “unlike you, he’s a good, pure person.” Not quite true, but damn. 

Ah, the symbolic haircut. Vash just isn’t himself without that spiky hairdo. As usual, someone else does it, even though if baby!Knives did a creditable job, Vash could surely manage. 

Vash and Lena saying goodbye is so touching. 

Vash basically just hugs Lena’s head. This is relevant to any discussions about Vash’s sense of boundaries. 

Adorable photos of the three of them together. 

Lina says (and I think Sheryl feels) like she wants to help him, but in the end, he ends up helping her. She feels a little guilty for that. But it’s exactly what Vash needed. 

A lot of my earlier posts have focused on how lonely Vash’s life has been. I’m elated that he found a family who love and support him.

Even though he has to leave and change his identity in order to keep them safe, I hope he really feels that he has a place to return. 

***

This is one of my favorite episodes. There is so much unconditional love, from Sheryl, Lina, and Wolfwood. And for once, Vash is receiving it, not just giving it.

#liveblog #liveblogging #trigun anime #trigun #vash the stampede #nicholas d. wolfwood #sheryl and lina #meta #character analysis #love and peace #found family #feels #vash's many personas #ericks #knives millions #millions knives #fred marlon #vash/wolfwood #vash the stampede/nicholas d. wolfwood #vashwood #killing time