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gamerbot-22 · 3 hours ago

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🥀Submission🍭

Contains: Vashwood of a sort, between episodes (Ep 9 MILLIONS KNIVES & Ep 10 Humanity), sacrificial lamb allegory, Wolfwood is bullying Vash, wrestling, fighting, nosebleed (non-sexual), guilt, Livio haunts the narrative and Nicholas, me being pretentious about what I call Wolfwood in any given line, hurt/some comfort.

Word Count: 3,376

A/N: Hiii I'm still writing! Promise! I wrote this as a submission for the Final Frontier Vashwood zine and while I didn't get accepted as a main writer, I did get on as a spot writer! And I'm proud of myself for applying in the first place! It also gave me an excuse to finally write these two properly, which like... I've shockingly never done before despite Trigun being my personality since I watched the show. I spent a lot of time working on this, trying to hit a vibe, and I have. A lot of thoughts about what went into it but you've heard me ramble for long enough lol-- Maybe I'll find the time to write something more chipper for Pride Month

Likes and Reblogs appreciated (reblogs > likes) and Requests are Open! Read this story on Ao3 here! Buy me a Ko-Fi here!

The dividers in this post were made by @/strangergraphics ☆

Never in Nicholas' life has he seen a pair of tomas run so fast. Maybe he's feeling it especially because he could only keep one hand on the reins -- damn Punisher was too big to be tied down to anything so there goes one hand -- but the ride is about as rough as it got, charging over sand and stone under the cloak of night. The birds keep their heads as low as they can as their wide feet pound the sand beneath them, beating the loose grains into submission before pushing off just as fast, propelling through the freezing desert night like two bullets shot from the same gun, heading for the same target.

Nicholas hadn't doubted Brad when he said Vash was tough before they packed up and left — not when he's seen shadows of that resolve firsthand just a handful of hours ago — but the side of Vash he's riding with now is different than the ones from before. He has his head just about as low as the tomas he's riding, focused on the horizon as they make the insane race to JuLai. It's a foreign look in his usually soft blue eyes, but he still manages to carry that stubborn resolve. There's no stopping him from going right into The Eye of Michael's trap.

It was an underhanded trick to get Meryl and Roberto swept up in this, and even crueler to have Zazie and their swarm pluck them from that SHIP’s garden, but Nicholas isn’t surprised. The innocent always make good targets when you want people to fall in line. That’s why they’re The Eye’s favorite. There’s no clearer way to get the sacrificial lamb to slaughter than to send its friends ahead.

And a part of Nicholas, the part that just wants this goddamn road trip to be over and done with, knows that this is supposed to be a victory. He had been told to lead this lamb to slaughter and not only was it going willingly, it was running full speed towards it. He's quite literally hours away from the bag, and then Nicholas can be free of this hell of a “greater calling” he's been thrown into.

But of course, the other side of him has to chime in, too, all quiet and empathetic and worst of all -- right. The only reason this lamb is running is because it thinks it has a chance at a Tomorrow. Maybe not its own tomorrow -- Heaven knows Vash doesn't care about that– but the tomorrows of two people he's crazy enough to consider friends. Hell, and even if those nosy reporters weren't his friends, Vash would still be moving this fast. Just yesterday, he threw his own neck on the line to save a town full of strangers just because they were in danger, and before that, he was willing to die at the hands of a monster just because he felt guilty about a promise he shouldn't have made in the first place.

Brad said Vash was tough, sure, but that doesn’t change the fact that he's also soft as hell. Even though he's smart enough to know this whole thing is a trap to get him in JuLai, he's still throwing himself into it.

And goddamnit, Nicholas just can't stand to let it be this easy.

"Will you slow it down?!" Wolfwood shouts, just loud enough to be heard clearly over the sound of the tomas' footsteps on the sand.

Vash doesn't even acknowledge him.

He growls, then shouts louder. "Hey, d'you hear me, Spikey?!"

Not even a twitch in his neck. Vash and his tomas just keep rushing forwards, leaving Nicholas trailing behind in the dust. Fine. He's tired of being nice.

"This is a dumb plan, Needle-Noggin'!" He tightens his hold on his tomas' reins, squeezing the bird's body between his thighs in a ploy to keep from going ass-over-tea-kettle into the desert. "You know this is just what your brother wants!"

Lambs shouldn't go to the slaughter this quietly. They're supposed to tug and pull at the lead around their neck, bleating and begging.

"You know, Good Ol' Drunkle and the little lady are probably dead by now!"

A loud memory, a new memory, tugs at Wolfwood's mind. He shoves it aside to keep shouting.

"Or, you know, they could just be waiting to kill them in front of you! Once they've served their purpose!"

Vash is no help. He's still staring dead ahead at a city that's lights are barely becoming a speck on the horizon. Clearly, he's not going to let himself be reasoned with, so it's back on Nicholas to keep his mind on something other than that empty hole in his chest.

The smell of blood, the sound of an echoing gunshot. He holds onto the leather straps wrapped around his weapon, less praying for and more demanding that the image of familiar eyes going blank would come back and haunt him later.

Nicholas tries to summon up something, but before he can even get the wisps of smoke for some new train of thought, he's jolted. He suddenly notices the shallow rattle echoing from beneath the tomas' masks. They can't pant, but they're trying to, and he can see now that they're beginning to raise their feathers, flaring out in a desperate attempt to cool their bodies down without stopping. They've been running at full speed for what has to have been hours at this point. If they go on like this for much longer, they'll--

That’s it.

Wolfwood takes a deep breath in, not caring how the sharp night air cuts into his lungs before hollering out in one last attempt to get Vash to even just look back.

" WILL YOU STOP, NEEDLE-NOGGIN'?! YOU'RE GONNA KILL THAT TOMAS! "

Vash pulls the reins back so far, he almost has the tomas' head against his chest as it comes to a screeching halt. He didn't even think about it, it was just pure instinct, the moment he heard that word.

The stop is so sudden that Wolfwood almost comes barreling into his back, but he manages to steer his bird aside at the very last second, guiding it forward a few strides before it comes to a stop. And the moment his tomas is still enough, Nicholas is off his saddle, letting both Punisher and mount collapse into the sand in exhaustion while rider marches back unimpeded.

Vash is still on his mount’s back, rigid as a statue while his bird is bow-legged and huffing under his weight, head hanging low as Vash keeps his gaze turned to the horizon. He doesn't notice Nicholas' approach until the undertaker has him by the back of his jacket. Then, in one swift motion, Vash is tossed to the ground, thrown as easily from his saddle as if he was nothing but a rag doll.

Wolfwood quickly stands over him, cast in pure shadow against the night sky, blocking out the stars. He lets out a harsh breath, the resulting cloud of fog drifting away into nothing just as quickly as it came. The sight doesn't scare Vash, it only makes him pause before he tries to right himself.

"Stay down."

"No." Vash makes it from his back to his side, propping himself up on his prosthetic so he can get his legs ready to push up. Their mounts might be spent, but he's got the energy, as well as the experience. Running the rest of the way will be nothing to him.

He feels Wolfwood's shoe against his lower back, pushing down just enough to cause pressure, a threat of more force if he doesn't obey. "I said, stay down, Spikey. "

Vash stills, but it's not in submission. No, Wolfwood knows better than that. He can see the tension in this so-called lamb's shoulders, his muscles tight under all that fleece he likes to hide himself under. Still, a lamb's a lamb. He can pout and fight all he wants about having to wait for the slaughterhouse, but Wolfwood won't let him go without a fight.

He can't have another dull pair of eyes haunting him. Not so soon, at least. Vash could beat him, if he tries.

"We have to get to JuLai," Vash nearly whispers, voice tight as a noose around the both of them. "There's still a chance."

"You and what mount?" Nicholas shoves a hand into his jacket pocket, fishing out a cigarette bent from the rough ride. He sticks it between his lips as he goes for his lighter, gesturing it towards the two tomases. His own is still laying sideways in the sand, ribs rising and falling with each breath as the other drags itself to rest beside it, only half-tucking its long legs beneath its blue-green feathers. Wolfwood’s eyes linger on the two familiar birds for a moment, then flicker to his lighter, already pinched between his forefinger and thumb in preparation for that trick he made up God knows how long ago.

Goddamnit.

He shoves his lighter back in his pocket, leaving the cigarette in his mouth unlit while he pushes more of his weight onto Vash's back. "They've been running for hours. They're not machines. And neither are you."

Nicholas had expected Vash to do what he always did in the face of such harshness. He'll just roll over and show his stomach -- for real this time -- and lay there with that same soft, sad look in his eyes that he gets when he feels guilty.

What happens instead is that when Vash rolls, it's much faster, and when his face is turned skyward, meeting Wolfwood's gaze, the undertaker isn't greeted with that tender look onboard the sand steamer but the rage from after the fight with Monev at the Windmill Village. Rage that's been honed down to a singular point as the glass-like fingers of Vash’s prosthetic grab hold of Wolfwood's ankle and pull hard, hauling the undertaker into the sand alongside him before Vash makes another mad dash to try and get to his feet. Nicholas is quick too, though, and before Vash can even get up off of one knee, Nicholas has his arms around Vash's center, hauling him back down to the ground in a heap of red.

"I said, stay down! " He braces as Vash starts to try and wrestle free, unwieldy as he’s all gangly legs and strong arms, rolling this way and that in the coarse sand.

"The tomas can rest! I can make it the rest of the way on my own!" Vash tries to jam his fingers under Wolfwood's hand, trying to pry him off of his stomach, but to no avail, even with the strength of his prosthetic.

Wolfwood drags himself higher onto Vash's back, the both of them kicking up loose sand in some desperate attempt at finding a foothold before the other one could. Just one solid thing would be enough to turn the tides, but No Man's Land will never be that easy.

"Did you hit your head when I threw you down?" He grits out, finally letting his busted-up cigarette fall away, disappearing in the shuffle. "You'll just drop dead instead, and then where would you be?"

Vash gives up on a foothold or trying to pry Wolfwood off of him. He writhes like an insect, using every segment of his body to reach for the dunes ahead of him. "There's still a chance to save them all! Even if I have to drag myself all the way there!" He clutches at the loose ground beneath him, and through sheer force of will, he manages to drag both him and his unwilling cargo maybe a foot forwards.

"You're insane! Why do you even care?!" Wolfwood almost growls. He can feel Vash already running out of steam, although it's happening a lot faster than he thought it might. "They knew what they were signing up for when they decided to haul around 'The Humanoid Typhoon!'"

Vash claws at the sand, raking through each loose grain as he fights for each breath. "They're my friends! My family! I can't just let them destroy each other!" The stars on the horizon are starting to blur for him now, and the extra weight on his back is doing nothing for the tight feeling inside his chest.

"Your family? " Nicholas has to fight back a laugh. "Those reporters are just collateral to your brother! And you're so goddamn gun shy, what are you gonna do when you get there and they're already dead? Cry at him? "

"You don't know if they're dead!"

"They're as good as it!" Wolfwood lunges, laying flat on Vash's back now to get a grasp on his wrist, holding him in a near crushing grasp. This is it. This is the fight he's looking for, even if it's not the reason he wants out of this lamb.

And damn, does he fight. The moment Wolfwood's fingers close around Vash's wrist, he rolls again, swiftly pinning the undertaker down on his back in a ploy to turn the tables. It almost works, but Nicholas has wrestled bigger, meaner rams than the cotton ball cloud in his arms. Vash can't even take the breath to prepare himself to break free with how tightly Wolfwood is holding onto him.

"That's what you said about the orphanage! On the Steamer--" Vash can feel the same sting in his eyes and chest now, like ice piercing his heart as he fights for air, for a chance to fix this before it's too late. "That there was no other way--"

"That was one time! " Wolfwood snarled. "One time it worked! Even the chances of getting them out at a million to one!"

"I have to try! " Vash rolls onto his stomach, trying to shake Wolfwood off, but he fails.

"No, you don’t! " Wolfwood digs his knees into the ground, crushing his weight down onto Vash. The noise that’s forced out is a desperate bleat, half a sob and half a cry for air.

"Yes, I do--!" the lamb gasps, painfully aware that an agonizing end of some kind is waiting for him on the horizon regardless of the outcome. He'll fight against it and hope, because it's all he can do, but pinned here in the sand, he can't ignore the risk as easily as he usually can. "I have to save them! All of them--!"

" Why, Vash?! " Wolfwood barks out his final demand, the one at the foundation of all of this. "Even if Meryl and Roberto are still alive, why do you want to save all of them?! It was your brother that did this! That took them away! How do you know he can be saved?!"

"I don't!" Vash raises his head from the ground in one last attempt at defiance, the back of his skull crashing into Wolfwood's hooked nose as he cries out. " But what kind of a brother am I if I don't try?! "

Nicholas groans, letting go of Vash to hold his nose. The sudden strike is enough to make his ears ring, echoing throughout his bones like the old bell that hung over the Hopeland Orphanage. The reverberations carry memories to his mind, coming straight from the deepest recesses of his mind, the ones he's been trying so hard to ignore now that the person he shared them with is... gone. Laying on his back here, staring at the sky... he can almost feel the weight of Livio's head on his stomach, with his little hands balled up in Nico's shirt, holding onto him so tight even in his dreams. It's like Nico could just reach down and feel his brother's soft hair, simple as that. Maybe, if he’d been able to fight as hard as Vash is now…

Wolfwood is pretty sure his nose is bleeding.

Vash takes his first breath of air since Wolfwood tackled him, the tears that had gathered in his eyes finally falling down his cheeks and then disappearing, drying out from the shock of what he's done. He stares, like an animal in headlights, as Nicholas' thick eyebrows tighten, knitting agony and anger and grief into his face.

Vash pushes onto his knees, scrambling to Wolfwood's side with his hands out, ready to do... something, anything, to help, the fight entirely forgotten. He reaches to lift Nicholas' head, but hesitates, stopping just short of cupping his dark hair in his hands.

Every single time Vash has tried to save someone, they get hurt. No matter what he tries to do, there's always pain, following him around like a ghost just to taint every person he dares to even look at, let alone get close to. It's the case with Tonis and the people of Jeneora Rock, to Rollo in the Windmill Village, to... Rem, and the other researchers onboard the ship, as well as all of their sisters...

And now it was happening to Meryl and Roberto… and even Wolfwood.

Still, if Vash can't help others, he surely can't help himself.

"Are you okay...?" All of the furious passion is gone from him, replaced by that timid, even sheepish tone he normally speaks in.

Wolfwood growls back, but nods, eyes still squeezed shut.

"I'm sorry, Wolfwood, I didn't mean t--"

"Save it, Needle-Noggin'." Sure enough, when Wolfwood pulls his hand away to point at Vash, there's blood running from one of his nostrils. "Don't apologize for finally showing some goddamn spine."

Vash sighs, offering a hint of a smile to match the hint of a compliment inside that biting remark.

Nicholas keeps his head tilted back, remembering from somewhere that that's what you're supposed to do when your nose is bleeding. He could just fix it, heal it in an instant, but... it feels like a waste. And it's his own damn fault for bullying a ram like Vash and thinking he’d walk away unhurt.

Without anything easy to say, the two men turn their gaze to the sky, looking up at the distant stars as they twinkle and shine, cold and unfeeling to what's happening beneath them but still so beautiful. It's a waste to have a sky like that on a night like this, when they're both too in pain to enjoy it.

The urge to make a break for JuLai hasn't left Vash -- in fact, it's only gotten worse now that he and Wolfwood have been sitting in silence for this long -- but he remains still, gaze shifting from the stars to Nicholas and back, running over every possible plan he can think of for how to get Meryl and Roberto out of there, and how he can get through to his brother. He's thinking so loud that it's not even surprising when Wolfwood speaks again.

"Tomas... are hardy birds," Wolfwood says, head still tilted back. He gestures towards where he thinks the tomas are, and sure enough, in the vague direction Wolfwood is pointing, the both of them have caught their breath and are sitting by the Punisher, which will never get the luxury. "They'll be ready to run in a little while. 'Till then... catch your own damn breath. And keep your head on right. We're gonna need it."

Vash blinks. "We... You're still coming with me to JuLai?"

"Only to make sure you get there in one piece," he grumbles, and finally some of the muscles in his shoulders relax. "Maybe see the little lady and Drunkle out once you're on your way up to see your brother." Then his job will be over.

Vash's heart swells in his chest, almost big enough to steal his breath away as he gazes down at Wolfwood, still aching in the sand but a little less now that he’s had time and space. It'll hurt more now to lead such a good lamb to die, but... at least Wolfwood knows why he's being so good about it now. It's all for his family. For Roberto, and Meryl, and even for his brother. That part he can understand.

"Thank you, Wolfwood." The lamb's voice is as soft as it's ever been.

"Quit thanking me, too." The undertaker wipes what's left of building tears away. "It won't do you any good."

#Rosie Writes #Vash the Stampede #Nicholas D. Wolfwood #Vashwood #of a sort #Trigun #Trigun Stampede #Trigun Stampede fanfic #Trigun fanfic #Ao3 #Ao3 Writer

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