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sc0tters · 8 months

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Ride it Baby! | Trevor Zegras & Jack Hughes

summary: Trevor finally gets a chance to make a move on you but what happens when Jack isn’t far behind?

request: yes/no

warnings: mature scenes, threesome, p in v, oral (m receiving!), handjob (fem & m receiving!), swearing, mild dumbification kink?

word count: 3.73k

authors note: look at me still alive! This request has been staring at me for days and it was about time that it got written out. If you wanna read an actual good threesome series with these two go find the one on @drysdalesv ‘s page! I’ve been writing this for like a week now so I’m glad you all finally get to see it. I picked the Calgary stampede for this cause like: a. it’s men in cowboy hats and b. my dad found his old hat from the 2010 stampede and it’s officially mine when I go home!

You didn’t know how you got dragged into this.

Cole thought it was a smart idea having the group go to the Calgary Stampede and as Luke’s best friend who was also Canadian, you were immediately Luke’s plus one.

It had been an amusing for the first few days watching the boys embody their best country personalities “morning pretty girl,” Jack smiled tilting his hat towards you.

The middle Hughes boy spent the last two years of knowing you towing the line between being friendly and flirty. After all you were Luke’s best friend and that was what Jack had to repeat to himself whenever he saw you “hi Jacky.” You giggled leaning against the counter as the locks of your freshly curled hair dropped to frame your face.

He reached over to tuck your hair behind your hair pushing your hat backwards “get to see your face now.” The hockey player mumbled pinching your chin between his fingers causing you to smile.

Your cheeks grew warm as your stomach turned into knots “c’mon you two were gonna be late!” Trevor called out as the rest of the boys were already waiting outside to make their way to the venue.

Trevor had to admit that the way you looked like he had walked in on something made him feel jealous. The ducks player had thought you were cute since he met you, Trevor just I never thought that his competition to get you would be Jack “let me fix your hat Z.” You placed your hands on your hips as the boys hat was lob sided.

It made Jack smirk at the clueless look on his friends face “thanks doll,” the nickname fell off Trevor’s tongue as you playfully rolled your eyes “we can’t be late now boys.” You giggled walking off as you wrapped your arm around Luke’s torso.

For both boys it was the constant reminder of one of the reasons why they couldn’t have you.

The day had gone on and it was well into the evening when things started to truly get hot “it’s too hot Lu!” You groaned as you shook your head turning down the boys offer to go talk to some pretty girl.

Luke didn’t want to argue so instead he went alone “you feeling hot baby?” Trevor asked patting his thigh for you to sit as there was no space for you on the bench.

You took the offer of his thigh as you smiled “so hot,” you complained fanning your face.

Trevor smirked wrapping his hand around your waist as he pulled you closer “you look hot,” he mumbled effortlessly flirting with you.

It made you laugh “what are you getting at Zegras?” You asked wriggling your eyebrows as you took the beer from his hand taking a few sips from it in the process.

The hockey player felt his cock grow hard as a drop of beer fell from your lips letting it run down your chin all the way between down between your breasts that were highlighted by the tight white T-shirt you were sporting.

Watching his eyes follow the droplet you smirked “you think I’m hot sweets?” You asked reaching forward to take the hat from his head as you let it fall onto your head. Luke had stolen your hat minutes ago so you know had one back on your head.

Trevor’s jaw tensed as he watched the playful grin form on your face “baby don’t tease me,” he warned squeezing your thigh as you pouted.

Your fingers lightly traced up your arm “you know what this means here?” You pointed to his hat causing him to furrow his eyebrows “means I wanna fuck you,” your lips pressed a kiss against his ear lobe making sure that your words were only heard by him.

That was all it took for Trevor’s mood to change “you better not be fucking with me,” his tone was serious making you clench your legs around his thigh.

The hockey player let out a forced cough drawing the attention of his friends “I’m not feeling well,” Trevor blurted out making you furrow your eyebrows.

He didn’t let his fingers stop tracing figures on your thighs “you want to come home with me?” He asked suddenly helping everything fall into place.

You were quick to nod “I’ll make sure he gets home safe.” You mumbled holding your hand out as you two quickly left before anyone could question you two.

Whilst Alex and Cole didn’t seem to care about what happened as two girls walked over to them, Jack never let his eyes leave you two “I gotta go.” He announced quickly letting himself get excused as he slid out of the table.

Despite the fact that that the walk back to the Airbnb was only five minutes it felt like an eternity.

Trevor’s lips attacked your neck as you tried to unlock the front door “fuck Z,” you moaned struggling to focus as your body melted into his touch.

Your hand shook as you failed to get the key in the hole “c’mon baby, don’t you want me to fuck you?” His voice rang through your ears as he went back to kissing your neck.

When you let out a needy cry he finally gave you a moment to breathe “want you to make me feel so fucking good.” You pleaded finally getting the door open.

You turned back to Trevor who smiled “let’s not waste time then.” He mumbled capturing your lips in a kiss.

It was messy as you could taste the beer on his tongue “jump,” Trevor grunted pushing you inside.

His hands hooked under your thighs as you wrapped your legs around his waist shutting the door behind you both. Your lips against his as his tongue ran over your lower lip.

Wanting to play a harder game you kept your lips shut this time frustrating the boy in the process as he carried you up the stairs.

Trevor let his teeth sink into your lip causing you to moan “that wasn’t so hard now baby?” He asked bringing you into his room.

As your body was thrown onto his bed you were reminded of the fact Jack was his roommate based on the second double bed n the room “if you think he’s gonna come back baby, he won’t.” Trevor seemed to take your look as one of concern.

If only he knew.

You nodded smiling as he came down onto the bed with you “been wanting you out of these little shorts the entire day.” The hockey player confessed letting his hands cup your ass that was barely covered by the denim material.

His comment made your panties turn wet “what are you waiting for then?” You gasped at the feeling of Trevor’s cold fingers gripping at the hem of your shorts.

It should have surprised you when it took him little to no effort to rip the denim where your crotch was “now you can’t be in those for the rest of the week.” Trevor smirked at you as he leaned forward letting his nose hover over yours.

Your lips formed a pout “I liked that pair,” you mumbled causing him to laugh “I’ll buy you a thousand of them if it means I can tear them off of you.” The hockey players confession made you whimper as the boy kissed your lips.

His hips grinded against against yours making him wish that the layers between you two weren’t there.

A groan left your lips “I need you,” you begged driving your hips upwards.

With one hand Trevor hooked his fingers in your panties pulling them down your legs as his other hand had two fingers tapping on your lips “suck.” The hockey player ordered looking at your big eyes.

Traditionally you weren’t that kind of girl in bed but when Trevor said that you had to listen “good girl,” he smirked to himself at the way your mouth took his fingers in.

That as you swirled them in your mouth like you were sucking his cock made Trevor nearly come on the spot “been thinking about this since I met you.” The hockey player confessed thrusting his fingers further into your mouth causing you to groan.

He pulled them out of your mouth when he decided that he had enough letting out a gasp as the saliva trail broke on your shirt “gonna make you feel so good.” Trevor mumbled kissing your lips as his wet fingers teased your clit.

A moan was trapped in your throat when his fingers slid into your core “you’re so fucking wet baby.” The hockey player grunted feeling your pussy clench around his fingers.

All you could do was nod “don’t stop Z,” you whined letting your head drive itself into the mattress beneath you.

Trevor smiled pecking your lips “don’t worry baby.” The grin on his face was clear “won’t leave you here.” When you didn’t respond with anything coherent Trevor realised that you were letting the pleasure get to you causing the boys fingers to increase the speed of their thrusts.

His eyes watched as your pussy swallowed his fingers “enjoying being my greedy little girl?” The ducks player asked sending his fingers into a come here motion “all for you sweets,” you moaned sliding your shirt up as you pulled your bra down letting your tits fall free.

He took the moment to lean forward and take your one breast in his mouth swirling the sensitive nub around with his tongue. You looked down at Trevor and you knew it was all over for you the moment your eyes locked in on his.

Your hand wrapped around the sheet beneath you as your face began to scrunch up “I’m coming fuck!” You chest heaved as your head fell onto his shoulder.

The post orgasmic bliss look formed on your face as his fingers fell out of your pussy “you think you can give me another one?” The boy mumbled hooking his fingers under your chin as he kissed you. Trevor pulled the shirt off his shoulders as he threw it across the room letting it land on Jack’s suitcase.

A smile formed on your face as you followed his actions “I could go all night sweets,” you shot back playfully sticking your tongue out at him as you ignored the way you felt seeing his cock come out of his boxers.

It made Trevor smirk that he knew even when he wasn’t inside of you he still had you forcing your thighs together to stop the buildup of pleasure “my needy girl huh?” Trevor’s words made you whimper as you pulled him down onto the bed.

Anticipation ran through your veins as the boys hands formed a cage around you “I wanna ride you,” the confession fell from your lips as your cheeks turned red.

There wasn’t a lot of effort from Trevor to flip you two over as your clit hit his torso “Trevor,” you moaned rubbing the sensitive nub against his chiseled abs.

Trevor’s hands reached up to grab your hips “no touching,” you shook your head pushing his hands away.

He listened wanting to see what would happen “like it when you listen.” You cooed grabbing his cock to tease your clit a few times before your sank down on his cock.

You rolled your hips against Trevor’s as your nails ran down his chest “so good,” you groaned letting your head fall back as the boys cock throbbed from inside of you.

The pleasure wasn’t enough to distract you from the sound of his bedroom door opening “Jack,” you moaned feeling Trevor’s hands grab at your waist.

Jack stood there with wide eyes as he tried to ignore the way he felt seeing how Trevor stared up at you.

He saw that your eyes hadn’t left the younger boy “you think it’s hot as he watches me fuck you?” Trevor grunted locking eyes with Jack as his hands went around to your ass where he slapped the area of skin.

It made you jump as you whimpered “answer me baby,” the boy warned reminding you what he expected of you.

Jack should have felt dirty as his hand went down under his shorts and boxers as he began to palm his aching cock “makes me feel hot,” you confessed pushing your hair out of your face as Trevor ran your nipples between his fingers.

His effort to tease your sensitive nubs made you whimper “think you should invite him then.” Trevor’s voice was raspy as your pussy clenched around him at the suggestion.

Your eyes didn’t leave Jack as his best friend continued to fuck your pussy “want to suck you off.” You mumbled letting your lips form a pout until Jack walked over to you “take it pretty girl.” Jack’s voice was soft as he leaned down to kiss you letting the grunt fall from his lips as you began palming his cock.

The Ducks player watched feeling jealousy corse through his veins watching Jack smirk into your kiss “oh fuck.” You moaned feeling Trevor’s rough thumb come to your clits attention.

Jack took the opportunity to slide his cock into your mouth “like having us both baby?” Trevor asked not letting his movements on your clit slow down.

All you could do was nod as a muffled cry from your lips was swallowed by Jack’s cock “look at our little cock drunk girl.” Jack cooed as his fingers locked into you hair forcing your throat to accommodate his cock as you tried to not gag.

The scene was hot as both boys seemed to use you for their own pleasure trying to see who could last longer than the other “you’re gonna love this pussy dude.” Trevor grunted as you squeezed his cock.

That was the first time the two had actually addressed each other “so tight like she’s never been fucked before.” He added making you whine as you stared up at Jack who didn’t let his eyes leave you.

It was clear that you were overwhelmed with pleasure when your eyes began to roll back into your head “is that it pretty girl?” Jack asked making you blink at him “are we fucking you dumb?” His second question combined with the way Trevor’s fingers focused on your clit as his cock kept on discovering new parts of your pussy.

Both boys could tell that you were close which made them let out sighs of relief when it meant that they no longer needed to worry about not outlasting you “baby we will be nice and let you come tonight.” Trevor mumbled feeling his cock throb from inside of you.

Jack watched as your face scrunched up “hear that pretty girl, you don’t even have to beg him.” Those words made Trevor regret not holding you back as it seemed to touch a jealous thought in his head making his thrusts speed up like there was no tomorrow.

Your orgasm came quickly as a cry left your lips thighs shaking as Trevor fucked you through your high. That feeling of your pussy suffocating his cock spurred his orgasm on but he tried to not think about it “right there fuck!” Jack groaned with his body sputtering as he shot his load into your mouth.

His hand wrapped around your throat “let me see your tongue pretty girl.” Jack ordered as you listened moaning when Trevor slid his cock out of you “want to see you swallow.” It would have made the middle Hughes boy come all over again as he felt his realise slide down the inside of your throat.

Trevor presence was reminded to you as you got up to feel his come ooze out of your pussy “how do you want me honey?” You asked bringing his lips down to yours.

The Devils player clicked his tongue as he let out a laugh “pretty girl thinks she is in charge now.” His pulled at your waist making you gasp “want your ass in the air.” Within no time Jack had spun you around leaving you to stare at Trevor who had also repositioned himself.

You sent Trevor a smile as you leaned down to kiss him. The soft gesture from you was quickly ruined when Jacks cock ran between your folds “you were so right about this.” Jack grunted thrusting into your pussy as he used Trevor’s come that mixed with yours as lube “been keeping this a secret from us.” He added letting his head fall forward.

The ducks player took the moment to grab your face “enjoying this baby?” He asked taking the moment to be softer to you.

You nodded feeling tears from in your eyes as Jack’s cock was slightly longer than Trevor’s “so much,” you mumbled “so big,” you added surprised that your legs were still stable.

Sounds of skin slapping echoed through the room “you wanna taste it?” Once your eyes fell to his cock that was already growing hard at the sounds of your gasps.

Your head nodded repeatedly until the boy kissed your lips “take it baby.” Trevor leaned back edging his cock closer to your face.

Jack’s fingers dug into your hips making you cry out in pleasure. It gave Trevor the opportunity to push your face down to his cock “little baby behaves so well for us.” Trevor cooed as you gurgled around his cock.

All three of you were still sensitive from your previous orgasms and despite the fact that it was a sensory overload, you still managed to force the boys cock further down your throat. Your lips were swollen from sucking on both boys cocks.

Trevor locked his hand around your hair in this makeshift ponytail as he helped guide you through the motions.

Hearing the pretty little noises fall from your lips made both boys feel content. The mini competition the boys once had to made you come first was now out of the window as they each prioritised their own orgasms.

Between Jack’s harsh snaps of his hips against yours and Trevor forcing more of his cock into your mouth the scene all together was hot.

Jack slipped his hand over your hips as it rested on your clit, fingers drawing circles on the sensitive nub. Your nose hit Trevor’s torso as your eyes shot open in surprise.

It didn’t take Trevor long to pull you off of his cock with his hands cupping your cheeks “so fucking pretty baby.” The boy grunted kissing your lips as your hand replaced what your mouth once did.

The hockey players couldn’t decide what position they preferred more “I’m gonna come!” You groaned having your hand speed up around his cock.

Jack didn’t seem to like that announcement as he shook his head “want to hear you beg for it baby.” He murmured not letting his fingers movements calm down on your clit.

A cry left your lips “please Jack,” you whined feeing his hips hit yours. The boy didn’t let up “I’ll be so good for you both.” You gasped hoping sending Trevor a pleasing look as you hoped he would help you out.

When he remained silent you let your mouth replace your hand having your tongue swirl around his cock as you hoped it would help your cause “give her what she wants J,” Trevor grunted as you tried to suck the life out of him.

The devils player decides to listen as he nodded “go on pretty girl.” Jack slapped your clit causing a long moan to fall from your lips as you came spurring on boys orgasms.

Your body shook when the younger boy’s load shot deep inside of you “there we go baby,” Trevor cooed stopping your head as his orgasm washed over him making sure that not a drop of his release left your mouth.

Jack knew it was fucked up but as he let his soft cock fall from your pussy the devils player couldn’t help but stare at the sight of his brothers best friend all fucked out by none other than Luke’s brother and his friend.

The air in the boys bedroom was warm as Jack placed you on the bed giving you a moment to recover “ayo Trev you gotta see this!” Alex called out as the two oldest boys walked into the house.

Trevor clearly looked annoyed “it’s okay, I got her from here.” Jacks quick interception had the Ducks player roll his eyes “see you later Z.” You mumbled your words softly blinking at him.

When you didn’t dispute what Jack said it irritated the older boy “night baby,” Trevor mumbled kissing your forehead before he quickly got changed “I’ll be down in a sec!” He yelled back downstairs.

This was the first time you were left with Jack and before either one of you could talk your phone went off.

Pookie 🤪: I’m not coming home tonight

Pookie 🤪: this girl thinks I’m a catch??

Pookie 🤪: hope your night is as fun as mine!

A laugh left your lips as flipped your phone around to show the boy his brothers messages “let’s get you in cleaned up then.” Jack proposed picking you up as your were in dire need of a bathe before you let slumber consume you.

The middle Hughes boy set you in the shower to clean you off before he got you into your bed “you okay pretty girl?” Jack asked smiling at the sight of you in his devils training camp shirt.

You nodded letting out a yawn “I’m good honey,” the hockey player pressed a kiss to your forehead watching you nestle your head into your pillow.

Jack sat next to you massaging your cheek with his thumb “I’m gonna let you sleep.” He mumbled seeing that your eyes were growing heavy.

A little thumbs up that you sent him made the boy laugh “tonight was nice,” you announced watching him make his way to your door.

He chewed at the inside of his cheek, Jack wanted you to himself and not as something that he had to share with Trevor.

All Jack knew was that the rest of this week and how the summer played out spending the time with you was going to be interesting.

#trevor zegras oneshot #trevor zegras imagines #trevor zegras smut #trevor zegras x reader #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes x y/n #jack hughes imagine #jack hughes one shot #jack hughes smut #oneshots #imagines #hockey imagine #hockey imagines #nhl imagine #nhl oneshot #hockey smut #nhl smut #amber writes fics

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jellys-compendium · 4 months

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A Night to Remember

A Trigun Stampede One Year Anniversary Celebration Drabble

Rating: M

Summary: You, Vash and the gang go out to celebrate your one year anniversary. Unfortunately for you and Vash, the night ends at an unexpected lodging. The jailhouse. Pairing: Vash x gn!Reader Cw: fluff, drinking, tipsy Vash & reader, mentions of violence, some suggestive themes Word Count: ~940 A/n: I know I am taking a break from writing Trigun, but it didn't seem right to not post a little something to honor the one year anniversary for Trigun Stampede. Thank you Studio Orange for reviving this series. Trigun (and Vash) will always hold a special place in my heart. 💖

The closing click of the fortified restraints that are wrapped around your lover’s wrists rings through the jail with finality. Your heart sinks into your stomach as you watch—completely powerless— from the adjacent jail cell.

“Do you really have to do that Sheriff?” You whine, face pressing against the bars separating you from your lover.

“Vash didn’t start that fight. He stopped people from getting hurt, you know!”

A drunken little hiccup escapes the sheriff as he wavers on his feet, trying his best to get his key into the lock dangling around Vash’s wrists. A charming drunken smile spreads across Vash’s handsome face as he brings his hands closer to the Sheriff, and helps steady the drunken man.

“Th-hic-there you go pal.”

“Thanks, Vash.” Comes the Sheriff's sloppy and slurred response.

You roll your eyes, heaving a heavy sign through the cold iron bars.

Unbelievable.

The night had started out so well. You, Vash, Meryl, Roberto, and Wolfwood had all been celebrating the one year anniversary of your meeting at the local saloon of the town. Your group basked in some well deserved merriment, indulging in food, drink, and the warm company of one another.

The original plan had been to drink with the gang, fill your bellies with food and laughter, and then take Vash back to your room for a little private celebration.

What happened instead was sadly not that.

Vash had unfortunately been recognized by a band of bounty hunters who incidentally also had light pockets. Your tipsy lover had done his best to deny who he was and calm and redirect the men, but they were having none of it.

What started as night of laughter and friendly company turned into a drunken brawl. Fists flying, bottles shattering, turned over tables and chairs. And within two minutes flat, the entire bar had burst into an eyesore of unrestrained, buzzed testosterone.

Roberto and Meryl had held their own perfectly, keeping the drunken and grubby hands of the locals off of them. Wolfwood had groaned, rolling his eyes as he had planned to just sit this one out. Unfortunately for the preacher, one enormous, inebriated man came at him with his fists flying and gave the grouchy undertaker little choice.

Vash on the other hand, worked on simultaneously disarming every single person packing in the place, all the while playing keep away with you. You remember him moving you this way and that, dancing around swinging fists and deflecting thrown bottles as he kept your tipsy self out of harm's way.

“It wouldn’t be our one year anniversary without a drunken brawl, right mayfly?”

Geez, wasn’t that the truth?

A soft smile spreads across your lips. Life has never been the same since you met Vash the Stampede. He truly is the humanoid typhoon—a sandsteamer’s load of trouble—and you wouldn’t change him for the world.

“There ya go buddy.” The sheriff hiccups as he secures the chains around Vash’s wrists and then claps him affectionately on the back.

“I’ll let you and your bug friend go in the morning, alright? Goodnight you two. Sleep tight!”

Vash gives the man a huge drunken grin, and you silently watch as the Sheriff stumbles out of the jail cell, nearly falling flat on his face before he makes it to the door.

The moment the door clicks shut, Vash exhales a drunken little chuckle and then his blue eyes fall on you—all sweetness and cherry pie.

“He’s grown up to be such a nice man. I met him when he was only up to my knees, ya know.”

You smile, shaking your head at your boyfriend. Vash is such an affectionate and sentimental drunk—wearing his heart on his sleeve even more so when he’s in this state. He’s so friggin’ adorable, you want nothing more than to slip through the bars and head on over and shower him in kisses and cuddles.

Sadly, it looks like you’re going to have to wait until morning to do that.

Unless…

“Vash,” You sweetly call, extending your arms through the bars and coaxing him to you with a wiggle of your fingers.

“Come ‘ere, angel.”

Vash’s smile spreads from ear to ear as he slowly makes his way towards you. You giggle as he stumbles a bit before reaching your warm embrace. You do the best you can to pull him close and hug him through the iron bars of both of your cells.

“M’sorry.” Vash sighs, fingers reaching out to gently brush against your warm cheek. “I know this isn’t the most romantic spot to spend our one year anniversary.”

Your hands soothingly caress his arms with what little mobility they have, and as you look up and meet Vash’s tender gaze, the love that swells in your heart makes you feel fuller and happier than you’ve ever felt in your life.

“That doesn’t matter, Vash. As long as we’re together—as long as I’m by your side— I’ll be the happiest little bug on this desert planet.”

The humanoid typhoon smiles so brightly, and the rarest, most genuine little laugh falls from his lips.

“Then let’s treasure every last second we have.”

Leaning forward, the two of you try to kiss through the bars. Unfortunately however, those dreaded obstacles separate your bodies too far apart, leaving you and Vash looking utterly ridiculous as you both strain towards one another in vain—all extended puckered lips.

Eventually, the both of you give up, electing to press kisses to your fingertips and brush them across each other’s lips instead.

And as your shared laughter echoes through the empty jailhouse, you realize that despite your plans going south, this will be a night that you’ll always remember fondly.

divider source

#happy one year trigun stampede! <3 #trigun #trigun stampede #vash the stampede #vash x reader #vash x you #trigun fanfiction #trigun x reader #jellywrites

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eldhuug · 9 months

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the deeper i’m getting into the book about the myths and reality of the cowboy, It truly is interesting to hear the distinction of the poor workingclass man who spent such lonley long times tending to stock so dilligently, compared to the figure that does not even need to know the sound of a stampede to have the folkheros title bestowed upon him. in a way, the title of “cowboy” is in and of itself a protected one, there cannot be a cowboy if you remove his cow, it is intrinsic to his origin but now removed from his existance. and while mythology does not require fact, part of me does feel a longing for the brief period of history where the cattle really was what they were about. i see little point in arguing that the title of cowboy is one that doesnt fit the men who wear their hats and boots, the truth of them is already so far fremoved from their work that the cowboy hats really do make them the men. yet the lone figure on the prairie had his transcient home there due to his work, to move with the herd, to keep them safe with all the skills he had honed throughout little life. and I would love to see the cow returned to her handler in his depictions, to return the love held for stock and the pride in the skills the cowboy honed in the art made of him.

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venusscriptures · 1 year

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he’s so cute i gotta write a little..teeheeeee …

17+!! warnings: somnophilia, drunk-ish sex (he’s faking being drunk-stupid so idk what to call it), plant-like genitalia (saw a post about his dick being in a slit, and he had TWO!! and hc about a scent he gives off when in heat and i got a little too..creative *grins*), nipple play (can you guys tell i like big pecs and men’s nipples!!), and almost getting caught, head/ oral (character receiving) and Gender neutral reader. sub vash + dom gunman (gun person?) reader.

AN: part two has been posted!

You had been traveling with Vash for a while now, joining his adventures after he had saved your ass from becoming swiss cheese by a couple of gang members that thought you were an easy target.

After that little incident, you paid him back by patching him up and helping him heal his injuries (although you didn’t need to do much, it seemed like they were already half healed by the time you had gotten the gauze).

However much you stick around, he tries to slip away so many times, it’s become a cycle. He gets into a fight, you help, he feels guilty and runs off, you find him and it repeats. No matter how many times you try to stick it through to him, he never truly believes that you’d want to stick around for the man who’s is famously called a ‘stampede’.

You had become friends with Meryl, Milly and Nicholas, joining the group as an extra set of hands for anything, you had a knack of learning things quickly, and you could easily defend yourself. Vash however, felt that he’d be endangering you, despite your strength and smarts, but he relented after you picked up a gun.

Tonight was another night alive after helping a town escape a tyrannical gang, so it was a night to celebrate. As you guys were served pint after pint, the group, including Meryl surprisingly, had become deliriously drunk, which had you herding them upstairs after Wolfwood started to argue with the patrons.

Turns out, Meryl had booked three rooms, two doubles and one single. Planning to take the single for yourself to save from having to deal with the aftercare of these drunks throwing up all over you or your bed.

The elevator pinged at the third floor, signaling your exit. After successfully dragging Vash out, you heard the click of two doors closing.

The single and a double.

Fuck.

That left your plan soiled, seeing as you had certain disastrous noodle haired man slumped against you, mumbling something about a favorite circular pastry of his.

Sighing, you unlocked the double bed room, only to find a room with a single XL twin bed in the corner, your head about to combust with how exhausted you were.

You pulled him in, looking around the room for a place to rest. He sat down on the bed, watching you with a drunken stupor and hazed eyes, take off your coat and roll up your sleeves, hoping that he didn’t require as much help or watch as Milly.

“..take….bed….” He mumbled.

You didn’t quite catch what he said, so you leaned in closer, taking off his glasses and folding them, placing them on the desk next to the bed.

“I didn’t hear that, what did you say?”

You grabbed the pitcher and poured him a cup of water, pressing it against his lips and tilting his chin up, encouraging him to drink before he spoke.

He kept his eyes on you the whole time, greedily gulping down the water.

Once he finished the class, you set it down onto the desk, sitting next to him.

“I said..you can take the bed, ‘n’ i’ll…i’ll find something..”

Furrowing your eyebrows, you shook your head and frowned, folding your arms over your chest as he smiled.

“Absolutely not, you’re drunk and the last thing i want is you wandering off into the city and something happening to you! You rest, i’ll watch you so you don’t suffocate on your own vomit.”

You ended up sharing the bed, and now was staring at the ceiling, a loose white shirt and your biker shorts on, Vash’s long limbs thrown over your body as the futile attempt at making a border was destroyed by him.

As much as you loved him -platonically you assured yourself - he was a tall man and took that space up, leaving you within his grasp as he wrapped himself around your body, his thigh thrown over yours, and his arms holding you close to his chest, his head resting on top of your chest.

After god knows how long you had been laying there, listening to his deep breaths and murmurings, you heard a small whimper from him, a sweet smell coming from him.

You couldn’t pinpoint what it was, but it smelled like a sweet syrup, or a yummy fruity cocktail, it’s honey like scent intriguing you.

Another whimper, yet this time his thigh tightened and his hips twitched forward, slightly grinding on you, the sweet scent growing stronger, making you slightly confused but curious.

Looking down at his face, you saw his eyebrows furrow together, his face otherwise peaceful. Chalking it up to the alcohol, you settle back into your pillow and close your eyes before you hear him moan your name softly, continuing to grind against your thigh, yet this time you felt a small mound press against the muscle, feeling the wetness slowly soak his underwear and your thigh, making you feel flustered.

“Vash…” You looked down and saw him squirming, hiding his face into your chest, his hand clutching the cloth.

He shivered and grinded against you once more, his slit dripping with arousal. You brushed his loose hair back, your thigh now throughly soaked. Testing the waters, you flexed your thigh and raised it slightly, earning a gasp and moan from Vash, his brows turning upwards as he settled into your thigh, now mumbling something about feeling nice and your name.

You were extremely horny right now, his actions and words driving you up the wall, with that sickly sweet scent stronger than ever. You slid your hand down to his waistband, your fingers slipping under them and finding the source of that slick sensation and sweet smell. You felt around, confused at the lack of an appendage but found a funny feeling slit. You pressed your fingers against it lightly and he shuddered. Jackpot.

Now in an unexplainable haze, you took your fingers and slid them into your mouth, the taste of his wetness sending shivers down your body, raising the heat between your legs. If this is how you felt just by tasting him, you couldn’t imagine how he felt right now.

After you managed to slip out of his grasp, you took off his boxers, softly gasping at the pretty sight before you: Vash on his back, his legs and arms sprawled out as his hair looked like a halo around his head, his chest rising and falling. But what especially caught your eye was the blue-toned slit between his thighs, leaking a sort of pinkish looking thick fluid, the source of that sweet smell that drove you so crazy.

Leaning down to lick it, you pressed your tongue against the whole slit first, his body jerking and he somehow still rested. Deciding to go further, you wrapped your arms around his thighs, laid onto your stomach and proceeded to lick, slurp and dip into his hole, his whines and whimpers growing by the second.

You heard him move around slightly, and looked up to see Vash staring back down at you, a desperate look in his eyes and he gasped and sighed with every poke and prod you made with your tongue. Feeling his hands slide into your hair, you continued to slurp all the leaky fluid from him, growing hungry for more of him. As you dipped your tongue slightly in, you were met with two appendages slowly coming out of his slit, their tips glowing with a bio-luminescent light, his legs twitching and shivering as they now stood tall in the night air.

Testing it, you licked the underside of one, a yelp coming from his mouth. Grinning, you watched it squirm by itself, the appendages shaped sort of like a tentacle, except girthier and rounded more at the tip. And it has a tip.

You stuck your tongue out, holding it against his squirming dicks and he let out a moan, his voice rising another octave. As if they had a mind of their own, they twisted and moved against your tongue, sliding up and down your mouth as his hips trembled and bucked, his head thrown back as he shivered and shook, cumming into your mouth as his orgasm ran through him, goosebumps covering his body.

Sucking off all you could, a knock at the door scared both of you out of our lustful hazes.

“Hey..,[F/N], Milly threw up…could you come help please?” Meryl’s voice rang through the door.

Sighing and sitting back in your knees, disappointed that you couldn’t keep eating him out, you responded.

“Yeah, I’ll be there in a minute, give me a sec.”

Leaning over a bright red Vash, you gripped his hip with one hand and kissed him, your mouth covered in the taste of his cum.

“I wanna continue this another time, okay pretty?” You softly said to him, brushing back his hair from his sweaty forehead. He looked up at you like you hung the stars and nodded, tugging down at your shirt.

You gave him another kiss, this time deep. Breaking away, you planted some kisses against his neck and stood up, fixing yourself in the mirror.

“I’ll be right back”

He stares at the door after you closed it behind yourself, bewildered at the past 30 minutes.

He couldn’t wait to get “drunk” again.

#vash #vash my lovely #vash the stampede #sub vash #trigun stampede #trigun maximum #trigun #vash imagines

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uhhhitsgray · 1 year

Text

More Than Meets the Eye

This was supposed to be a short little vash stampede x reader drabble, but the fic started writing me and it's now turned into a short (?) little story. I have no idea, there will be more than just this chapter!

Warnings: 18 + themes, lots of cussing this chapter, kind of dangerous and violent. reader uses a gun for self defense purposes and we're a badass and take care of ourselves and vash

If any other tags should be added, let me know. Warnings are a bit all over the place for this chapter.

↳ Table of Contents ↳ Chapter Ⅱ: A Box of Doughnuts

Chapter Ⅰ: Name's Vash

Life for Vash was never easy. With the nickname “Humanoid Typhoon” bad luck seemed to follow him everywhere he went.

If it wasn’t bad luck, it was all the looks people gave him when he wandered from town to town. How could all these people know who he was? Truly know him enough to judge him just by a name.

Finding peace and comfort was so out of Vash’s wheelhouse of emotions at this point that when anything was going right, he couldn’t help but dread the day everything would come crashing down. But the dreadful feeling that filled his stomach wasn’t for no reason. Anytime he was happy, the nature of the nickname “Humanoid Typhoon” would happen, everything he loved would be destroyed. His homes, his blooming happiness and the people he loved - all gone in a blink of an eye. He’s lost too much.

That’s why when he stumbled into your bar late one evening covered in blood and bruises asking for help he figured this interaction would be no different.

It was late, almost 2 am and your bar was empty as you hummed to yourself cleaning up for the night. Little drops of rain could be heard hitting the windows, a sound that could almost lull you to sleep.

The peaceful sound was loudly interrupted when you heard a loud thud coming from the entrance of your bar. “What the hell was that?!” You toss your damp towel down making your way to the door.

As you round the corner to the door you see him there, sliding down the wall as a bloody hand covers his abdomen. He was hard to not recognize, the contrast of his blonde and black hair, and the bright red jacket.

The humanoid typhoon had stumbled into your bar.

“Can you - fuck,” He bent over in pain, a strained groan leaving his mouth.

“Oh fuck, shit!” You bent down next to him, holding pressure over his hand that was covering an assumed wound. Your eyes flung to the door as you hear the faint sound of men yelling through the streets probably looking for him.

“Can you move if I help you?” Your eyes found his. He looked tired, in pain, like he was screaming for help without saying a word.

His eyes softened at your question as he nodded his head. “Awesome, let’s go.” You waste no time pulling his arm over your shoulder, grabbing onto his wrist to help him stand, your other hand wrapping around his waist - careful to not squeeze too close to his wound.

“Let’s go around this corner into the kitchen.” You pull his arm over your shoulder more so you could bear more of his weight as he’s struggling to walk. “My office is in the back, I’m going to set you down there and make sure no one is following us.” You look to your left at him, his head hanging low, feet stumbling across the floor, his skin paler than it was just a few seconds ago.

“Hey, come on.” You gently push your shoulder up into his armpit to try to get some type of reaction from him. “Blondie, come on. Don’t fucking die on me.” You staggered a few more steps into your office, as you set him down on the floor kneeling next to him. “Stay with me, okay?” His head slumps to the side a bit, eyes barely open. “Shit,” you grab his face in your hand, your thumb rubbing his cheek. “Hey, stay with me. I’ll be right back, okay?”

You gently let go of his face, as you begin to walk away his hand reaches up grabbing yours. “I’ll be right back, okay? I wanna make sure we’re safe. I’m going to close this door, okay? I’ll be right back, Blondie.” You squeeze his hand, “You’re safe here.”

You close your office door, your mind goes into overdrive with a billion things racing around.

Why’s the humanoid typhoon in my bar?

How’d he get here?

Why is he all bloody and bruised?

You shake your head.

No, it doesn’t matter. We’re going to help him. It’s fine, totally fine.

You nod to yourself as you jog back out to the front of the bar, grabbing the damp towel and walking towards the door. Luckily, he didn’t bleed much over your floor, just a few drops you quickly wipe up before the front door flies open.

In comes three men, three dangerous looking men. The first that walked through the door looked like he had just been in a fight, his knuckles were busted and bleeding. His left eye was purple and blue, and his lip was swollen.

The second man wasn’t much better looking, rocking the same damages without the busted eye. His curly hair was short, and stuck to his forehead with sweat and something darker that looked like blood.

The third man that trailed in looked pretty damage free compared to the other two, just a busted lip. His shirt was ripped, and had a mixture of what you assumed to be blood and dirt on it.

The fuck is this? Some gang type shit? We got knuckles, curly q and t-shirt - got it.

“Where is he?!” Knuckles yells. As he takes a step forward you get a better look at him, he’s got a pistol strapped to his thigh and a knife on his belt.

You take a deep breath, swallowing down the terror that filled your body. “Where’s who?” You dumbly asked, a confused look on your face.

“Him.” Knuckles said sternly as his hand rested on the grip of his pistol.

You deadpan and shrug your shoulders, acting as if you didn’t have a care in the world. “Who’s him? Him could be a lot of people.”

Curly q takes a step forward, raising his hand and slapping you across your cheek. You stumble back into the wall, falling to the floor wincing in pain. “Ow, asshole.” Your eyes catch a glimpse of your metal bat under the bar counter tucked away out of sight from the standing men.

Knuckles stepped forward, the tip of his boot hitting your knees looking down to you. “I won’t fucking ask again. Where the fuck is he?!” You shied away from his screaming, moving a little closer to the bat. You looked up at him, anger flashed across his features.

“Who the fuck is he?! How am I supposed to know who that is if you don’t tell me!” You yell back, moving just a bit more. “No one’s been in here all evening! I was just trying to close and you assholes come barging in asking where ‘he’ is.” Making air quotes around he, you needed to keep wasting time, the bat was so close - just a bit out of reach.

Knuckles grumbles above you, reaching for his back pocket to pull out a picture of who they kept referring to as ‘him’.

Morons, how hard was it to just say the humanoid typhoon?

With the paper shoved in your face and his dirty finger pointing at the picture he yells, “Him! The fucking typhoon, we saw him run in here.”

You laugh, leaning to the side, fingers finding the handle of the bat. “No one’s come into my bar. Now get the fuck out so I can close.”

“You’re starting to piss me off, where is he!” Knuckles leans down, and once he was eye level with you, you swung the bat and you swung it hard. The bat makes contact with his head, as he falls to the floor, blood oozing from the contact point. His pistol falls from it’s strap, sliding towards you, as you quickly grab it aiming it curly q and t-shirt.

You slowly stand up, kicking the bat behind you out of all of their reach. “Now get the fuck out.” You point the gun between the two left standing.

“Woah, come on little lady.” T-shirt puts his hands up, taking a slow step forward. You release the safety on the gun, pulling the slide back to confirm a bullet is ready.

“I’ll tell you one more time. If you take another step forward I’ll fucking shoot.” Your finger moves over to wrap around the trigger, ready to shoot at any moment. “Get the hell out while you can still walk!”

Curly q takes a slow step forward, “We know he’s here.”

“Don’t!” You shoot into the wooden floor next to him. They look at each other seeming unfazed by your warning shot.

“We just want to take him, and we’ll be out of your hair.” T-shirt steps forward again, you aim the pistol down and shoot straight through his knee. “Fucking bitch!” He falls to the floor holding his knee, groaning in agony.

Your eyes shift to curly q whose face is paler than Casper the ghost. “Take these two,” you kick the groaning man next to you who took the bat to the head. “And leave. If I ever see you step foot in here again, you’ll be six feet under.” Curly q nods his head frantically as he reaches for knuckles first, you kneel down meeting him at his level. When his eyes meet yours, you push the tip of the pistol into his temple, “Do I make myself clear?”

He nods his head, “Yes, yes.”

“Good.” You stand up and keep a watchful eye as he gathers up his two friends and makes it out of your bar. T-shirt hobbles out, blood dripping down his leg and onto your floors. Curly q is holding knuckles up as he drags him out of the bar, barely conscious. Once out of the bar you slam the door behind them, locking it before you turn back to rush to your office.

You swing open the office door, and find the blonde sitting on your office chair, jacket off, shirt pulled up just enough to expose his cut he was holding earlier. You look up to your open cabinet over your desk, it’s where you’d normally have your first aid kit but it’s open on your desk as he tries to dress his wound.

“Hey I can help you, hang on.” You rush over to his side, removing his hand and gauze that he was holding. Your eyes widened at the wound, it was deep, like possibly needing stitches deep. It was still bleeding a bit, but nothing like earlier.

“Don’t. It’s fine, I got it.” He pulls his hand away from your grip, applying the pressure to his wound as he looks through the first aid kit.

You scoff at him as you pull the first aid kit away, “You’re in no condition to do this yourself, you looked like you were about to pass out a few minutes ago. Let me at least help you.”

The blonde breathes out behind you, probably too sore and tired to fight back with you. “Are you okay?” He mumbles out behind you, slightly wincing from the pain. “I heard gunshots and yelling.”

You turn around with some medical cleaning supplies for his wound in hand, and a crooked smile on your face. “Shouldn’t I be asking you that? I’m here aren’t I? I’m fine.”

His blue irises find yours as he searches your face, a look of sadness spreads across his already tired expression. He leans his head back on the wall, his arms falling to his sides. “Did they do that to you?”

You pause, reaching up to your cheek, squinting your eye at the stinging pain. “Can you hold your shirt up so I can clean your cut?” You kneel down next to his leg, ignoring his question.

He nods his head and reaches up, long fingers grab at the fabric of his shirt exposing his stomach. From just this little peak of his body you could tell he’s been through hell. How long has he been on the run? Who’s done this to him? He’s covered in scars, new bruises and old ones. Now this wound will add to the scars.

“I’m sorry.” He sighed, running his free hand through his hair. “I’m sorry they did that to you.” Your eyes stayed focused on his cut, carefully cleaning it with the damp gauze. “It’s fine, I’m fine. They’re gone, and I doubt they’ll come back.”

“Wh - what do you mean?”

You ignore his question again, the only thing on your mind is taking care of him. But not here, not in your office - it’s uncomfortable, small and you need other supplies that are at your house. “Can I take you back to my place?” You blurt out.

He cocks an eyebrow to you, “Little fast paced, aren’t you?” He smiles.

You smile back, shaking your head. “No, not in that way, Blondie. I’ve got more medical supplies at my place, and it’ll be more comfortable.”

His eyes move to the floor, “It’s fine, this should be enough. I’ve already caused enough trouble for you.”

“It’s nothing I haven’t done before, I’m fine. You’re not on the other hand, so let’s go Blondie.” You close up your first aid kid, putting it back on the shelf.

He weakly stands up, grabbing his coat. “Name’s Vash.”

#vash stampede #trigun vash #trigun stampede #trigun #vash x you #vash x reader #vash is actually a cutie and deservers happiness #trigun fanfiction

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tenabrye · 1 year

Note

Can you do proposing request for stampede Vash and Nicholas? You’re truly a god send for writing for them 😭❤️

It warms my heart that you think so. 🥹

Vash

Despite the danger that's always there to greet him around every single corner on this planet, he still has the idea of marriage swirling around in his mind. Perhaps not at the forefront, nor the very back, but it's definitely active in the middle. There were always just two tiny issues with such an idea. Firstly, he needed someone for it. Someone he could understand and who would do the same for him, someone to love and who would love him back, someone he would lay down his life for and hope that they wouldn't do the same, because as much as he loves them, it would pain him too much to see them get hurt or even die for him. The second issue was his entire aging situation. Humans don't live long, he knows that, and no human could ever live as long as he could. Knowing such a thing has, in a way, kept the idea of marriage where it's at in his head. He both loves the idea, yet is also very, very scared because he knows what would happen and he doesn't think he'll ever be ready for when it does.

Then you came along. He was IMMEDIATELY smitten. How could he not be? Such a sweet smile, an infectious laugh, and it was like you understood him as though you knew him your entire life. You were the light in his life, the one he was truly able to be comfortable with, the first one to ever see his scars, and the first one whom he believed he could spend his life with. That is, if you would have him, but this resulted in him plotting, and scheming, trying to figure out a way on how to even ask such a question to you. It was two and a half years that you've known one another. Was that a long enough time before asking for your hand in marriage? He's seen couples elope after just two days of knowing one another, so perhaps his timing was a little late, but he was cautious.

This man knows nothing about the actual concept of marriage, but he's seen other men propose and he thinks he has an understanding on how he should do it. He thinks. He inquires about it with Roberto, who recalls certain times he's heard the men back at his office talk about how they proposed. It helped Vash to a degree, but he felt like he was still missing something. Inquiring about it to Wolfwood also seemed like a good idea, but all the advice that was given was, "It doesn't have to be over the top, Needle-noggin, and you don't need any ideas on how to do it. It comes naturally." Vash hadn't thought about it, but the man was right. Perhaps he should just let the thoughts come naturally rather than wracking his brain on how to plan it out. He doesn't have much when it comes to double dollars, but he figures that a flashy ring might be considered over the top, as Wolfwood said before.

Vash does set the moment, though. Makes sure it's romantic enough for the question he's about to ask. He's nervous for sure, but the reassuring touch of your hand intertwining with his as he leads you to the rooftop is enough to calm his nerves. He tried his best with sprucing everything up for you, lips curling upwards when he catches that smile of yours, and how it makes it heart flutter. Only when you lock eyes with him does he get nervous, again, causing him to close his eyes and softly inhale. You question the way he's acting, knowing that he hasn't been himself for the past couple of days, to which he smiles, saying how there's a reason for that. He takes your other hand with his cybernetic one, the thumb tracing small circles on the back of your hand. He stares down at you, eyes half-lidden and clouded with adoration as the smile on his face broadens ever so slightly. You can't help but chuckle at how adorable he looks right now, only to widen your eyes when he takes a knee, his hands still holding yours.

"Ever since I first laid eyes on you, I knew you were the one for me. No matter what I go through, no matter how down I get, you're always there to pick me back up, and I can't be thankful enough for that. I've thought long and hard about this, but I know I want you in my life, forever. I never consider myself lucky until you came along. So, will you make me the luckiest man by marrying me?"

Wolfwood

Marriage was something he didn't think much of at first, considering his occupation, however, meeting you has caused him to dwell on the topic for quite a while. More than he would like to admit. He never considered himself as much of the marrying type in the beginning, but he has changed a bit over the time he's travelled alongside you, the two of you becoming an item not long after a near-death moment. He knows you've entertained the thought of marriage, and he can't deny that he'd like seeing you all dressed up like that. The man also can't deny the fear that comes with it. Well, the fear of what might happen to you if you marry a man like him.

His business often ends up with a few bodies here and there, and while he never leaves any survivors, sometimes, those that do somehow make it out alive may come back for revenge. The man doesn't want you on the receiving end of it, however, at the same time, he's made up his mind to marry you. Slapping a ring on your finger could also ensure your safety, as well as letting anyone that sees it know that you're his spouse. He likes the sound of that latter part. Now, all that's left it to plan the entire thing. Does he want it to be lavish? Simple? He knows he wants the scene to be romantic, but he just can't quite figure out the missing piece to tie it all together.

He is very discreet when it comes to asking you certain questions that will help him with the proposal. Very discreet, but now he has the information he needs when getting everything ready. Nicolas surprises himself with how much effort he's put into this, but it's also what he wants, considering this effort will show how much he desires to be with you for the rest of his life. His entire plan consists of having a date that includes doing whatever your heart desires, followed by a special surprise from him at the end. You're absolutely giddy when he tells you why tonight is special, obviously not including the proposal part, but still, he can see you can't wait for later. Neither can he.

Nicholas is nervous the closer his surprise gets the more the night carries on. He shouldn't be nervous, really, but he can't help it. Starts thinking about the chances of you declining his proposal and it stays on his mind the remainder of the date. It's very difficult to not notice the strange way he's been acting the last few hours before your big surprise, and you want to know why. Asking about it gets you nowhere since he tells you not to worry, that nothing is wrong, but you can see that something is. That's when he decides to fuck it and do it right here right now. His cigarette has been removed, flicked to the ground and crushed by his heel. He then takes your left hand with his, getting down on one knee as the other hand fishes in his pocket for the small box. You can't help but stare at him, eyes wide in shock.

"I never thought I'd get the chance to do something like this, but then you came along and changed that entirely. You are the best thing to ever happen in my life, y'know, and I don't think I could ever live a single day without you. I want to live my entire life with you at my side, so please, will you marry me?"

#trigun stampede #trigun #nicolas d wolfwood #trigun stampede vash #trigun stampede wolfwood #vash the stampede #trigun wolfwood #trigun vash #vash x reader #wolfwood x reader #vash x you #wolfwood x you

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nanomooselet · 3 months

Text

Little but Fierce VII

Update: Okay, computer had the fear of me put into it and the pictures have been added.

I confess to some confusion over complaints Legato's significance was reduced in Stampede. We're still not even halfway through the story. The '98 adaptation hinged almost entirely upon Legato, and the manga had him as Vash's greatest ideological opponent. He's the best argument Knives made for wiping out humanity: a human who'd been so cruelly abused he viewed all who failed to help him as complicit and deserving of death.

In my opinion, Legato's had his turn in the spotlight, since with Knives not confined to a lightbulb he can be a direct and present threat in a way he couldn't be before. Now it's time for someone else to play the foil.

Meryl's learned everything she needs to learn and seen all she needs to see. It's time for her final exam. First up, Zazie.

Only nominally allied with Knives, Zazie occupies the role Meryl herself seeks: observer, witness, knower of the truth, bestower of judgement. They extend the privilege of that role to Meryl - she is a representative for humanity as Zazie speaks for the Worms. Having already discussed Zazie's interest in Meryl at some length, I'll move on, and pause only to note that it testifies how far Meryl's come that Zazie doesn't completely freak her the hell out.

She passes the test: along with being ignorant of the fate of Earth, she believes that humankind can and must change. Luida showed her a means to do so. It may not be enough for Zazie to fully trust humanity, but it's a reason not to fully trust Knives. The conversation will continue.

Second, Dr. Conrad.

He's a foil more for Roberto. The extreme end of the cynical mindset that Roberto tends to espouse - that cruelty is only to be expected on a world this cruel and cannot be changed. But where Roberto advises remaining uninvolved, Dr. Conrad finds it justification for cruelty in turn.

This test, too, Meryl passes; Roberto, inspired by her determination and conviction, successfully overcomes his own cynicism and mistrust, as well as over a century of accrued rationalisations, and manages to shake Conrad's faith, his judgement cutting him to the quick. It's a relatively subdued form of defeat, but, well, neither of these men are going to be engaging in high-powered gun fights. And so we move on to the final test...

Ah, she'll do nicely.

Yes, I understand dislike for the alteration to Elendira's backstory in Stampede (albeit I do wonder whether it relates to whatever Nightow had in mind for her in Maximum, even if I can't explain what makes me think it does. Just that I do). Otherwise I wouldn't have written what I did speculating how she'll develop beyond it. However, just as with Milly's absence and Roberto's presence, I think I see the way she serves Meryl's development into the woman she becomes.

Just as Vash will have to face and defeat his shadow in his brother before he can truly claim his identity, Meryl must face her own in Elendira. Small, femme, viewed as a child (to her annoyance) but a physically developed adult, accompanied everywhere by an older teacher who assumes responsibility for her. And a lot of the other implications and symbolism surrounding El are... I believe the technical term is "yikes".

It's easy to tell that in Meryl, Vash sees Rem - dark-haired, compassionate, strong sense of responsibility. She isn't Rem, because no one can be (arguably Rem herself couldn't live up to what she became to him, which is not her fault). But in Meryl Rem's spirit survives, just as in the rest of humanity; the living reason he follows his ideals, and a reason to live.

What may be a little harder to realise is that Knives is also inspired by a feminine figure elevated near to sainthood in his eyes. But it isn't Rem he believes himself inspired by, except in the sense that he loathes her.

It's Tesla. Where Vash is determined to take on the responsibility that his mother entrusted to him, Knives wants the power both to take vengeance for and to protect his sister.

It's important that he never actually knew Tesla, nor is she capable of conveying her wishes to him, just like the dependent Plants. He only assumes she must have been helpless and weak before human brutality, just as Vash is weak, and his brethren. So it's up to Knives, the big brother, to remove that weakness - he is, after all, their representative. Their blade.

And thus he allowed the creation of Elendira. Not exactly a human, but not entirely a Plant. Childishly vindictive, impulsively violent, filled with a deep loathing of humanity, needing nothing and no one - just like Knives himself wishes to be, and thus what Knives wants to believe would be true of Tesla. She would surely approve of all he's done for her. And she's absolutely loyal to him, and rejects Vash. Knives is her lord. She is proud to serve only him.

Here we have someone who refuses Meryl's judgement of her, the assumption of superiority it carries. Who are you to pity me? She also doesn't care to be disciplined by her teacher. Dr. Conrad tells her to stop and she shouts that he be silent and continues advancing.

On top of that… there's a sense of creepy, creepy suggestiveness around El. When she bursts out of the tank, she's nude, and unconcerned with being so. She is no less a threat in this state than she would be clothed. It reminds me of Knives during Fifth Moon in the original manga. Along with the way she behaved in other scenes, like when speaking with Rollo; she, uh, licks the tip of her finger. I'm not imagining the lasciviousness in that gesture, am I?

Meryl's demonstrated that she's intimidated by this aspect of adulthood. That Elendira looks so young just makes it more disturbing. (And I deeply respect that Orange didn't go for titillating, which anime has a bad habit of doing with similar characters. Elendira isn't there to excite us. She's terrifying. It's like ep 11 being SA but stripped of anything resembling sex, leaving only the victim's terror, suffering and despair.)

This is something Meryl can't face on her own. She needs one more example of teamwork… and Roberto, ever-willing to teach, manages to anticipate and protect her long enough to see one arrive.

Big brother comes to the rescue of little sister.

Wolfwood defeats Elendira because he knows better than to hesitate. He knows that one cannot judge by appearances - he's the younger of the two! Elendira was around before Rollo; Wolfwood came after him. But physically he's older, and stronger, and willing to exert that strength to defeat her. And Elendira's got the same weakness as Knives - her confidence can't withstand even a single attempt to hit back. She falls apart like a little kid, wailing as in much surprise and outrage as in pain. Did you just shoot me?!

Meryl suffers a much more devastating blow when she realises Roberto is dying. But she survives it. And Roberto proves one final time why he was the best teacher for her. Because he doesn't blame her. He could easily have left the same scar in her that Knives left in Vash - you cannot judge, because this is all your fault.

But he doesn't. He tells her this isn't her fault. He tells her she can choose. He tells her to follow her heart. Choose your own path and walk it with confidence. And he gives her the weapon that becomes her name, along with the name itself.

Meryl Stryfe.

She's the only one she has left to rely on now. And she's ready.

Part I

Part II

Part III

Part IV

Part V

Part VI

Part VIII

Part IX

#meta: little but fierce #trigun stampede #trigun meta #meryl stryfe #sorry it's a little bare bones. stupid computer #edit: OKAY it has pictures now #ever think about how elendira has red lipstick and nails and a pink dress (i.e. derivation of red)#and how her bangs are longer on the right side #and how she fires her nails like bullets #and how much tesla looks like vash #and how much is wrong with knives's horrible trash brain #because i do ALL the time

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femaletwstsupremacy · 1 year

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hello! i love your works! can i request your chosen characters dealing with comphet? ( they realize they're not into men after meeting fem!yuu)

" 𝐈 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐈 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞, 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐚 𝐬𝐡𝐞❤️"

𝐅𝐞𝐚𝐭! 𝐅𝐞𝐦!𝐑𝐢𝐝𝐝𝐥𝐞, 𝐕𝐢𝐥, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐒𝐞𝐛𝐞𝐤

A/N: Ty anon! <333 I had to search up comphet since unfortunately I didn't know about it until this ask. So this may or may not be accurate due to the amount of confusion I had with the multiple definitions. Also new format yet again because why not. I was on crack while writing Sebek's/j

RIDDLE ROSEHEARTS...DORM LEADER OF HEARTSLABYUL

Due to her Mother's ways of teaching, Riddle never recognized women as someone she could develop romantic interest in. It was always the man and the woman in the eyes of her Mother, so naturally she would assume the same. That is, until you decided to enter her life and jeopardize everything she thought she knew.

No doubt about it comphet is gonna hit hard for her, you're a woman! So why does she feel like her heart is bursting every time you're near? Why does she get nervous and her hands clammy? Why does a simple touch from you have her flustered? Isn't she only supposed to feel this when it comes to men? Why??? She's having a terrible crisis, all beliefs that were reinforced by her Mother were all out of the window. Riddle tries to hide her newfound stress and it convinced everyone that it was just her usual behavior. Well, almost everyone. Trey and unsurprisingly Cater noticed something wasn't right about how their dorm leader was acting.

Riddle was way more high strung than usual, Trey noticed. When she talked about it with Cater she seemed to agree as well. So they both took it upon themselves to have a talk with Riddle to get whatever is bothering her off her chest. It took some prodding from the both of them but eventually Riddle caved in and confessed her newest source of stress. To say the least, it was surprising. To think that Riddle would be stressing over this, but that doesn't make it less valid in the least.

With a bit of reassurance from both Trey and Cater, Riddle is slowly coming to terms with that fact that she CAN be attracted to the same gender and that it's perfectly fine. Coming out of her former mindset one step at a time.

And maybe in the near future she might consider asking you out...

"I still have some extra tarts from the last unbirthday party. Would...you like one..?"

VIL SCHOENHEIT...THE FAIREST QUEEN

She always used to read fairytales about a prince and a princess, and all the love interests she saw on the stage were always between a man and a woman. So she assumed that it's the only form of love she'll get romantically. As she grew older and got more exposure in her line of work, she started seeing relationships between the same gender. When she first witnessed this, she saw nothing wrong with it. But she doesn't see herself getting in the same type of relationship. Neither was she interested with anyone at the time. Until you stole her heart that is.

Her heart is practically bursting at the seams, keeping her poker face is suddenly something difficult to do whenever she's with you. Is this what the characters in the films she played in felt? Truly, you put a curse on her didn't you? She laughed dryly at her own thoughts. It was a silly in the first place anyway, something to placate her stampeding thoughts. You were magicless after all. Putting a curse on her is nigh impossible. But that in itself proves she fell in love with you. She tries to reject it futilely, trying to convince herself that there's no way she's in love with a woman. But with every interaction with you, the small gestures of kindness you give to her, your smile... She starts to feel herself becoming more and more enamoured with you.

Vil takes comphet quite well, even if she does reject it at first. In the end, she accepts the love she has for you. Afterall, love is something beautiful isn't it? And this Queen desires to have all the beauty in the world. And now, she wishes to have it all with you <3.

"You know I don't settle for anything less than perfection don't you potato?"

SEBEK ZIGVOLT...KNIGHT OF THE FUTURE QUEEN

Her parents were of opposite gender so she instantly assumed this was what all relationships were like. Sebek never really cared for romance, too caught up with her training as Malleus' knight. Why should she indulge herself with such pleasantries? Her duty is far more important in the end. Because of this, she never had a crush nor did she have much knowledge when it comes to romance. Even those who were interested with her (they were all men), would all get brushed off by her. Or Rather she couldn't pick up on their advances and ignored it seeing as it had nothing to do with her duties. Come in, magicless prefect.

Much like Riddle she has a huge crisis, this isn't supposed to happen! You were insufferable, not only that you both were of the same gender! So why does she crave your presence? Why does she get embarrassed when her hands brush against yours? Why does she begrudgingly help you with whatever you're doing? Why was she unintentionally staring at you in class? Only breaking out of her trance when Crewel hits her pointer on the desk. She was extremely ashamed after that incident. Yes, she blames you for it.

Eventually her woes start affecting the way she performs her duties. She got herself defeated by Silver by a few moves in training for goodness sake! Not only that she started getting more irritable, making the few lot of people who would be willing to approach her become unwilling with every shout coming from her. Seeing this, Lilia knew something was wrong. Sebek wasn't the type to do horribly, especially with things she finds as significant and that includes her duties. Lilia decides to call over Sebek to the Diasomnia lounge to have a chat, when she sat down Sebek was clearly tense. Why wouldn't she be? She knows she's getting more and more irritable because of her...current problem...And the fact that she might accidentally lash out on Lilia horrifies her to no end.

Lilia starts off slow, asking Sebek about trivial things, like how her day was. Her easygoing smile betraying nothing. Eventually she draws the conversation to the one thing Lilia needs to know.

"Could you perhaps tell me what's bothering you Sebek?"

The half-fae instantly freezes at the question, the words dying on her tongue. Should she tell Lilia about her current predicament? Or should she continue keep it to herself? Her question was answered by Lilia, who tells her that she will feel much better after venting out her feelings. With that Sebek hesitantly tells Lilia about her woes, and Lilia has to hold back her snicker at Sebek's confession. So this is what was bothering her? Simply just a crush on the Ramshackle prefect? Of course Lilia has to tease her a tad bit, with Sebek flushing a bright red that might as well rival Riddle.

With Lilia's reassurance and encouragement, Sebek starts to embrace these feelings of hers and think of it as something natural rather than alien. She also subtly courts you, and by subtle I mean "you won't even know shit until she confesses to you" type of subtle. Especially since all of them are old fae courting rituals.

Like Riddle, she doesn't take comphet very well. But she manages to work through it and eventually accept her feelings.

(Goddamn Sebek's is long asf)

Made by @femaletwstsupremacy please do not plagiarize, repost or do anything related to copying to my works.

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anachronistic-falsehood · 1 year

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SO. ON THE TOPIC OF LOSS OF AUTONOMY. i am having the analysis brainworms now i hope u dont mind me going off in ur inbox. hi :]

there is something to be said about how vash's name is used against him constantly. that loss of who he even is as a person. i think about this so much. his name, his very identity is taken away from him. just the mere mention of the name vash the stampede is enough to send an ENTIRE town into a panic. it happens so much and its DEVASTATING to me. hes been labelled a monster across the entire world, and people who stick by his side after hearing his name are few and far between. theres been so much fear tacked onto his name, so much so that OTHER outlaws have used it on multiple occasions to make themselves more powerful. using his name to commit crimes that the real vash would be horrified to even consider. power in names and all that.

vash even. leans into it himself at a certain point. in order to protect the people of augusta he runs through the city shooting bullets into the air and solidifying his image of a deranged killer in the pursuit of. saving everyone. the only way theyll listen to him is if they think hes going to kill them all. if theyre afraid of him. theres also the part in hang fire (? i think its that one) where hes walking through the halls of the sand steamer singing about killing people in order to scare the bandits into not hurting the hostages.

and then you think about. eriks. how lina and her grandma took him in and accepted them as part of his family. how the town around them accepted him only because they had no idea who he actually was. he was a good guy... up until they learned he was vash. and then we get the conversation between the two men in the bar talking about how they should chase him out of town, despite living around him and knowinf him and seeing how good he is for . two years.

but lina and her grandma still accept him after that. theyre one of the only people besides milly/meryl/wolfwood who genuinely love and care abt him despite his name. they still want to keep him safe, grandma asks wolfwood to protect him and keep him out of trouble, even after learning hes the legendary outlaw gunman. because shes seen the true vash ans doesnt let the name scare her.

aughhh im rambling now i probably should have made this into my own post but this makes me SO fuckign crazy dude . give me ur thoughts id love to hear them.

I. YEAH. YEAH. OH MY GOD. Like. nothing is his own anymore. His name is used against him, his face is plastered on wanted posters. There is nothing about himself that he can truly call his. Not even his Plant powers! Because those are used against him time and time again by Knives in EVERY ADAPTATION!!!!

Like. Vash is no longer the name of a kid who once argued with his brother and laughed with his mother and celebrated his birthday and rolled around in grassy fields. It's the name of an outlaw who will kill at the drop of a hat. It's the name of an out-of-control human natural disaster who's leveled cities. If he doesn't even have his name, then what part of himself is really himself anymore?

AND THAT'S WHY I LOVE ERIKS! He finally has something of his own! He's got a name that attached to no one, and a life where he can settle down and stay out of the public eye. He finally has something that is truly his. And no one lets him keep that except for Lina and her grandma.

This guy really has no control over his own life doesn't he!!! He's a passive character in the story of his own life!!! He has nothing of his own, no identity past "humanoid typhoon" because everything about his identity has been stripped from him and morphed into something he's not. He has no say in anything in his life, not even who he is as a person, AND IT DRIVES ME BONKERS N FUCKING YONKERS!!!!

#whiskeys word soup #friend tag :3 #trigun #not doing the full formatting for my usual analysis posts bc this is shorter than most #but i'll throw in a few bolds and italics for ease of reading #BUT YEAH. YEAH. i don't have much more to say bc you worded it perfectly but YEAH.#grabbing you by the shoulders and shaking you MAC I'M GOING TO EAT STYROFOAM #MAC. YOUR MIND.#GOD. HE REALLY DOES HAVE ABSOLUTELY NOTHING OF HIS OWN DOESN'T HE #he has no control over anything that happens to him i'm clawing at the walls I'M SCREAMING AND WAILING!!!!!#oh eriks my beloved. being eriks was probably the only thing that made vash feel like a normal person for the longest time #and it was only for two years. TWO YEARS out of ONE HUNDRED AND FIFTY

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undiscovered-horizon · 1 year

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Congrats on 2K! Can you do any Doctor in a train station with a letter?

[2K Followers 'Clue' Special]

During the reign of Queen Victoria, British Empire experienced tremendous technological advancement. One might even go as far as to call it an unbelievable advancement. That "one" being the Doctor himself as he, through an unimaginably strange chain of events, received a letter from 1863. The envelope simply lay there one day, under the door to TARDIS as though an actual postman had passed by them.

At first he, naturally, thought it was fake. But the letter was clearly calligraphed with a pen and the post stamp had the right design. Even the paper looked to be around 160 years old. As far as he could tell, and those were great lengths, the letter was genuine. Having no other option but to accept this inexplicable course of events, he decided to read the message thoroughly and take its contents to heart. Especially the compliments and celebrating he only half-believed to be deserving of.

Paddington train station is packed. People rush from platform to platform, hurriedly checking their luggage and documents, and exchanging goodbyes. Some of them frantically walk around and pace, unable to contain the happiness of upcoming reuniting with their loved ones.

No one seems to pay attention to him. He's still unsure whether he's doing the smart thing as he once more checks the time on his pocket watch. They should arrive any minute now.

With a screeching of wheels and an impenetrable cloud of smoke, the train comes to a halt. It's a beautiful showcase of human ingenuity and craftsmanship. The doors to wagons are opening accompanied by creaks. A mob of travellers from York floods the station.

Searching the stampede of a crowd, the Doctor finally notices a young woman. She's dressed no different than other ladies of the 19th century. There's confidence and thrill in her step as she's clearly walking towards him. Without a doubt, this is the author of the mysterious letter.

During the train ride, you kept on wondering what face he'll have. Will you be able to tell him apart from other men? Arriving at Paddington, however, you realize how silly your worry truly was. His strange, unfashionable attire makes it simply impossible to overlook him. Spotting him among the other passengers, you walk in his direction.

"This is yours, I believe." The Doctor offers you the letter as though you had merely lent it to him instead of gifting it.

You do not take up his offer. In fact, you don't even acknowledge the envelope in his hand. A polite yet excited smile appears on your face. "Then you must be him, sir."

"None other," he answers. Understanding your silent refusal, the Doctor puts the letter back in one of the inner pockets of his jacket. "Welcome to London, miss." Unprompted, he takes your luggage and offers you his other arm to walk with him.

You've got a lot of explaining to do...

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scoundrels-in-love · 1 year

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(if this is what you wanted) It's never an easy thing (just shoot me)

It is true that Meryl can't protect Vash or even herself from gunfire, a fact that is embedded deep into her nightmares, but there are other skills she can contribute to their ragtag team. Skills like budgeting and planning, making their night shift rotations and making them stick to it, despite Wolfwood's seeming aggressive dislike for such things. At this rate, all that's left is for her to learn how to shoot a gun. Surely, nothing can go wrong with that, especially with Wolfwood suddenly volunteering to be her teacher. | Stryfewood & Vashmeryl (as platonic or romantic as you're inclined to see at this stage) | | Questionable gun safety practices | Tiny animals are put in dangerous situation (but they're fine) | Implied mention of assumption of sexual assault (that has not occured) | Wolfwood does woodcarving | Meryl with a baseball bat agenda | Also on AO3.

Meryl would never admit it, but it does feel safer to have Wolfwood traveling with them.

It's not that she doesn't trust Vash to protect them, if needed. (If had been hastily scribbled out and replaced by when the same day their party had grown in size.) It's that neither she nor Roberto can protect or even really help Vash. No human can.

Wolfwood, being a splinter away from the concept, can do it, though. He can follow the blonde gunslinger into the gunfire, cover his back and pull him out of trouble just in time. She hopes that, whatever he is, it's enough to save Vash when he would not think to do so himself.

She knows of augmented humans, has seen her share of them very recently even, the Nebraska pair’s youngest and the mad cackle of E. G. Mine still chasing her down collapsing streets often enough in her sleep.

Wolfwood isn't quite like that and neither is Vash, though they, too, differ in some odd tones of beyond-human. And maybe beyond-humanity as well. They both think they're good at concealing it, though, and it almost feels like an insult to her observational skills, especially considering the proximity they're traveling in, the scuffles with several bounty hunters and other unsavory types along the way.

A large part of Meryl wants to find the time, sit the two men down and peel them open layer by layer, write them into her notebook until they make some semblance of sense. They owe her that much, for the cracks in her composure, if not sanity, after traveling with them for days, weeks, on end in a cramped space.

Unfortunately, so far there's only one thing she's absolutely sure about: if Vash is the Humanoid Typhoon, Wolfwood is the Humanoid Pain in the Ass. No, that's too long. She will need to think of something catchier.

He gets under everyone's skin, even Vash's, but that may be the only good instance of it, because he's eating and laughing, sometimes truly sincerely, again. It's almost like she owes Wolfwood not just her life, but calling Vash back to his, too.

But none of that means she lets him get away with - well, all of him, really. From the teasing to smoking in the car, to digging little thorns under Vash's skin and yanking just when Vash has almost forgotten about them, to glancing at her when he thinks she won’t catch it, as if he can't quite figure her out or if it's even worth the time to have a look and try.

It’s not as bad as some attitude she’s received, but enough to make her grind her teeth at times. And though she has nothing to prove to Wolfwood, the thought of making him look fuels her along, almost equally to having Roberto use her name, finally.

It is true that Meryl can't protect Vash or even herself from gunfire, a fact that is embedded deep into her nightmares, but there are other skills out there, some of which she even has been graded for officially, and others simply proven by the fact she is here, chasing down Vash the Stampede's story at his side.

Planning is something she knows well. Where spontaneity often sends her face first into a dune, both literally and figuratively, a good plan has always been her best friend, from big tasks like group projects to simply rehearsing simple conversations ahead. And, honestly, what is this, if not a roughly hewn group project?

So, she gets to fixing it up. She budgets their finances, chewing on her pencil through the evening as they settle around a campfire. She makes night and driving shift rotations and decides she must learn how to shoot, because it's unfair that only men get to keep watch because they're armed. Nevermind that most of the driving rest on her shoulders still as Roberto's leg acts up after a few hours, Vash doesn't have a license and Wolfwood outright refuses to on the grounds he only drives two-wheel vehicles. (Like it’s supposed to make sense or somehow be safer and she’d love to smack him upside the head for that one, if only he’d not been so tall. She’d settled for his arm instead.)

Not all of this goes over smoothly with the group. Most of all, with Wolfwood. The first time she catches up to him striding away for a leg stretch and smoke break and presents her notebook, quite pleased with her work, his reaction is like a slap.

"Well, well, would you look at that. Tell me, little lady, has life always gone along with your pretty little plans?" He is sneering around the cigarette, sharper and more vicious than ever before.

She bristles, because what does he know of the things she's wanted from her life, things she's buried in shallow graves along the way? How hard she's had to claw (sometimes at herself) for what little space and respect she's claimed? How dare he think he can just slap it out of her hand as if she's a naughty child grabbing at what isn't meant for her.

"Maybe not, but at least I'm trying and it's better than wandering in the desert aimlessly, hoping to run into the next person to scam!"

It's not as scathing as she'd have liked, it never is when she doesn't get to think it through before, but even so, it would have become a new kind of ugly, she thinks, if Vash hadn't inserted himself between them then, severing the death lock of their gazes, like two snakes that might die strangling the other.

Still, they settle into a routine eventually, at her insistence and with Vash’s excited interest in her planning methods as her support. All that is left now is learning how to handle a gun. As expected, Roberto’s not particularly eager to teach, but she assures him she’s a quick and self-efficient learner for the hundredth time, so he gives her the rundown of basics and safety (“Never put your finger on the trigger unless you intend to shoot, Rookie.”) and gives some advice on how to set up the trash-targets for whenever they settle down.

That’s how she’s left here at their latest overnight camp, stacking bottles and cans on different rocks while her mentor and Vash are off to see if they can get rooms at the saloon now (they’d been brushed off last night when they had arrived past midnight). Wolfwood has stayed behind to smoke and keep guard, or something.

Honestly, Meryl is feeling less than enthused about the whole thing at the moment. So far she’s hit nothing and she’s well aware of how costly the bullets are. Plus, if she doesn’t improve quickly or gives up on it entirely, it feels like a notch against her on some invisible scale. Maybe she’s the one upholding it now, but it’s been so very thoughtfully handed to her by other people.

Her shot goes right between the two bottles, so neatly you’d think she had meant to do that. Meryl heaves a sigh and pushes her hat back, as if that will somehow help her concentrate. (It might, actually.)

Suddenly, Wolfwood’s face enters her vision, making her jump and choke on a squeak. He moves so damn quiet for someone his size, it makes no sense. "What's the long face for? Did you really think Blondie would teach you how to shoot, what with his saint routine of hurting nobody?"

"No!" she says a little too forcefully and knows she's shown her hand even without watching Wolfwood's satisfied grin widening.

It's not that it’s been her goal for picking up the gun, really, but maybe she had fallen asleep thinking about how it'd be if Vash stood behind her and adjusted her aim just so, like in those few Outlaw romance novels floating about, that she'd get her friend to sign up in wait-list for and consume in a single night after her friend was done leafing through. Maybe he'd even put his arms around her and put his face next to hers, and—

"This is the funniest shit I've seen in years, little lady. Seducing our pacifist with wielding a gun? Really?"

"It's not that! I'm learning to shoot for my turns on the watch!" Meryl brushes past him, takes the stance and raises the gun. She hates how he words it, like some nefarious scheme. Is it really so horrible to want to learn from the best shot she's seen or even be held for a brief second? It's not like she can just ask for that. Hell, she probably can and Vash would just pull her in a bear hug before plopping her back down and ruffling her hair like she was one of the kids he always charms. She can't decide if the act of asking or Roberto and Wolfwood witnessing it would be more devastatingly embarrassing.

Instead, she grits her teeth and blasts a can off the rock, through ricochet. It pings off somewhere into a sand dune, thankfully.

"Oh, that so? Gonna hit the brakes on your idealism and blow a few heads open to protect our sleep?"

She gives him a look of What is wrong with you. "I only need my grip and warning shot to look convincing. You'll wake up from the noise and do your thing, no?"

It is as if the ricochet has caught Wolfwood, too. He freezes for a second between inhale and exhale, and she can't make a damn sense of his reaction. Reading expressions can be hard for her at times, even in better circumstances, with better faces to read.

Then Wolfwood lets out a long puff of smoke, almost languid, almost like a sigh.

"Want me to teach you then, Shortstacks? Would be a real shame if you blew a hole in the car instead of some goon."

"Stop joking around, I'm trying to focus." What is it with the men in their group and making jokes out of everything?

"I'm serious!" He steps up to her again, arms out in a mock play at sincerity,

"Do you even know how to handle a gun that's not the size of a house?" She is already regretting it, even before she's done speaking. Once again, the missing tether between her tongue and intention puts a whole boot tray in her mouth, sand and all.

Wolfwood leans in, looms over her even. The way he's got his hand in his pocket makes the buttons on his shirt struggle for their life even more and she has to crane her head to avoid that view and look the smirking man in the eye.

"Oh, little lady, I think right now you ought to be worrying about what guns you can handle."

Tomorrow or the day after, she'll have a scathing reply for this. Right now, she can only whip around toward the targets.

"Well then, are you going to teach me or just run your mouth?"

"As the lady commands," he says behind her, voice gilded at the edge with the satisfaction of having won this round.

The thing is, Wolfwood turns out to be a good teacher. They go through the basics again, including gun safety, and he even thinks to figure out which is her dominant eye. (She knows because of the photo camera's viewfinder, but it's a nice consideration.) He is also much better at explaining sight alignment than Roberto was. He doesn't even really tease Meryl when she fumbles a few more shots and she feels her confidence rapidly increase.

There is a patience to him that Meryl had not anticipated. He is firm, but it's wrapped in tatters of gentleness that he tries to conceal, tucking them this way and that, but the act of teaching seems to pull them back fluttering in the wind.

"Whatchu looking at me like that for? I got a worm on my face or did you finally notice my handsome looks?"

She rolls her eyes at that, but decides to be honest nonetheless. After all, she knows so little about Wolfwood (Maybe she hadn’t been looking either, not as closely as any person deserves.) "Just… Thanks. You're good at this. Teaching, I mean. Do you have a younger sibling or something?"

There is no other way to say it - Wolfwood's face shutters. So hard and so fast the proverbial glass cracks and her whole body tenses, heart jumping in her throat. She doesn't have time to realize if she's afraid of him or whatever she did to him, somehow.

“Show me, then.”

Her face must’ve conveyed her confusion (and probably how startled she is), because he continues: “Let’s move to live targets.”

“What?”

He grins and there’s something in his expression that she can’t describe - something hunting and yet hunted, like a beast she has no name for - staring down at her. Wolfwood points at the little family of long-snouted creatures just outside of their dens. Just last night, she had spent half an hour or more gushing about them and wasted precious film trying to capture them hopping about and grooming each other.

“Do you really think some outlaw’s gonna stand around prettily waiting for you to aim at their head for an empty lil’ threat? I could get to you long before you stop shaking and take your new little toy away from you. Anyone could.”

He is right and there is panic rising in her chest like a sandstorm, abrupt and all consuming. It’s not as if she’s not thought a-

“You gotta take warning shots that count. Know how to put a third eye in someone, for all the times when Needle-noggin won’t be hovering anxiously over you. At least take their leg out to slow them down. “

She is shaking her head fervently, so much that she can’t tell if she’s feeling lightheaded from it, or everything that Wolfwood is sending crashing over her.

��C’mon, show me, if you’re so serious about protecting us, not just getting Blondie’s hands on you. Show me you can be more than a fuckin’ liability and a bunch of pretty words.”

Something cracks in her. The ghosts that linger under her skin as failed promises and unheard apologies, the people she has failed (Would Tonis have his arm still if she knew how to shoot? If she had somehow put a bullet in E. G. Mine when Vash hesitated?), everyone she wanted to protect, but couldn’t because all she had were words and plans and she had let Tonis go and-

Meryl raises her gun. The little things skitter about, foraging for some kind of nutrition in the dry sand. Her vision is swimming and she blinks rapidly.

Wolfwood is talking still, things she hears but doesn’t process, not entirely. It is just glass in her veins, thousand little shards tearing up her lungs. Her finger slots over the trigger.

(“Never put your finger on the trigger unless you intend to shoot, Rookie.”)

She observes their movements, thinks back from last night. Their scurrying feels so loud right now, but maybe it’s just her heartbeat. Tonis would like them. Focus. Focus like in the field. What is in the viewfinder. Where the ball goes, how fast, the gust of wind-

Meryl fires twice, one lands in the middle of the little group, sending the creatures scattering, and another misses an adult heading straight for the burrow by an inch. Closer than she had meant, they’re so fast, but there’s a rush in her head, as if she had done something right.

"Close enough for you?" She asks and then the indignant triumph is curdling in her stomach so fast that she has to slap a hand over her mouth and run past Wolfwood, behind the car and dry heave. She almost hit it, she almost killed a living being, and for what? The images of torn up bodies, dead and alive, swarm in her mind, bringing the heavy iron-like scent of blood with them.

It's that easy to play a god to a creature that has done nothing to you. It's that easy to be goaded. At least for her, she thinks, recalling the satisfying snap of bones when she had "miscalculated" the trajectory of the pitch and it flew directly in the face of the man who had spread rumors about her friend. She'd almost lost her position in the Uni baseball team for it, but her friend's smile had felt a thousand times worth it.

(It hadn't been enough, of course, to prevent what came soon and that memory drags itself out of its tomb, crawls onto her back and holds onto her with icy fingers, making her whole body shiver. She sinks onto her knees in the hot sand, only at the last second thinking to put the gun in her lap. Roberto would be so mad if she made a mess of it.)

How does Vash do it, how does he hold back when they hurt him and betray him over things he's not even done? It'd be so easy to let go, not even in retaliation, but in self defense, wouldn't it?

She argues with herself that this is hardly the same as maiming a human or taking their life, but the squeamish feeling doesn't subside and E. G. Mine's laugh rattles in her head, insistent.

It takes her a while to calm down, but by the time Vash and Roberto return, she's put the gun on Roberto's seat and is finishing packing up the camp. She hasn't exchanged a word with Wolfwood and, for a moment, she had almost thought he had just left before she spotted him chain-smoking a little ways off.

Though she does her best to listen to what the men are saying and engage, feel genuine excitement for the booked rooms and a bed of her own, Meryl's thoughts feel somehow sheer, like clouds in the early morning.

Roberto volunteers to help her put the tent in the trunk, almost uncharacteristically, and yet she barely thinks of it, until he puts a hand on her shoulder.

"Rookie, you okay?" her mentor asks and she plasters a smile on her face. (Maybe she's learning something from Vash after all.)

"Yeah, of course!"

"Lie better." (Maybe not.)

His grip tightens a little. "Did that cross bastard hurt you? I swear, I'll put another hole in his head-"

The intensity of Roberto's statement forces her floating pieces back together. "No! No. He just taught me how to shoot and it must've tired me out more than I expected. I'm much better at it now, though."

Good enough to kill, even.

Roberto gives her a long, searching look, before sighing and slamming the trunk shut. "Alright. It's not like I can make you talk if you don't want to. Just know that you can." He doesn't say her name still, but the concern is palpable and presses into her throat. She'll say thank you later, somehow. Get him an extra pack of cigarettes, at least.

"I'm fine, really. Nothing a good night's rest won't fix." Nothing that she won't have to face every time she holds a gun. Maybe it's called No Man's Land because no one can really stay human out here.

The drive to town is filled with Vash trying to engage any of them in a conversation and being coldly shut down with silence. She tries to be nicer, says it's a headache from being out in the sun too long. But she can tell it doesn't fool him.

The food at the saloon is tasteless and Meryl can't tell if it's because this place hasn't seen a decent ingredient in months, if not years, or because of her. They all separate more quickly than usual and Vash tries to intercept her on the stairs, but she brushes past him, with her best apologetic smile. Somehow, he's the last person she wants to talk to about this.

But it also means that when she's lying in her bed, listening to the muffled sounds of the bar below and suffocating, when the nightmares come and every star glitters like a knife, is one, she has no one to turn to or be comforted by. That's just fair, she figures.

"You look like death warmed over," Roberto comments next morning and she shoots back that he'd know, always looking like that after a few drinks too many. The snip seems to appease him enough to treat her like usual.

Meryl still can't look at Wolfwood, though, and she can't even say that she's angry at him. Sure, he goaded her, but it was her who decided to take aim and where. You're not angry at the test sheet you got a horrible grade on, it just exists to challenge you. And Vash is sitting to her left, overcompensating for their sunken moods as he gushes over the bland breakfast food, like someone who got perfect marks and extra credit without having even studied for it.

She wonders briefly if Vash would look disappointed if she told him, just before grinning at her and telling it's good she'll be able to protect herself, if need be. Maybe Wolfwood has already told him, if the blonde questioned him. Rationally, Vash's opinion on the matter (and most things in general) should not matter as much as she feels it does right now. It does.

And just as rationally, Meryl knows she can’t change what she has done. What she hasn’t done. That acceptance is as familiar and as bitter as the coffee she’s sipping, her grip tight on the mug. She might’ve disappointed Vash last night, she might do it again. But until then, and after that, she can take Vash’s example to heart, she can keep yesterday in her memory like a cornerstone to uphold her when her judgment falters again.

When they get into the car, she cranks up the volume of the radio a little louder than usual, finds a station more focused on music and starts humming along to the tune. Vash perks up visibly, popping his face between the front seats and starting to ask about the song, what kind of music is popular right now and what are her favorites. She can tell he’s still eyeing her as if she’s going to snap in some way (she already has, ten or twenty times over, and put herself back together, too and it’s kind of irritating, this expectation she’d remain in pieces), but it’s an offering of normalcy that he still eagerly takes. Even Roberto doesn’t complain. And Wolfwood… Well, he can go and choke on a cig.

Funny that he doesn’t pick a fight about smoking inside the car for the entire day.

She doesn’t talk to him other than the absolute necessity that day or the next and Roberto calls them both two kindergarteners. Well, he actually says he’s been allotted one and when she points out the guys aren’t better he doesn’t disagree, but close enough. And, honestly, they’re being perfectly civil. More so than before. It’s just that the gunsmoke lingers and obscures what could be said, so she cannot grasp the shape of it. Neither thank you nor apology, nor a return to normalcy - because they never really had that.

Vash is still trying to fix this and she has no idea if he knows what ‘this’ exactly is or not, but Wolfwood ignores him outright while she distracts him with this or that as she builds his past and image together piece by piece. Eventually she’ll have a puzzle complete enough to present to her readers, no matter how much laughter he throws like blankets over the cagey expressions.

It’s the second night that her watch shift falls after Roberto’s. He nudges Meryl out of what has been a blessedly dreamless sleep in the middle of the night and a part of her regrets the whole shift idea dearly as she pulls her jacket tighter about herself, accepts the gun and climbs out of the car as quietly as she can to take the spot on the roof.

The moons are full and engulfing what feels like half the sky, few stars further away from their light are dotting the darkness and there’s also an ember of a burning cigarette down to her right. She can’t really tell what Wolfwood is doing from this angle, especially with how he’s pressed up against that cross-weapon of his and it’s not like she really cares. If he wants to waste the night that he could’ve slept all the way through by smoking, that’s his choice. They are all adults here. Maybe some less than others, but it’s none of her business.

When dawn is coloring the horizon in softest purples, edged in early gold that promises a scorching day, and she’s been writing and rewriting articles in her head for hours, there’s a shift and a groan down where Wolfwood is sitting. A quick peek reveals he’s just stood up and is brushing sand off of himself, so Meryl goes back to what she was doing before.

“Hey,” the man whisper-shouts and she looks in his direction again, startled from the broken silence, just in time to instinctively reach out and catch the tiny flying object that he’s thrown up at her. He looks vaguely impressed that she does, but if she wasn’t supposed to catch it, why throw it?!

She opens her palm and the frustrated huff turns into a delighted gasp.

What she’s holding is a tiny, long snouted and legged creature, carved carefully from wood. There are even tiny whiskers and the long, thin tail. It’s wonderful and incredibly lifelike and she hasn’t seen anything so cute in ages. She hadn’t even really thought if something so dainty could be crafted like this, really. And yet, the evidence sits in her palm, peering up to her.

Wolfwood hauls himself up on the roof and she shifts to make space for him. He settles cross-legged next to her and stares ahead, pointedly. “Since you like ‘em so much and everything,” he says, as a way of explaining, stretching and scratching at the back of his neck in an attempt to hide the tell of awkwardness.

It’s clumsy in delivery, but Meryl knows an unspoken apology when she sees one, though she is usually the one delivering them, not receiving.

“It’s not too bad,” she says, bringing her palm up to tap its nose with her fingertip gently, a smile on her face that Meryl can’t help. It wobbles a little and falls over and she hastily brings it back up again.

“Yeah?” There is something vulnerable and almost childish in Wolfwood’s tone and she gives him a sidelong glance, at his profile standing out against the warmer and warmer still color gradient of the sky. He’s still not looking at her, his arms thrown back to support him while he’s looking up at the sky, but there’s tension in his jaw and, briefly, she wonders how old he’d actually look if he would take the sunglasses and the smirk off for once.

“Yeah.” Meryl bumps her shoulder to his in reassurance, before going back to admiring the little piece of artwork that is hers. There aren’t many of those - things that are hers and hers alone. At least not the good ones that aren’t regrets and fears. She’d clutch it tight, if not for fear of crushing it, much like this moment of peace and understanding. (Part of her already worries about where and how she’ll keep it safe.)

“Thanks.” It’s a small word in comparison to everything, but she hopes he’ll understand. In this light, Nicholas’ smile looks frail and genuine and she thinks he does.

One of these days, she’ll ask (carefully) where he learned to carve wood like this and tell him about playing baseball. Not now, when the silence has grown warm and worn in a comforting way. But one of these days.

#trigun #trigun stampede #meryl stryfe #stryfewood #vashmeryl #rainy writes stuff #my fic #i am tagging the ships because it's part of series that have those relationships ultimately #this is just slow buildup #this one gave me so much trouble i just want it out and be gone #tags make it sound worse than it is i promise

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visxionaries · 3 months

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who: @domericstone when and where: the tourney celebrating the coronation of king jaehaerys targaryen, moments before the king graham royce of the vale is unseated by a mystery knight. in some moments, it will be clear there was foul play and intention at hand here. the men are getting onto their horses and readying their equipment. what: at this moment in time, cedric tyrell found himself in discussion with lord domeric stone - of the vale. or the north. both men remain unaware of what was about to happen.

the tiltyard was a different sort of game, and one that cedric tyrell was not the most talented at: whilst all men in the reach were trained in the arts of chivalry that made up the essentials of knighthood, there were only a number that truly meant it. it was something he often heard the high commander ranting over, the nature of those who earned their knighthood instead of those who had simply been purchased - it mattered little to cedric. in fact, it did not matter at all; there was little difference between how notions of romanticised knighthood impacted both men and women alike.

the crowds were vast, the seating high, though cedric found himself amongst the sides of the track, one of the many men who cheered on lord florent. the annoyance at his face continued to amuse him to no end as he patted the man's mare.

and in some spaces beside them were the vale faction, a matter that was a bigger deal to the knights of the reach rather than the king himself: all knew of the rivalry that came between the two regions when it came to the matter of chivalry and knighthood, the history and the essence behind it. time passed, and as men continued to speak, cedric tyrell found himself within the group wishing luck to the king consort of the vale - including the likes of the master of coin. a man whose name will go down in legends equated to a name uttered to scare children into scrambling into their beds.

"truthfully, we are still in the process of banking internally. we have investments within the iron bank that remain; though house hightower has established a bank of it's own. it is a slow process of transference - move too quickly, and the whole thing will come falling down." cedric tyrell believed himself more than able to read facial expressions, to grasp a good judgement of people and yet this one - there was an exception here. and it quietly bothered him, regardless of the conversation that passed between them.

"there comes advantage in owing debts to banners, rather than a power across the sea. i suspect matters would be dealt with far quicker." the iron bank were known to not enjoy waiting. they too, did not appreciate debts not being paid. there was one thing he could grasp about the master of coin, and that was the fact he detested meaningless discussion. meanwhile to cedric, no conversation was truly meaningless; there was always something to gage from a situation, or an individual. especially from one as shifty as domeric, whom had seemingly had many names, many positions, and many reputations.

the discussions continued as the jousts continued, pausing to view the tilts and the clashes each time they roared through the air. "how have you found aiding the north in their repayment of the iron bank?" cedric asked, his question pointed - considering all had heard of the way in which the three sisters had involved themselves by looting a manderly vessel. then there was an ominous silence from the sisters, according to the reports of his mistress of whispers. and he listened as domeric began to respond, his arms crossed against the blue of his tunic as he leaned against a wooden stand; when he heard it. the clash, and the gasp.

glancing to the direction of the shock, he realised what was happening. the king consort of the vale had rolled away from the incoming stampede of hoofs, and then suddenly the image was blurred by the dust that was kicked up by the horses. what he saw, was a large group of nobles stand; knights of the vale pretty much lept over their stands, rushing like the sea onto the track. cedric remained silent, clearly watching the scene unfold.

#c: domeric #domeric 001 #poker face domeric poker face

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hikennosabo · 9 months

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trimax vol 8 random thoughts

i feel like i'm still emotionally caught up in volume 7 lmao... but we march on! mercifully i have less to say about this one than the previous volume, but this still turned out pretty long lol. maybe i should split my posts up more...

chapter 1:

the cross in the foreground of the title page... lmao. subtle storytelling techniques.

we know legato's skill is controlling someone else's body, we've seen him do it before. however. i've been rewatching bits of stampede here and there, in which his power is more like... idk, general application telekinesis? for example, he uses his power to affect the engine on the sandsteamer. it's not that important i suppose but it's a change i'm wondering about.

this has me wondering. what's the relationship like between humans and plants on earth? it's been brought up a few times that humans stripped the earth of its resources. so is it just as exploitative? ...does knives plan on "saving" the plants on earth, too...?

meanwhile, wolfwood... wait a sec, is this...? --IT IS!!!

THE RETURN OF WOLFWOOD'S STUBBLE!!! THANK GOD!!!

...ahem. i mean, the poor man looks exhausted and miserable. but fr i missed his stubble so much, i was sad when he showed up clean shaven way back in trimax vol 1 lol.

...aaaand then the stubble is absent again. glad to have that one panel though.

okay, wolfwood intermission over, back to the conversation between vash and knives. everyone's already said so much about it already, and i've already gone over some parts of it, so i don't think i'm really adding anything here... but i want to talk about some aspects of it that didn't really fit into my other post.

i touched on this in my volume 7 post. vash wants to wait, knives doesn't. and this is interesting to me, because... knives isn't actually wrong here? we saw the Last Run along with knives, we've seen how badly plants are treated. vash answering "that's the way it is" seems, i don't know... passive? like, knives's actions aren't GOOD, but i think his sense of urgency is a little warranted compared to vash just wanting to... wait it out?

and as we know, the reason why humans were trying to emigrate to a new planet in the first place was BECAUSE their resources on earth had run dry. so knives isn't really wrong about that either.

also, the page has already been posted a million times, so i won't repost it again, and also i've already said this, but vash getting so emotional at the mention of tesla that he breaks out of legato's control is crazy. he already fought against legato's control to crawl his way to knives and it wasn't even the full extent of his will.

also "don't you turn away from me, knives!" ...i'm repeating myself atp but god. he just sees right through him, doesn't he.

his ass is not listening at all. knives, honey, he's saying YOU need to look inward!!! vash can see right through you and he's telling you that you failed at truly facing your pain!!! BUT YOUR ASS IS NOT LISTENING!!

chapter 2:

and we're here with livio and wolfwood... livio's mouth doesn't really open when he talks so i can't tell when he's the one talking lol. he... didn't really say much in stampede.

livio is huge, what the hell! why'd they twinkify him so much in stampede!

i must say, so far i haven't met a trigun character that i didn't like. (aside from like, random unimportant one-off villains that i don't care about.) but i like everyone who's been important/recurring. even characters like legato and knives, with all they've done wrong, all of their genuinely heinous actions, i still love them. i get emotional about them and think they're well-written and interesting to think about. that being said... chapel is kinda pissing me off lmao.

^ men will literally do... whatever this is instead of going to therapy.

(also this page is giving sephiroth vibes lol... this isn't the first and won't be the last time i will make this comparison. he IS a very sephiroth-like character.)

the chaos and destruction?! THIS IS ALL HAPPENING SO FAST HELP, ALL THIS AND A SEVEN MONTH TIMESKIP??

OH, WHAT A SIGHT FOR SORE EYES!! i didn't realize how much i missed them until they showed up... :') and yay, luida's here too!

chapter 3:

oh, even brad is back!! :) (i recently rewatched the episode of 98 where he DIES... crossing my fingers he makes it to the end of the manga lol)

meryl... ough :( i wish we could've seen her grapple with and work through all the trauma, talk with milly about it, etc... on top of having to face the sudden apocalypse... gal's been through so much. and she hasn't been able to talk with vash about what happened, the last time they saw each other was... well, it was a rough parting, to say the least. we didn't see her journey but we see her here, on the other side. more tired than before but still moving forward, able to talk honestly about the trauma she faced, and doing what she can to help people. she is so... cool.

also knives keeps making people just Vanish Outright like what is he doing exactly? eating them?? (<- this is a joke but actually.)

the plant memory... knives was brought to his knees by it. and his expression... ough

KNIVES BREAKDOWN.... 2!!!!!!

two breakdowns in two volumes... uaaagh, the effect of his face splitting apart is so GOOD. although i can't tell if the plants are deliberately showing him this, or if it's more of a side effect from absorbing so many...

and yeah, thinking about ordinary people, of course they wouldn't be the ones abusing plants. they don't have the power or authority to do so, especially not at a large scale. but knives doesn't see that - or hasn't seen it until now, rather - and thinks all humans are the same. so the real solution is to dismantle the structures that allow for plant abuse.

ELENDIRA MY BELOVED!! SHE'S SO COOL <333

also i LOVE the image of ww and legato that we end the chapter on. ww gets so many cool compositions, man.

chapter 4:

OUAGH, I LOVE WOLFWOOD. legato i love you baby but you deserved to get shot. also vash using his angel arm to escape...!! i mean, it's not like he has any other weapons he CAN use, but it's still... new to see him willingly using it like this.

I LOVE THE COMPOSITION HERE!!! IT'S SO GOOD!!! the "amen" shaped like a cross? INSANE... and livio's face being in shadow so we only see the skull mask... this panel is SO good

i don't have that much to say about the fight... it's painful to watch. i already know ww and livio's history from stampede, and i don't know how much more of it we're going to get here in the manga, but juxtaposing scenes of young livio against his current self is... all we really need to know. and i love wolfwood's prayer so much, it's just... so sincere and desperate.

i'm absolutely flabbergasted by the level of vashwood. everything about this is so fucking romantic, holy shit.

like. just the act of shielding ww is romantic in and of itself, but. also the fact that he answered ww's prayer. and that vash has been so afraid of his own power, which he's now using to protect... ugh. and their brief banter on the page directly after this is so good.

AND THIS IS JUST. SO GOOD. vash doesn't care about his own life, but HE CARES ABOUT WOLFWOOD!! SO MUCH!! oooggghh THE VASHWOOD OF IT ALL!!!

and then he uses his angel arm again, and it's the fanciest it's ever been... powered up with love... he has full control over it now.

but also, i already talked about this line in my other post, but knives begging vash not to go and saying "we only have each other"...i only talked about knives's feelings in that post - it's true for him. he only has vash. but vash has other people who he loves and who love him. and that love is why vash is doing what he's doing right now. maybe it's what knives was reacting to, when he touched vash with his feather... he realized he couldn't make vash stay. and that's why the end of the chapter says "it's over." just put me in the microwave already. ugh. i should've put this in my other post but i'm having Revelations in real time as i write lmao.

chapter 5:

oh hey! this is the first appearance of the little glass vial (a little glass vial? A LITTLE GLASS VIAL!!) that tristamp ww was constantly drinking from! aka the biggest death flag known to man. i was wondering when we'd see them.

also, ww is finally being honest and telling vash about himself...! :') it's all stuff i already knew from watching stampede, but still... it's rough. and the way stamp adapted it made it even more horrific and grotesque. ww looks, idk, around 14 or so? he was robbed of some pretty important years... i think his mind has more or less caught up to his body by now, but even if he wasn't a victim of experimentation, his childhood would've been cut short either way. it was already cut short the moment he was given a gun...

JUST HOW MANY WW DEATH FAKEOUTS ARE THERE GONNA BE. YOU CAN'T FOOL ME WITH THEM. two within a few pages of each other... is anyone keeping a tally?

VASH BLANKIE MODE!!! he even has slippies on... :') he's cozy

also wolfwood burrito :')

AND OH, MARLON'S BACK TOO!! i didn't expect to see him again, i'm just as happy as vash that he's here, lol. so many old characters coming back! and oh, meryl... :') they haven't seen each other since that day, and maybe vash thought she never wanted to see him again... this small gesture of hers was a massive relief to him. no words needed.

chapter 6:

okay since this is a spinoff/bonus chapter how are we counting the numeration. is this chapter 51. the trigun wiki says it's 50.5 but i know the wiki sucks ass so... (not like it matters...)

simple yet effective way of telling us roughly when this takes place - this was before he met vash. i love how this is where he got his "priest" schtick from, just... rolling with maylene's assumption and then carrying on with it lol.

this just hurts, especially coming right after ww's flashback. his life was put on rails the moment EoM took him.

ALSO BABY WW SOOOOOOOO CUTE

MY SON

ehhh... i don't really have that much to say about this chapter that hasn't been said already... it's an interesting look at ww pre-vash. and the villain is annoying lol

there's a lot that can be said of this chapter and ww's views on freedom, and i think other people have already done that better than me. but this panel sums up his priorities very concisely. no regard for his own wishes, doing as he's told, going "quietly" along... it's better inside the cage.

ummmm. i'm not ready for volume 9.

#trigunbookclub #trigun talk #june speaks #it's 3:30am goodnight

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jaetaimjadore · 2 years

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painting by your words | l.ty [teaser]

Pairing: Lee Taeyong x reader

Genre: strangers to lovers, artist!reader, aspiring poet but actually conglomerate heir!Taeyong, fluff, angst, university au, PG-15, more tba

Warnings: angst, profanity, kissing, food, alcohol consumption, sexual references (nothing explicit), family drama, more tba

Teaser word count: 1.3k (let's all pray the real thing stays under 30k though ^-^)

Moodboard: [view here]

A/n: hELP i know this teaser is completely unexpected, but i just! had! to!!! another taeyong fic but wbk i just can't help myself, heh. honestly not too sure when this is going to be finished, but please do dm or send an ask if you would like to be added to the taglist <;33

Curiosity finds you much too eagerly as you step inside to a captivating little space of trickling water fountains, sculpted bushes with even more tiny white blooms, and a grand assortment of vibrant trees and shrubs that flourish with every blink of your eyes. Amidst it all you find a stone bench – something you suppose would otherwise have served useful to a bride and groom during a photoshoot. You plant yourself on it with a sigh, placing the bouquet beside you, chin tilting upward to view the reception from your faraway place.

It’s a shame, really. The wedding itself was one of the most elaborate and stunning events you had ever attended. It was nice to see so many happy people in one place and a bride and groom who were so truly and obviously in love with each other. If it weren’t for the stampede of irked women tailing your every step, you would have been up there right now, probably acquainting yourself with the buffet while your parents tried to introduce you to some random person you had never known, but who somehow knew you. It usually wasn’t the most enjoyable way to spend your time, but you didn’t mind meeting a few new faces if it meant you could quietly admire the evening as it happened.

Of course, you weren’t able to do that, which is why you find yourself admiring it from your tucked-away place in this garden…though you still really can’t seem to understand the significance of a few flowers bound by a pretty string.

Did people really believe in that stuff?

Your thoughts are interrupted by the glimmer of light near the archway, and as you look ahead, you’re met with golden beams flickering to life one by one along the pathway, stopping by your feet before blooming among the greenery all around you.

Your gaze ripples through the garden once more, now completely awestruck by its sudden and overwhelming glow as you follow each bulb as if they were connected by some invisible string only you could see.

And then a figure emerges from behind the arch, stepping underneath it.

It’s a man, whose head curiously looks around before freezing in place, a surprised expression taking over his features as he sees you sitting on the bench staring back at him with the same look of bewilderment. You notice the way his eyes dart to the large bouquet beside you, his expression then relaxing and hands casually slipping into his pant pockets as he steps forward, once again busying his focus with the surrounding lights.

From what you can tell, he has dark brown hair that could almost pass for black, and like most other men back up on the terrace, he wears a black fitted suit on top of white cocktail shirt, a boutonniere of tiny blue and white flowers pinned to the left lapel of his blazer.

And, oh.

He’s also exceedingly handsome.

Your eyes follow the man’s brazen pathway forward, eventually halting to your right where he sits down on the bench, the bouquet and a beat of silence now the only things resting between the two of you.

“Congratulations,” he speaks, and it’s a completely unexpected sound to what you had started to think would fall from his mouth. You turn to him, thoroughly confused why he’s even speaking to you at all, and upon seeing his dashing side profile, you think you would have blushed if wasn’t for that same greeting that’s directed at you for the…

And that make’s twenty-one.

Right, the twenty-first time this night.

“What? You mean this?” you mutter, lifting the bouquet and inspecting it for a second, its plastic covering crumpling obnoxiously in your palm. “Pfff.” You toss it to the ground without another thought, watching disinterestedly as it lands by one of your unstrapped heels, before turning back to the stranger who now has a scandalised look twisted through his otherwise striking features.

“I don’t believe in the whole bouquet catching thing,” you reply smoothly, feeling refreshingly satisfied with your little act of rebellion and the comical reaction it had pulled from the man.

He only raises a brow in response to your words, an amused quirk finding his mouth with a small tilt of the head. “Why stand in the crowd in the first place then?”

“Who are you again?” This time it’s your turn to raise a brow and shoot forth a question, half in hope of evading his question, and half out of a genuine curiosity to know more about this enigmatic specimen of a stranger.

“I believe in it.” He simply ignores you, rather speaking his words with a sort of whimsical look to his features, as if they were the most natural piece of speech that could be spoken.

You’re not exactly sure how to respond save for a few empty blinks in his direction, finding it rather droll that despite all the questions roaming the corners of your mind – Who is this guy? What is he doing here planted beside me? Why the heck is he professing his superstitions to a complete stranger? – you still reckon something about him all too intriguing to simply stand up and walk away.

Surely, he wasn’t plain crazy to have just come and sat beside you out of the blue in this isolated garden two storeys below the actual wedding reception…

…was he?

“Why?” you ask quietly, pushing aside all your absurd thoughts before they get the better of you, and turning back to eye the wilting petals on the ground. “They're just…a bunch of flowers.”

“Yeah, well,” the man leans over to pick up the bouquet, straightening out the plastic and rearranging a few stems before plucking out a single red rose from the vibrant array, twirling it gently between his fingers. “I like to think that each flower has some sort of meaning to it. You know, like, perhaps each one represents the number of weeks until you meet your life partner. Or maybe each thorn stands for the number of exes you’ll have before you get married, or…”

He pauses, voice fading into a dwindling nothingness, his head double-taking to find a thoroughly weirded out expression plastered across your face as you look down to the rose in his hand, counting thirteen whole thorns on its stem alone.

Thirteen exes?

He’s definitely crazy, Y/n. Now’s your chance to run, prods your inner, most rational voice. But as unhinged as the man’s theories fare, you still can’t seem to evade the certain fascination that creeps up on you after listening to his peculiar little spiel; how he truly seemed to be in his element while spewing out what you'd otherwise label as cryptic nonsense.

After all, it isn’t every day that you meet someone with such an unorthodox way of thinking, and you slowly come to realise that, for the first time this night, somebody has finally managed to have caught your attention.

Immediately clamping his mouth shut, the man opts out of speaking any further, rather ducking his chin to his chest and grimacing at himself awkwardly. You find the guy strangely relatable all of a sudden – perhaps even endearing – not taking your eyes off him and watching intently as he once again turns back to you, offering forth an equally as awkward hand.

“I’m Taeyong…and that was my sad attempt at small talk.”

You simply smile at him, the defeated tone of his words pulling a small chuckle from you as you reach forward and accept his hand in your own.

“Y/n,” you reply, gently shaking it, “and that was probably the most interesting conversation I’ve had all night.”

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