#i can share her with vash i GUESS

[frogenthusiastt]

HI ILY

8 for the writing prompt :)

8: Sunbathing

The early morning is still.

The dunes are faded amber in the early hour, like they haven't yet remembered how to be real. Vash has always appreciated the liminality of this time, when the first sun has just returned and most people are still asleep. Very few times has danger found him when anyone with a gun is still in bed working off their inebriation, and greed and violence has not yet taken shape on the tip of their tongues.

He watches the scenery come to life from underneath the cliff he's perched on, breathing in the air on just the right side of cool and letting the world breathe its life back into him. He feels limitless, like the borders of his body is still about as tangible as the breaking of light against the horizon.

Wolfwood has never understood his predilection towards early hours. He's always been the type of man to come alive in the evening, suddenly setting out to do tasks or getting engrossed in a book or sharing a beer or ten. Whenever Vash wants to ask him for a favor he knows to do it after 6 pm and it'll cut the otherwise lengthy process in half. For all that he loves to bitch and moan to the point Vash suspects it's just some complicated form of affection at this point, sometimes it's nice to just get straight to the point.

It's just before 5 am right now, and Vash knows Wolfwood will probably threaten to do bodily harm if he so much as breathes in his direction for the next 4 hours, but Vash is content to just sit here and breathe in time and pale light and let himself be until that time comes.

That's another thing Wolfwood has never understood about him. One of the parts he does his darnedest to hide in order to not make people uncomfortable. You know, he'd told him once, you can sit really still when you don't think anyone sees you. It's like you– I don't know, you zone out for a moment and suddenly it's like you're not really there anymore.

Vash had laughed him off, told him he shouldn't fault a man for getting stiff at his old age. He doesn't know how to explain this, that if he silences the motion of his body he can hear the rest of the world singing back to him.

Vash puts a hand on the ground and feels the red rust of desert patina in the back of his mouth. Further down, further than that it's years and years of basalt, interlaced with streaks of quartz and tourmaline and calcium tungstate sleeping in the shadowy depths of the planet. It tastes like salt licorice, coats his gums in salty film and makes him feel cool and sturdy and safe.

When he breathes in he can feel the nitrogen and oxygen molecules tumbling in their usual fervent skirmish, dancing around each other and rolling around in his lungs, in his bloodstream. Carbon dioxide comes in with its delightful sweetness, tasting of joy and life and flushing his cheeks red. Methane and ozone taste metallic, buzzing sharp-slap that remind him of his brother.

And then, joyous of all, is the sun now coming in with its loving weight, dousing his limbs and his body and his mind in warm golden love. Vash breathes in slow, breathes out even slower and lets himself indulge in this cycle his body desperately craves, more than any water or food. The sun loves him, the sun has always loved him and cared for him and nurtured him, from the moment he was born and a little before that still.

The vibrating hot fills his bloodstream in a rush and his eyelids droop closed, lets the thinnest expanses of skin drink up the electromagnetic affection from his face, his neck, his wrists, the soles of his feet. It's hard to think like this, when the sun is in him and around him and making him drowsy and giddy and excited and calm. This is probably what drugs feel like to humans, something that had confused him when he was young and had tried them for the first time. The blissed out faces of people dancing and singing and kissing had confused him, then, when all he tasted was 3,4-methylenedioxy-N-methylamphetamine and 3,4-methylene-dioxyprovalerone and bath salts, but later it had clicked, on a morning just like this one.

Vash breathes in and it's love-love-love, pure and unfiltered, golden and sultry and dripping down his veins like honey. The sun is in him and its child watches from her skirts and his bones feel aligned for the first time in a long time, like something in him has shifted just slightly to the left and everything had been fine all along.

Time drips from an olive branch, heavy and languid. Wind jostles his hair and sends ripples against the fine hairs on his arms, wakes his nerves up with sparks, reminds him of the outside world. He opens his eyes slowly, adjusting back over the imprints of light still dancing across his sclera.

Two ladies are making their way across the main street, hair perfectly fixed and chattering amongst themselves. Escorts, probably. Vash can see no other reason why someone would look so presentable at this time of day. A couple of construction workers have gathered at the saloons, fixing themselves some coffee before their labor begins. He regards them all fondly, the well oiled machine in how they move around each other like a song and dance, the murmur of their greetings and the pat-pat-pat of their feet against the ground.

One lady makes her way from the hotel they had been staying at, russet hair bouncing as she walks with purpose and– oh that's Meryl. She's walking straight towards him, even though he doubts she can see him from here. It's always been an uncanny ability of hers, the way she can figure anyone out from the moment she meets them: what their favorite flavor of ice cream is, how they like to sleep, where they're most likely to be at just shy of 6 am in the morning. Vash works motion back into his body as she makes her way up the hill, willing the glow of his skin back into something more standard for a human man. He's not surprised when she comes up to sit next to him. Maybe that's why she understands people so well - she always makes sure to be placed at their level, always makes sure to look people in the eye.

"Morning Mr Vash," she says kindly.

"Morning," he replies.

She turns to look out the postcard view in front of them. "Oh wow, that's a mighty beautiful sight! I can see all the people of town from up here."

He smiles. He knew she'd get it. "Yeah."

They sit in amicable silence for a few minutes, basking in the sunlight, knees knocking together. She hums a tune he hasn't heart before. He listens.

After a few minutes she stretches and yawns, standing back up and patting the dust of her skirt with a firm pat pat. "Would you like to join me for breakfast? Food always tastes better with company."

He takes her outstretched hand, feels the warmth of it as he stands.

"Yeah. I'd like that."

[whirlwindimagines]

I just had an idea for a cute vash x reader story. The reader shares some of her chapstick with vash by kissing him, and he gets all flustered by it 👀

This is cute~ <3 I love a flustered Vash! 

‘Ended up with a pair of cracked lips’

Vash x Reader

He is staring has been for a while at least, you look up giving Vash a light smile that causes him to flush, and you hold back a laugh as you go back to what you were doing. It was just you and Vash in the car, the others opting to stretch their legs, you didn't need to you, being just hot.

Living in a desert had so many downsides, not that you’ve known anything else. Constantly being hot, the sand everywhere, and the cracked lips. You couldn't believe you found the tube of Chapstick in your pack, fearing you ran out. With a pocket mirror, you had been applying it slowly catching Vash’s stare every once in a while. Once you finished you spoke, “What's wrong? You’ve been staring at me for a while now.” 

“It's nothing!” Vash said the words tumbling out, he moved to rub the back of his head with a soft laugh, you just raised your brow at him, he seemed flustered for some reason. “Are you sure?” You asked concerned, but he waves you off. “Maybe the heat is getting to me.” you let out a hum, moving closer to him, hearing him take a sharp intake of breath as you do. 

“Well, you do look a little red in the face.” You tease lightly not being able to help yourself. He lets out a nervous sound, not really a laugh or a cough. Just because you can, and Vash won't stop you unless he’s uncomfortable, you grab his chin forcing him to look towards you. “The heat has been brutal today; your lips are a little chapped too? Want some.” You holding up the Chapstick.

You can tell Vash is very flustered, he just nods as you let out a little ‘hum’ smirking as you drop the Chapstick, and falls somewhere on the floor he looks confused, as you cup his face and slams your lips to his. He makes an adorable noise of surprise, and you can't help but smile into the kiss. 

He relaxes and leans into it, you pull back with a smirk, “You always act like I guess you like it's the first time” You tease, rubbing your thumb against his lips and rubbing the Chapstick. Vash whines, “I can't help it!” you pat his cheek gently leaning back, as you can't help but just laugh. “So adorable”

He covers his face with his hands, but you can see how red it is, “Here.” you say picking up the Chapstick, and handing it to him, peeking between his fingers he takes it from your hand. You figure he’s going to use it. Instead, he gives you a sly look, that makes you blush. Before you can think, he grabs you by the back of the neck and connects your lips again. 

You let out a muffled ‘eep!’ when he licks your lips, pulling back with a playful smirk, and holds up the Chapstick to you, “I think you might need to reapply this.” You look at him, eyes wide. You can't believe he did something so bold to you. “Vash! -” you start to stutter, he opens the tube of Chapstick and uses it on his own lips, leaning down and pecking you on the lips. “There you go!” 

His eyes are shining, and while your blush darkens against your skin you still manage a laugh. Leaning into him, “Now who is being a tease” he rests his cheek on top of your head, with a small laugh. “Your reactions are adorable.” he says repeating your own words back at you, with a ‘huff’ you roll your eyes, but you can't stay mad at his sweet face, especially with all the kisses. You’ll have to apply Chapstick more often.

[trigunwritings]

Because that’s what love is

Summary: Only one bed. But too many bullets.

Rating: Teen

Relationship: GN!Reader/Vash

Written by @blood--hunter

As with with everything in No Man’s Land the inn room is cramped and sweltering. Even with the slowly setting sun, the heat does little to abade. Not until the moons rise will it subside, and then the cold will come thundering in, causing whomever is left out in the desert to find a way to warm themselves in the caustic environment.

But not you. Not tonight.

Tonight you are safe in a little room on the edge of nowhere.

With Vash as a roommate.

Okay, maybe more than a roommate.

Whatever was going on between you two had lasted for several weeks at this point. There was a sort of—a sort of tension? Small touches of the shoulder. A gentelness to the eyes. A warmth to the cheeks that wasn’t caused by the sun.

It was so thick that the others had started to take notice over the past few days.

Roberto would roll his eyes whenever Vash said your name in that special way of his and Meryl tried to ignore in completely. She would stammer and turn her eyes away whenever the two of you got too close.

Wolfwood however ... Wolfwood was another matter.

He had been the one to set up the room accommodations. Everyone had gotten their own... Save for you and Vash.

The two of you were to share a single, tiny bed because of him.

When confronted, Wolfwood had simply hefted his gun higher on his back, cigarette coming dangerously close to falling from his lips as he smiled at you.

“What? You two are together, ain’t’chya?”

The silence that had fallen had been his answer.

“Well ... guess not.” And he had walked away as if he hadn’t blurted out what everyone had been thinking. Your face had been so warm that you thought it might explode—burst into flames even—but you had managed to scramble up the stairs with what was left of your dignity and stumble into the room.

And here you were. Deciding whether or not you should go out to the car and sleep in the back seat like you had been doing for the past several days.

No! You weren’t a child! You would face this like an adult!

You jump. There’s a knock at the door and Vash peeks his head in.

“Hey,” he says, though, with how well you know him, you can sense the tension in his voice, “Heard we were bunking together tonight!”

There’s a forced cheeriness to his voice and you find yourself swallowing at it.

So he’s just as nervous as you.

“Yeah!” Oh god, you sound just like him now, “I figured I could sleep on the floor and-”

“No way! I can sleep on the floor, it’s not a problem.” He waves his hand in front of his face, dropping his bag beside the door. Next, he takes off his red hoodie, hanging it on the little hook beside said door.

The bed itself was small, no way two people could lay on it super comfortably. But neither of you were going to give up easily.

“Here,” you say, “I’ll take a shower and then you can get set up on the bed and—”

“-No!”

“—Then it’ll be fair!”

Vash pouts visibly at you, but you’re already on your way through the door to the bathroom and closing it behind you before he can argue further.

Several minutes pass of you washing yourself, getting cleaned of all the sand and dirt that could pile onto you while on the desert. It takes ages of scrubbing but after a while you can see your natural skin color again and it satisfies you enough to get out of the tub.

Problem. Your stuff and Vash’s stuff were mixed together in his bag. The one by the door.

You could bang your head against a wall. You’d been so quick to get to the bathroom before Vash you hadn’t grabbed a different set of clothes.

Okay. Be an adult about this.

Wrapping the towel securely around yourself you peek your head out of the door.

“Hey Vash can—“

The words get stuck in your throat. Vash is half naked in the bedroom, his shirt gone. You can see where the metal of his arm meets the flesh of his body. There are scars littered across him. Some are so deep and vast they have to be covered with bit of metal. Some almost look like autopsy scars. Some are still raw bullet holes. Had he been taking damage this entire time?

Vash’s head snaps to you, eyes wide and glasses gone.

You both stare at each other for a long time. The silence echoing.

“Can you pass me some clothes?” You finally say, nodding towards the bag.

Vash doesn’t say a word, simply taking the one step towards the bag and digging out some clothes for you. One cannot afford pajamas in the desert, so it’s just another set of day clothes that are relatively clean. You’re grateful when cloth meets your hand and you dive back inside the bathroom, letting the door click shut.

Holy Shit.

You almost vocalize it but Vash could still very well be on the otherside of the door.

You slide down until your butt meets the floor, your elbows resting on your knees.

There should be a miriad of thoughts going through your head. Most of them focused on how absolutely mortifying that situation had been for the both of you.

But instead all you can think of is if Vash has been hiding the bullets from you. Had he been hurt this whole time? Some of those wounds had looked fresh.

Your thoughts swirl for a few minutes more before you become concious of the fact that you should be dressed and out by now. Vash probably thinks you’re hiding from him, that you’re disgusted by him. The thought makes you hop up from the floor and slap your clothes on so quickly you must look like a wreck as you fling open the bathroom door.

“DO YOU NEED A BATH?!”

You cringe. Vash stares at you, now dressed, from the floor. During your time in the bathroom he had made himself a little sleeping spot, several pillows and blankets piled beside the bed.

“Uh,” He scratches at the back of his neck, “Sure?”

Wait. No mention of what you had seen? Was he just going to—

“—Don’t just ignore it!” You squawk in the most undignified tone your voice had ever taken.

Vash chuckles, “Ignore what?” But you can see it in his eyes. There’s a deep sadness behind them that makes the blue just a tiny bit darker.

“...Vash...”

“I think it’s best we move on—”

“—How many?”

“What?”

“How many times have you been shot and not said anything? How many times did you sew yourself back together without anyone noticing?”

The small smile that is ever present on his lips, falls. “Please Vash, just tell me.”

“Too many to count.”

The words hit you like a bullet to the shoulder.

“Oh god—”

Vash holds up a hand, waving it slightly, “But it’s not like I died or anything, really it’s not a—”

“—It is too a big deal! Don’t say it isn’t!”

You should be worried that the others can hear you, your voice thundering through the walls like a clap of lightening, but you can’t, not in this moment. You can see, more than feel, the tears forming at the edge of your periphereal.

And then Vash is there too.

“Hey, c’mon, no need to be worried about a guy like me.”

You manage to speak passed the lump in you throat, “Don’t tell me what to do...” And there it is. You sound like a child stamping their foot instead of a worried friend—or whatever you two were.

Vash uses his thumb to press away the forming tears. “Lets get to bed.”

And that’s how you both find yourselves curled up on the floor together. Neither of you wishes to take the soft mattress from the other so it ends in a stalemate. There is not bumbling this time as you both lay down to sleep, not awkward pauses or stolen glances. The air is thick with something unsaid but neither of you is able to grasp it and bring it down to earth.

In the silence of the night, after your tears have dried but before the cloud of your argument has blown away, Vash turns to you in your sleep.

“I just didn’t want to worry you.”

He presses a piece of hair away from your face so he can see you better in the dim moonlight of the window.

But you would worry anyways, regardless of how much he hid from you.

Because that’s what love is.

[heich0e]

part of the trigun college!au (nai/f!reader)

"What's this one for?"

"Minimizes pores," Meryl replies, blowing on the top coat she'd just painted onto her nails, watching as Vash fiddles with the tiny, travel-sized tube in his hands.

"Why?"

"Because society says so," you chime with a laugh, plucking the face mask from his fingers and dropping it back into the little bag of cosmetics Meryl had brought along with her that afternoon.

"But what's wrong with... maximized pores?" he inquires further as you turn the corner to the sofa and plunk yourself down beside him. "Are they a health risk?"

"No," you reply, shaking your head. "Sometimes they're just big."

"Do I have big pores?" he asks anxiously, like he's worried about something that has never even occurred to him before. You watch from the corner of your gaze as he frets over it quietly. You lock eyes with Meryl, seated on the floor of Vash's living room while she finishes up her manicure, and both of you share a knowing look.

You huff fondly, pulling yourself up to your knees on the sofa and scooting over to crawl into Vash's lap. He's a bit surprised but not concerned by the development, though his eyes do scan your face in confusion when you take his cheeks in your hands and tip his face back into the light. You survey his skin closely, turning his chin this way and that to get a view of all angles of it.

Vash's skin is inordinately smooth, in that frustrating way that boys' skin can be even without the slightest idea as to what skincare is. You squint, and even then you still can't find the faintest hint of a blemish.

"You have really nice skin," you say to him with a pout, so close to him you're almost nose to nose, your thumbs pinching into his cheeks to vent your frustrations on the injustices in the world.

Vash grins in that familiar way that makes his eyes crinkle at the corners, though there's no single shred of evidence of any crows feet forming yet. "Wow, thanks!"

Meryl snorts behind you at his obliviousness.

You keep analyzing his face for a moment–as though some flaw might miraculously make itself known–until you slump forward in defeat, tucking your chin over his shoulder.

"No big pores?" he asks optimistically.

"No big pores," you agree, pulling back so you're sitting face to face atop his lap again.

"What's the problem with big pores anyway? Aren't they kinda harmless?"

You hum, tracing your fingertip along his cheekbone until you reach the little beauty mark under his eyes.

"Yeah, I guess they're just–"

Movement in front of you, on the other side of the living room behind Vash's back, catches your eye. You look up, and lock eyes with Nai–standing in the entrance to the kitchen with his backpack still slung over his shoulder. He'd clearly just returned from class, and he's scowling as your gazes meet over his little brother's shoulder.

"–unsightly."

Nai's lip curls.

"What the hell are you two doing?"

[mydetheturk]

we'll find out if i feel up to putting this anywhere else, but have some post trimax knives and domina???? look, i stopped to think about the fact that domina's the only independent plant we for sure know knives absorbed so i thought "well she should get to haunt knives after everything" and out came. two plants sharing one body because they don't have the energy to make another, i guess??? knives might be dying. neither of them know for certain.

i sure don't.

enjoy?

~~

"He doesn't want to talk to you," Domina says. "Our body flooded with fear upon hearing your voice."

Vash the Stampede sits across from her in this worn out little diner he found them in. Two drinks, rising to room temperature, sit on the table.

To Domina’s inexperienced eye, he looks tired.

[hes been drinking]

[are you sure?]

[yes]

“What do you want?” Domina holds her drink in their hands to not do what Knives would do right now and put a knife through the Stampede’s hand so they can leave. Running is also off the table, as the only exit to the diner is behind Vash the Stampede.

[we can put a hole in the window shatter it with our elbow]

[shut up not yet]

[we can run]

[running will imply things we dont want not yet]

“Well?”

A number of expressions flick across the Stampede’s face before exhaustion settles in like an old lover.

“To talk to my brother,” the Stampede says.

Adrenaline floods their body. It is not Domina’s. She carefully does not think about Knives’ suggestion of shattering the window to run.

Run, and not fight.

It goes against both of their natures.

But Knives is always exhausted and Plants call out for their help in a way that Domina couldn’t hear before. Sometimes their thoughts merge. The urge to run is both hers and not, and this is not how Domina wanted to meet Vash the Stampede.

Domina used to have all of space between herself and that which she feared. She had the power to eliminate them, even though it was locked within her. The Joining revealed that. Now she is the companion to a dying Plant. The tiniest Hive of two, barring when they connect to one of the Sisters.

“No.”

The voice is her but also Knives, blending into harmony.

The Stampede flinches.

“Don’t follow us,” Domina says. She carefully releases the cup before it shatters in their hands and stands up.

And leaves the diner. Vash the Stampede can pay for the meal they haven’t eaten.

Their thomas honks and bumps its head into their chest when Domina unties it from the hitch. She gets on the creature and goes to leave.

“Wait!”

[can’t let us leave in peace]

“What do you want now.” Domina doesn’t look at him, doesn’t look at the face that looks so close to the one she now sees in the mirror.

“I don’t think I’m going to be able to convince you to make him talk to me.”

[hes right]

[hush]

[not for a very long time anyway]

“But… be careful. There are people looking for you.” Vash sighs and adds, “People looking for you both.”

“Go back to your people, Vash,” Knives says. “Let us go.”

Vash the Stampede sucks in a startled breath.

“A couple of your people survived. The woman with the nails. Wolfwood’s brother.” 

“Zazie.” Their lips curl in a snarl. Betrayal and hurt and a dash of fear simmer under their skin. “Zazie is still around as well. You be careful,” Knives says. He taps the thomas’s side.

“Goodbye, Stampede,” Domina says.

They take off into the early morning sunshine.

Vash lets them go.

[duskpeak]

Vash Headcannons (p1/?)

(As someone who has watched the og anime and the badlands movie) this will also include things that are cannon about vash, it’s just to get a list so I can characterize him better/more consistently.

- vash doesn’t just cry when he’s upset, he cries ALL the time you can’t tell me he doesn’t cry when he laughs just a little too hard

- also he tears up when embarrassed, not all the time but the redder his face is the more likely there are to be tears in his eyes

- he has been called thousands of insults over the years, you will not find a new one, trust me

- on that note pls don’t insult him unless he knows you don’t mean it, better yet just don’t at all my boy does not deserve that🥺

- idk what the hell they were doing in the movie but vash is a hard believer of consent before touching anyone intimately ( there are exceptions like with his friends or in battle) but literally whatever was going on with him taking Amelia’s glove and boot off and rubbing his face against her hand/leg, he would not do that

- on the other hand he absolutely says the shit he says in the movie smh “THEN YOU AND I SHOULD GET OUR LITTLE TAILS BACK TO OUR LOVE NEST! YEE-HAW!” Or like with his first battle with the gung ho guns where he said he could have groped her three times

- big difference in the things he says and the things he’d actually do, a lot of the eyebrow raising stuff he says is just to bring the mood up

- we know his philosophy applies to animals and bugs but he has been shown to eat animals, it’s important to note that he apologizes to the animal before eating them

- someone please tell vash the eggs we eat wouldn’t hatch a baby anyway😭😭😭

- on the topic of food I think he likes sweet stuff, donuts are his favorite but he’s a fan of all pastries

- he shares with the animals around him, even if it’s not a Tomas he was riding (which he especially treats afterwards) this has put him in a number of situations where he is out of food or water or both, this has not stopped him from doing it again

- I’ve seen headcannons where he falls asleep easily in the cold because his plant body isn’t used to it or whatever, I don’t agree especially considering how damn cold it gets at night

- also there ain’t no way he can’t handle extreme temperature shifts at least in terms of being hot, bro walks around in full leather all day (THE DAY GUYS THERES TWO FUCKING SUNS THERE ID LITERALLY DIE)

- however if it’s a modern au I am more open to that idea just because I still like it even if I don’t agree

- he sings!! Even though people have canonically said that he sounds awful I think he can actually sing pretty well when he wants to

- I like to think he knows how to play smaller instruments like an ocarina or castanets

- he probably has a bunch of little skills that he’s developed while traveling, after all theres not much else to do other than look at sand

- loves finding the constellations that people have come up with for this planet, he liked the charts from Earth’s constellations and thinks it’s so cool getting to see people come up with stuff in real time

(There will probably be more parts to come so look forward to that I guess)

[triplesilverstar]

Noodle arms

Rating: 18+ Minors DNI

Pairing: Vash X F!Reader

CW: teasing, mentions of periods

Word count: 2.5K 

A/N: Luida gave you a small present and you can't wait to tease a certain well built blond with said present. Sucks to be Vash right now.

I wrote part of this ages ago and I still love it. So I hope you all enjoy it too.

Wandering the ship and glancing at the object Luida had given you just a scant few minutes ago, you feel like you’re moving on auto-pilot, Meryl calls out to you and you don’t even notice. A sappy grin paints your features every time you glance down at the item as you head back to your shared room after finishing in the infirmary with Luida.  

“What’s with that stupid look on her face?” slips from Meryl as she lowers her hand, eyes a little downcast. 

“That” Roberto straightens “is the look of a fool in love, who just found dirt on their lover.” He’s been annoyed since they ended up on this ship, even unlit cigarettes are removed from his mouth, and he’s got a craving eating at the back of his skull, still looking for a smoking area. Resulting in Meryl just sighing. 

“Guess we won’t see much of those two for the rest of today then.” 

Still strolling along you’re obvious to the conversation about yourself, too focused on the photo and getting to a door you share with a certain blond. Knocking you wait, hearing Vash call out a “soft come in” before pressing the mechanism to open it, not wanting to burst in if Brad was still there. 

Not seeing the older man you launch into your speech with a sickly sweet voice. “Vash, my Sunshine” Your cheeks are starting to hurt from the shit-eating grin you’ve been sporting since you saw the photo. “Love of my life, my better half, the star that lights up my nightsk-”

“What did you do?” Sitting at the little table his eyes are pinched closed, the edges of his lips downturned, tone exasperated. Two fingers rubbing his nose no doubt trying to understand why you knocked before entering your own room. 

 “Nothing. This time” you sweep towards him and drop in his lap, an arm slung around his shoulders, voice full of glee “Do you recognize this?” His hand has landed on your hip, trying to keep you steady as his eyes open to look at whatever you’re showing him. His blue eyes widen in shock and your grin grows even larger.

“Where’d you get that!” He’s swiping madly, any plan of keeping you steady in his lap gone, trying to grab the item from you as you lean away the fingers of one hand gripping his shoulder, holding your prize just out of his reach. You have to assume Brad is away and back to working on the repairs to his arm away in the workshop. With that, you have an advantage and you have no qualms about using it seeing as Vash is down an arm at the moment. 

“So it is you!” cackling you wave the object enticingly, glancing at it once again before back to him, his face one of concentration trying to stretch his fingers just a little more. “Here I thought kid Vash was the peak of adorable, and then today I see this!” 

“Mayfly, please” voice pleading and his nose is burning, a flush right up from what you can see of his neck to the tips of his ears. It’s not his usual ‘I’m embarrassed please take pity on me’ pink either, it’s a stark crimson on his pale face and it has your grin growing even larger.  

“Why are you embarrassed?! You were such a cute lanky beanpole!” The object in question is a photo, one of him, laughing as a teenager with a younger Brad both of them working on something and it reminds you how close they are regardless as to how Brad complains about Vash. “I mean those scrawny arms, you were all gangly limbs!” You’re leaning as far away as possible, back partially pressed against the table trying to keep the photo away from him. 

Your laughter is starting to get the better of you, leaving you breathless, and you miss the way his eyes widen as an idea forms. His hand slides under your back and he’s pushing you up onto the table and pinning your upper body with his hips, allowing his free hand to snag the photo and toss it to the ground on the other side of the table. Well out of the reach of your scrambling fingers trying to catch it as it flutters by. 

You try to escape him, only to find yourself lifted up by his one hand and planted squarely in his lap, this time straddling his hips facing him, his arm now wrapped around your middle and locking you in place. “Come on Vash, I was teasing. You really were a cute teenager.” Chest still heaving from all your laughter, hands on his shoulders as you try to catch your breath. 

Leaning forward you press your forehead to his, still smiling “Sometimes I miss the cranky bounty hunter who tied me up and gagged me.” The grin on his face tells you he’s teasing right back. “It’s not fair, I never get to tease you about what you looked like growing up.” 

“Nope” you pop the P, a grin splitting your face “and you’ll never see it.” Your hands are resting on the sides of his neck now, thumbs caressing lines up and down. “Will you let me keep the photo?” voice soft as you ask your question, eyes closed, listening to his breathing now that you’ve calmed down from your laughter. 

“Why do you find it so funny?” A hint of annoyance at you is still coloring his words, causing a few final giggles to pass your lips, his eyes crinkled every so lightly showing his displeasure. 

“I don’t find it amusing” Being honest with yourself you pull back a little to watch his face “Honestly, it just makes me happy looking at it. And it makes me think of things I thought I'd long given up on.” Being with Vash has had that effect on you, made you realize you were just surviving waiting for the end to come, tired of being alone and running. 

Vash brought back that spark, from trying to catch him and failing so many different ways. Then being friends, and that tiny spark inside you grew into a flame, filling the void that anger had eaten away, you wanted to live, and he showed you that you hadn’t been. “I know, we haven’t really been together that long.” He chuckles at that, making you shake a little in his lap. 

“Only what almost a century to find one another, I guess we have been together a short time by comparison” snorting you swat at him. The last few weeks had been draining on the two of you, but that nagging thought in the back of your mind was slowly making you wish for more. More than just wandering, more than just stealing moments with one another when you were hidden out of sight. 

“But I want to grow old with you, you big dork. Or at least whatever version we’ll have of getting old” voice growing softer “and biology willing, maybe have a kid or two.” You don’t know if he can hear your heartbeat thundering in your chest, but your own admission scares you. 

“I thought you couldn’t have kids?” His own question is soft, hand now rubbing soft circles up and down your side. 

“I said it was highly unlikely. I still have a cycle. It’s just, like once a year instead of once a month.” Silent, your hands have stopped moving, and you slide them down along his chest, and finally let them drop into your lap. “After our talk a few weeks ago by the fire, it’s been eating at me. So I asked Luida if it was possible.” Licking your lips as you look into those bright blue eyes, glad his sunglasses are perched atop his head instead of his nose. “I know I should have asked you since it involves both of us, but.” 

The stress from the last few days is catching up to you, making you aware of the things you’ve been pushing to the side. Watching him you can see the way he’s hanging on to your words like it’s a lifeline for him, swallowing the lump forming in your throat. “From a genetic level, we’re compatible. If we ever want to think about it in the future, and we should probably be a little more careful in the present.” 

Vash is taking both of your hands in his own as you finish speaking, looking down at the differences as he interlocks the fingers of one with his longer digits. “I’ve honestly never thought that far ahead. Just trying to keep moving forward to try and fix what damage my brother and I caused during the fall.” You can see the liquid pooling along his lashes, for the first time in a few weeks not hidden behind his sunglasses or the false smiles for others on his face, you watch his eyes growing glassy. “But the idea of growing old with you does sound pretty nice.” One of his rare real smiles is breaking out on his face, soft and vulnerable, he’s looking at you like you’re offering him the world and not a dream. “Knowing that maybe someday we can have a little one of our own is making my heart beat like we’re running for our lives.” 

Laughing you have to agree feeling your own heart starting to beat a ile a minute. “So, we stop your brother from whatever plan he told you about long ago, whatever it is, and hopefully find a way to convince people to stop using the plants so much and let Luida’s plan for terraforming the planet take hold. Then we’ll pick a spot in the middle of nowhere, and stake out a claim. And grow our version of old together.” He’s grinning in response to your words now, disentangling his fingers to playfully swat at you, a few tears slipping past his eyes which you find yourself wiping away.

Leaning forward and pressing his forehead to your shoulder you smile as he answers you “You’re making it sound a little too easy.” You simply let out a hmph of annoyance at him, of course, you made it sound easy. That was the trick with things that are hard, you needed to hook people by making them think it was easy and tell him as much. Leaning back you tilt his head so you can stare at him taking a long look at his features like you need to burn them into your mind before pressing a gentle kiss to his temple. “Mayfly?”

There’s a waiver in his voice you weren’t expecting to hear giving him your full attention “Yes, my pretty plant man?” He snorts at that, and his eyes are flicking back and forth like he’s arguing with himself. A curt nod to himself and he’s staring into your eyes. 

“Do you remember that dream I told you about? The past lives one?” His voice is so low you just register the words, you nod for him to continue because you do remember, it’d been an interesting conversation when you’d been half asleep drinking coffee but you remember it. “There was a part I didn’t tell you about.”

“Oh, well color me intrigued” his hand is sliding up and down your back, and you’ve adjusted yourself so your fingers and intertwined behind his neck thumbs pressing into the base of his skull. At least when you’re not wiping the tears from his eyes.

“It was after all the other ones. You were standing in a kitchen and making coffee” Well that sounds like you and your love of coffee. “You were you, not a different version of you, with some pretty big bags under your eyes.” You’re frowning at him now, but Vash has a smile on his face that’s making your heart soar inside your chest. “You had a child balanced on your hip, don’t know how old they were and when you saw me you pointed at me and said to them ‘There’s your Papa.’ Oh Mayfly, even now, I can picture them in my head. Chubby little cheeks, mouth agape, and a happy scream when they were reaching out for me. I, I thought it was a vision of a possible future.” Now that, that has you thinking. Vash saw you? With a child, his child, shit why does that do things to your head and your heart the same way the photo did. Dredging up memories from a dream you’d shoved down where he’d had black hair. 

“I, I want that future Mayfly.” It’s not a few tears this time but a stream running down his face, and your own heart is beating fast enough to hurt, a dampness on your own lashes. “I want to have a baby with you, someday, I want us to be able to settle down somewhere beside the humans. I’ve never thought I was worthy of having something so wholesome, just kept throwing anything that was for myself away. How could I ever want something that was just for me when all these people live in such hardships because of me? But I want that Mayfly, I want enough that my chest hurts thinking I can’t have it with you.” At his words your head shots forward to close the gap and press your lips to his, tears mingling from both of you along your faces, and he returns the kiss with the same enthusiasm. Dried cracked lips pressing tenderly against one another, neither of you try to deepen the kiss but its still charged from the passion between the two of you.

When you pull away you leave your forehead pressed against his “I want that too Vash. A future with you, I want to stop wandering and have somewhere to belong.” The burning in your chest keeps growing because some part of you has long accepted that next to Vash is where you belong. As long as you can keep walking beside him you know you have your home, because Vash truly is your home even if it took a while for all of you to accept that reality. You aren’t sure how much longer you both sit like that for, enjoying each other's presence and simply existing. After a while, Vash pulls back looking at you with a tired smile.

“Sounds like we have a tomorrow to fight for, that's for us, and not just everyone else now.” You smile, knowing it’s best to move on, otherwise, both of you will start spiraling around the subject, a quagmire of things that you know deep down, neither one of you believes you deserve. Yet, that flicker of hope is growing inside of you a hope that you’ll find that tomorrow together and make the other see they deserve that. 

“Now, back to more recent items.” Forcing a cheerful tone as you let a shit-eating grin light up your face “Does this mean I can keep that photo?” 

A roll of his eyes before shifting you in his lap once more. “As long as you promise me it stays here, I don’t need anyone else seeing what I looked like. It’s embarrassing.” You just laugh pressing your lips to his once more, if that’s his only rule so you can keep the photo you can abide by that.

Back to Masterlist for the series

[magadauthan]

Ep 9: Murder Machine

Aaaaand now for the @trigun98watchparty, we get into what makes Trigun, Trigun. Come for the dumbassery, stay for the trauma.

Cue the entrance of Nicholas D. Wolfwood, wandering priest, and his gloriously bare chest.

--Vash can dish out the whining, but he can't sure take it. Milly is the champion, as the baby of the family. "Pay for our bus fare or I'll hate you! and btw can I have ice cream?"

--oh my lord, Meryl, you are so mean to that poor man. Punch count: 3; insult count: 2 - and then you and Milly steal his water.

--WW's Kansai accent is usually coded in English as Southern. It's probably a good thing the dub didn't tackle that, because it would have been distracting, but wouldn't WW with a Boston or a Chicago accent have been amazing? Come on, the Blues Brothers are right there! (hmmmm... there are an awful lot of similarities between Elwood and Wolfwood...)

--Ah, the portable confessional. Add another notch to the "items seen once and never again" tally.

--Boob shot!

--WW's cold read regarding Vash's empty eyes and hurting on the inside is less impressive when you consider that he has more information than he lets on.

--look at his stupid dress shoes, Tristamp nailed that shit, didn't they lol

--"Why doesn't anything nice ever follow you?" F*ck around and find out, Meryl

--"Did we just become best friends?" "Yep!"

--even the kid thinks you two are a couple of dipshits, seriously

--All of this worthlessness is what Tristamp was missing. Vash and WW have to have adventures where they shoot things, get into trouble, and insult one another. This is what's called "male bonding."

--This is one of the clearer looks we get at how the Plants do their Plant Thing. Push the button and a spider robot comes out. Um, okay. Guess that one was less useful than the Tuna Fish Plant or the Canned Salmon Plant.

--Why was it left behind again? Aren't Plants irreplaceable?

--Vash has a pretty good idea that WW's full of shit and takes a risk on him anyway. He knows how to force a hand.

--they're so cute as a team, aren't they lol

--And there's the second gun. don't ask about Knives' third gun lmao

--Milly gets to be best girl again. WW does take a shine to her right away, doesn't he. That, and he probably thinks it's amusing to make Vash and Meryl sit together. It's so third grade. (it's okay, Meryl, you can admit you don't mind that much)

In light of later events, it's interesting to note what parts of WW's cover story are true and which are fabricated. WW has been handed his orders from Chapel, so his encounter with Vash was no coincidence; WW has to case the joint before making a move. The girls helpfully confirm that WW has made contact, and he has to get Vash to trust him. Not too hard, though Vash isn't quite as naive about WW as he puts on. Everyone's got their act.

WW figures out quickly that Vash is a big softy, or maybe he has info; nevertheless, his generosity towards children (which Vash shares) isn't false. The part about the orphanage and protecting the kids is true, though the circumstances of WW's departure have nothing to do with money and everything to do with a hostage situation. WW's amazement at who he's going to be dealing with is also genuine; he knows Vash is legendary, but seeing Vash wipe out all the mechanical mooks while injured is next-level.

And, at the end of it all...

WW certainly didn't expect to like Vash as much as he ends up doing. (cue the conflict, and a zillion angsty fanfics.) That's going to make everything a lot more complicated.

[scoundrels-in-love]

If this is communication, I disconnect (I need you, you want me, but I don't know how to connect)

Vash does as he promised - he comes back. But he doesn’t come back to her. To anyone at all. Not even himself. It’s just a shade of him which haunts her apartment and the December streets, clad in anonymity provided by his pitch black hair, new coat in a darker shade and glasses that are far too reminiscent of Wolfwood’s to not set an ache in her chest each time Meryl sees him put them on. VashMeryl with references to VashWood and MashWood | On AO3 | | Grief | Emotional Hurt/Comfort | Angst with Hopeful Ending | Lack of Communication | Sometimes talking is hard but the silence is even harder |

Vash does as he promised - he comes back.

But he doesn’t come back to her. To anyone at all. Not even himself.

It’s just a shade of him which haunts her apartment and the December streets, clad in anonymity provided by his pitch black hair, new coat in a darker shade and glasses that are far too reminiscent of Wolfwood’s to not set an ache in her chest each time Meryl sees him put them on.

At first, she does all she can think of to tether him - tries to talk with him and gives him space when all he gives her is silence or feeble attempts at distraction in response, comes home early to cook a meal or take him to her favorite diners, brings donuts and easy chatter from the office. 

But as days stretch into weeks and weeks into months, Meryl finds herself slowing, like she is gradually bleeding out from all the falls she’s taken in her attempts to get through or across, or even under, the walls Vash has enclosed himself in. She is afraid he will suffocate in there, but nothing she does seems to give him even a pinhole of relief.

And ever so gradually, she catches herself stalling going back to her apartment (she’d briefly thought they’d end up calling it theirs) after work, unwilling to play the game of guessing if he will be there, waiting for her with a hollow smile as he tends to the the tree sapling he brought with him, or if he will be gone. Perhaps for the last time.

“Mr. Vash needs time. Just let him know that you’ll be there when he is ready to talk,” Milly says sweetly, thoughtfully, after she catches Meryl curled up at her desk, stifling sobs in the quiet office long after everyone else has gone home. “He needs you more than ever, Ma’am.”

Meryl doesn’t think that’s true - it’s her that has always needed, wanted him and it hardly feels different now. She is the one that lays awake at night, listening into the darkness and wondering if he’ll wake crying and if he will let her comfort him. He hasn’t since the first weeks he spent there - the only sign of his nightmares and pains that he doesn’t manage to hide is the redness of his eyes in the mornings. 

She hopes he doesn’t see the same on her. (Knows he does.)

Every now and then, she gathers all her determination and makes another attempt to reach Vash and, sometimes, it almost feels like they are getting somewhere - sharing a laugh that sounds mostly sincere or allowing their shoulders to rest together as they eat in silence that feels companionable, not like a cold desert night’s wind. Sometimes, it is almost like he is on the brink of actually telling her of those months, those goodbyes she didn’t get to witness, but then she watches his gaze drift somewhere away, inward and she knows she’s lost him, again.

It’s all she does these days.

She is tired - of missing him, of chasing after him as if he was halfway across the world from her, not on the other end of her couch, drumming fingers in an uneasy rhythm on his knees before springing up and giving an excuse for why he must go out. 

It comes to a head one evening when they sit at her small kitchen table, feet carefully arranged not to touch, sharing dinner. The ever-permeating heaviness in her chest expands, gets stuck in her throat, when she thinks she might as well be sitting here with a stranger, with how little she knows about what Vash thinks or does these days. 

“Have you thought about going to Ship Three?” The words pour out of Meryl before she can think through for a third time if she should say them.

He looks like a man who has been slapped, but has been expecting it. And she doesn’t know which part makes her heart sting worse.

It will not be less painful from here, she knows.

“Why do you ask?” Vash deflects and, for once, she’s almost, almost grateful. Because a yes might’ve made her cry, like a confirmation that it’s only the promise keeping him here. But now the ball is back in her court, she has to be the one to say the cold and cruel things that she doesn’t want to, but has to.

Meryl tries to start it off gently, at least: “Luida wrote they all miss you, didn’t she? It’s been a while since you’ve stopped by.”

Vash ceases poking at the food on his plate, puts the fork and knife down with measured movements and proceeds to punch the air out of her lungs with his next words: “Do you want me to leave?”

“No.” Her voice breaks and she swallows thickly before continuing. If only that could be the whole answer. 

“No. I don’t want you to. But I think it might be better if you did.”

When Vash says nothing, she, too, gives up on the pretense of eating and clutches her hands tightly in her lap as she lifts her eyes to look at his carefully blank face. It’s a kind of emotion on its own. 

“I love you, Vash,” she says and with his sharp inhale, realizes this is the first time she’s said it out loud to him, but she can’t pause, can’t hesitate or she will do something foolish, like asking if he -, “but I don't think staying here is helping you.”

He remains silent and the heaviness in her chest begins to tip over into an aching frustration. She’s once again talking to a wall that has somehow found itself placed in her kitchen, in her life.

“I can’t do this anymore. I��ve tried everything I know and then some and yet you’ve never felt further from me than now. All these months and you haven’t trusted me with a single shred of your pain.” 

Meryl stands up, the sound of her chair scraping against the floor jarring. There isn’t enough space for her to pace, so she stands there, hands clenched and, for once, at the same eye level as Vash who is slumped in his seat. The frustration is stoked into anger by his continuous silence, a want to shake something, anything, out of him taking over. Between it all, the bitterness steeped in the cracks and divots of her heart for months rises like bile and spills out.

“Hell, you won’t even tell me about Wolfwood. As if it’s only your grief and you’re the only one who loved him, just because-”

(Because there was never time and place for me to love him in stolen moments like you could. Because your fingers carry the memory of his warmth and of his coldness once death took its due. Because you feel like you could’ve prevented it, where I could have never made a difference in his borrowed time.)

He flinches at that, and for a second, Meryl feels satisfaction. It’s not fair, she knows. But she is so tired of being thoughtful, when she has to cradle this abyss with her ribcage while Vash acts as if none of this impacted her, as if she’s a stranger that he cannot bear to burden with even a glimpse of the whole story. It’s hers, too, for fuck’s sake. 

All these years spent chasing after him (them), loving him (them), all the horrors that have broken her to pieces from which she had to rebuild on her own, all this time being considerate since he came back, all this time grieving one man she never said goodbye to and one she did not know if she'd see again (and has she?) and here they are, or rather, are not. 

“You just… Exist here,” Meryl says, her voice cracks between anger and the first burn of tears. 

Vash’s hands twitch as if he wants to reach for her and she wishes he would, but then stillness takes him again and without an anchor, she is pulled deeper into this dark place where she can’t breathe, can’t think. Every fearful, painful thought she's tried to swaddle and keep contained in the long, lonely hours of nighttime comes forth, tears through and out of her.

"I don't understand why you're even here, if you're not letting me in. Or even near you." 

Her voice is watery in a way Meryl hates and her fists tighten to the point it feels like her skin will split over her knuckles, baring the bones as she is baring her pain.

"If it's the promise, if I am just an obligation you're regretting and don't know how to deal with… I can release you from it."

There is a soft, almost whimper-like sound from Vash and she forces herself to look at him, take in the handiwork of her own hurt spun together with the cruelty of voicing it like this.

His expression is no longer blank and she doesn't - doesn't feel like she knows him enough anymore to decipher emotions there, but it looks a lot like devastation. And she regrets it. Regrets shooting him point blank when he is already down. (Part of her is surprised that she could, that somewhere beneath his numbness, he did, does care.) Regrets because she's torn herself to pieces in the process, too. But she's been doing that since he came back, inch by inch every day, so maybe now she can finally start healing. Even if it scars and knits all wrong. 

Meryl unclenches her fists and her fingers ache as she wipes at her face, smearing the tear streaks. The silence around them feels stretched and blurred the same way.

"What do you want me to do?" Vash asks when she is so close to begging him to say something, even if it is to call her a horrible, cruel, unfeeling thing. (He wouldn't even be wrong.) His voice is quiet, shuddering and makes more tears spill down her cheeks.

She has to bite her lip, so hard that blood floods her mouth, so she doesn't start sobbing outright. He sounds so lost, like nothing makes sense anymore, like he wants her to give him a path to walk on because he’s never had the luxury of such a choice, only a burning, damned destination waiting. 

And she could - there are so many things Meryl wants for him. She wants Vash to let her learn to love him, every broken, jagged-edged piece that doesn’t fit together anymore and that he’s kept concealed, she wants him to mourn all the way to the bottom of the ravine that cleaves him in half and be next to him as he does, she wants him to let himself eat and savor it again, she wants him to laugh again one day, she wants him to be kind to himself for once, wants him, wants him, wants him-

But most of all, she wants him to want any of it. Want her. Anything. She won’t be the next person to take up the mantle of dictating his life, even if it’d be easier for him.

"I want you to live. To learn what that means for you.” Her voice sounds thin to her own ears, bending under the weight of her intent, her breaking heart as she continues: “And I don't know if you can start that here."

Vash curls forward, burying his face in his hands for a moment, and Meryl feels like collapsing on the kitchen floor next to his chair. Maybe they can cry together, just this once. But then he is raising his head again, expression shuttered once more as he nods: "Okay."

And then he stands up and leaves. 

Not for the last time, not yet. But she feels like it might as well be.

In two days, Vash is standing at the door of the apartment that was almost theirs. His satchel rests by the doorjamb, as does the basket to be strapped on his back, in which he so carefully has placed the tree seedling.

If she doesn’t say something now, he will turn and leave with barely a goodbye and it will be another bead of regret in the adorned string that is slowly choking her. They’ve scarcely spoken since that evening, not even tiny pleasantries, and Meryl needs him to know that she isn’t casting him out, that she doesn’t hate him. But she can’t think of any words to convey it.

“My couch will always be available for you,” she says instead. He regards her quietly and Meryl hopes he finds only sincerity and none of the desperation for him to take her up on the offer some day. 

Vash nods softly and she feels the seconds ticking by, heavy with their mutual hesitation. 

“Can I…” Meryl inhales deeply, bracing herself for the way this will turn her inside out and the very real possibility of his rejection, “can I hug you?”

Vash’s lips part in muted surprise and then he slowly spreads his arms and she throws herself at him, before he has time to reconsider. 

Her arms slide beneath his coat, clutching at the back of his dark shirt and Meryl presses her face into his chest, hoping that the heat of him will dry up the first well of tears in her eyes. It doesn’t.

Vash’s hand comes to cradle the back of her head as the other wraps around her shoulders, tentatively at first and then almost crushing as the first sob shudders through her body. This is the closest they’ve been in this half a year they’ve spent living so close it was almost together. 

It’s a thought that wrings another sob out of Meryl, loud enough that she almost misses Vash’s whisper.

“I love you.” 

She stills, not even breathing, unsure if she imagined it. Vash's hands tighten around her as he bends over her awkwardly, pressing his face into her hair.

“I love you," he repeats, now at a volume that does not permit mistakes of mishearing, not even with the tremble in his voice, "Wolfwood told me to take good care of you and look at what I’ve done.”

“He should have stayed and made sure you do, then,” Meryl says, swaying deeper into Vash's arms with an angry longing for what could have been. 

It is the first time they've spoken of Wolfwood like this, like he - or the lack of him - is something they can let into the room with them, acknowledge together. Like he was a person, not a wound with a face. Part of her fears Vash will push her away for it.

Instead, she feels him nod: “Yeah. Yeah, he should have.”

And then Vash is slowly sliding down, crumbling on his knees, as he holds her still. He buries his face in her shoulder and she feels the sobs shaking his body before she hears them. 

Her arms shift to wrap around his shoulders and she thinks how frail he feels in this moment, like a teenage toma whose bulk is mostly feathers and posturing, though she knows, knows the strength of his body and heart goes beyond that of any human.

She's seen it, has had it written across every nerve ending in her body as his memories and his feathered weight crushed her, has feared it and has had to untangle her own overwhelming fragility from it. And in the same way, she knows the pain and the guilt that runs through Vash like a river system that she's read used to define humanity itself once upon a time on Earth, knows every loss since then has only added a new stream. Knows he's been drowning this whole time in the ocean where all the rivers meet.

So she holds him, hopes it's enough to keep him afloat if only for a moment, and cries with and for him.

They stay like that, clinging to each other like the only way to remain upright for themselves is to make sure the other doesn't collapse, for a time that might be hours or infinity or maybe just a handful of minutes, ached to the bottom of every second.

Eventually, Vash's sobs subside and so do Meryl's and then the silence is only interrupted by a sniffle or hiccup from one of them in the aftermath. She is afraid again, of what comes next, or what doesn't.

Her fingers tread through the soft hairs on his nape, one final indulgence before she has to take the next and perhaps the last step. Meryl draws a deep, shuddering breath, her voice hoarse on exhale: "Do you want me to let go now?" 

Vash is still in her arms, has been for a while now as if he's forgotten that he is supposed to need to breathe now that it's uncomfortable after crying. And yet, it feels like the question freezes him. They both know it's not just about ending this embrace. 

Her heart beats so painfully loudly in her chest, it must sound like a drum to him. Five beats, six beats, seven - please, end this agony, she thinks. I've been saying this goodbye for so long, I can't endure the waiting for it any more.

"No..." He sounds unsure, like a child that doesn't know what answer the teacher wants to hear, so he gives the one he's got and prays it's the correct one. It punches a pained sound out of her as she turns her head and presses her lips to his temple, a few quick tears racing down her face.

"Then I won't," she tells him, finds a way to somehow embrace him tighter still. It hurts her arms, hurts where the metal plates and wires on his body press into her, but she will take these pains of imprinting, of becoming his mirror gladly. 

He looks at her then, truly looks at her, with intent and without flinching away when she meets his gaze. She stays in that moment, tries to write her heart across her features, but knows even a novel wouldn't be enough to convey it.

They remain silent for a long while, just allowing themselves and the other to look, until a bitter sort of absurdity comes to Meryl. "Why can we only be honest when you're about to leave?" she asks, softly, and finally lets go of him enough to bring one of her hands to cup Vash's face, thumb stroking across his cheek, wiping at the drying tear tracks. 

He leans into her touch, eyes fluttering half shut, as if he can't bear to stop looking at her, and it makes her heart drop into some weightless space. His voice is quiet, mournful: "I don't know. Maybe it's that I don't know how to stay."

Then his expression shifts, the determination in it akin to the one she'd seen during countless hopeless fights and situations he'd turned into something else, something better with sheer want to. "But I want to try. Being honest while staying."

"Me too," she promises, because her heart's truth often comes too late and too loudly.

Meryl doesn't know if they will ever truly leave this in-between space, where the shadows of parting are so bitingly stark against the too bright, scorching suns of possibilities, where goodbyes swirl around them like dust and sand almost constantly.

But, she thinks, if they can move even a little closer to the edge, to peace, maybe they can settle down. They both have lived in colder and lonelier places, after all.

[dragonlover123a]

Overprotective

10ft Vash the Stampede

4'11 Meryl Stryfe

"Do we have to Mayfly?" Vash whined, "I know sandsteamers are the fastest way to November, but I have the worst luck with public transportation. Even now."

Meryl chuckled, leaning affectionately into her husband's side from her mount, a genetically specialized Tomas her brother-in-law made so she could relatively keep up with Vash at his much larger size named KoKo. "I know Angel, but we're already a week behind schedule because of the storm and you know how my boss can get when I'm late for my bi-annual visit to the office"

Vash sighed, wrapping his long arm around his wife's small shoulders as he looked up at the humpback class sandsteamer in front of them. "I guess. But what about KoKo here?" He asked, gleefully running his free hand through the Tomas' cyan mane when she pressed against his leg at her name, clearly asking for attention too. "I don't want to leave her here"

"Most humpback class sandsteamers have stables for Toma. It costs a little extra, but she'll be safe." Meryl said, patting her mount's neck, which earned a small trill of content.

"What about Stampede Suites?" Vash asked. "I don't want you to be cramped because of me."

Meryl smiled. Stampede Suites where specialized hotel rooms made specially for Vash to comfortably fit his much larger frame. He felt it was more than he deserved and would be perfectly happy on a small twin sized cot, but she knew he only paid for Stampede Suites for her comfort more than for his own.

"I highly doubt it. The S.S. Prosper is almost as old as the Flourish. New enough that the emergency brake issue has been fixed, but too old to have a Stampede Suite, even as an annexed room." Meryl explained. "But it'll be okay Vash. I'll be fine to share a king size mattress with you. It's just for the night." She assured him, giving his much larger hand a comforting squeeze.

Vash sighed again before picking Meryl up and taking KoKo's reigns as he started up the gangplank. "Alright, let's go."

Soon enough, KoKo was settled into a stable and Vash and Meryl where in a decently sized first class room. Or at least decently sized for a human. Despite the high ceiling, Vash was still hunch over quite a bit

"Mayfly are you sure this is the biggest room on the steamer?" He asked, his palm flat on the ceiling as if pressing up against it would give him more space to stand more comfortably.

Meryl smiled in amusement, getting up from the bed and reached up to take his free hand in her own. "I'm sure. C'mon, let's get some sleep." She said, tugging him closer to the bed.

Vash smiled down at her, letting his wife lead him to the bed, but couldn't help but grimace when the bed creaked under his weight when he sat down on it. "Geez they couldn't've at least reenforced it? I feel like it's going to collapse if I have another nightmare..." He said, quickly taking off his long red duster with practiced ease and unbuckling his boots before kicking them off.

"Not everyone is 10 feet tall and weighs more than a Tomas." Meryl replied, shedding her own cloak and boots before climbing onto the bed, standing on the mattress so she could plant a kiss on his jaw.

The smile returned to his face as he turned his head to face her, stealing a quick peck on the lips before scooping her into his arms and cradling her against his chest. "Yeah but it's all muscle" he playfully retorted

"And metal" she added, tapping his left pec where the metal grate was welded into. "If you had anymore metal I'd have to start calling you a robot"

Vash chuckled, kissing her forehead before pressing his own against where he just kissed. "I'm rubbing off on you Mayfly. But you have to work on your jokes. That was pretty terrible"

Meryl just rolled her eyes and patted his chest. "Anyway. Summon your wings. It's the 15th today" she instructed, trying to sit up in his arms.

"Aw do I have to? The room is so small." Vash whined, holding her tighter

Once a month, Meryl helped him preen his wings. Fixing crooked feathers and helping him get rid of old ones to make room for new, healthy feathers. Something that Knives very clearly instructed her she had to do, otherwise he could get sick like he did in LR Town after the Legato incident.

"Yes. You do. If Knives wrings me out because I'm not making sure you're taking care of yourself, I'm throwing you under the steamer with me"

Vash pouted at her for a moment before setting her on the bed, standing up as best he could and summoned his wings, casting the room in a soft turquoise and golden glow before sitting down on the floor in front of Meryl, letting her run her hands through his wings. As much as he complained about the preening, he did have to admit that feeling his wife's small hands run through his thick golden feathers was really nice...

After a while of Meryl preening his wings, Vash found himself dozing off when the sandsteamer gave an all too familiar lurch. He let out a very inhuman growl, much more inhuman than he meant.

Vash really had the worst luck with public transportation.

Meryl paused what she was doing when she heard him growl. Usually she loved it when he growled, especially in bed. But this wasn't a playful growl, it was a frustrated one.

"Vash? What's wrong?" She asked, smoothing out some feathers.

"BadLads" he answered simply

"Again? Let me grab my cloak" she said, starting to get up.

In an instant, Vash had turned around, catching her small wrists with one hand and her waist with the other. "No Meryl... It's too dangerous."

"What do you mean too dangerous?" Meryl whisper shouted, her brows furrowing as she freed a hand from her husband's loose grip to pull at his ear in irritation. "I've helped take BDN down before!"

Normally Vash would ham it up and act like Meryl tugging at his ear actually hurt, but now he was more worried about protecting her, and the people on the ship. "I know... It's just that... Last time I dealt with Neon he promised that he'll kill me"

"But he can't kill you. You're immortal"

"I know. But I don't want him to figure that out and then kidnap you to try to hurt me." He told her, cupping her cheek in his hand. Well, her head, as his palm was much bigger than it. "So please Meryl. Stay here and stay safe. For me." Vash asked, glowing eyes pleading.

Begrudgingly, Meryl nodded as she leaned into his hand. "Alright. I'll stay hidden" she said.

Vash smiled, gently tilting Meryl's chin upwards so he could press his lips against hers. "That's my Mayfly" he whispered softly, pressing his forehead against hers before standing again, rolling his neck and shoulders, letting his markings and wings disappear into his skin, allowing the room to fall into darkness, save for his eyes. Grabbing the scarlet coat, Vash quickly put it on and headed out into the hallway. "I'll be back soon"

Meryl sighed as the door shut behind him and she heard his heavy boots disappear down the hall. She knew Vash would be fine. He was immortal after all. Yes he could be hurt, and the scars and metal that littered his skin was proof of that, but he couldn't be killed. Still, she felt useless sitting here in the dark.

Minutes turned into hours and Meryl was getting antsy. She promised Vash that she would stay here and stay hidden. But it would only be a matter of time before the gang would find her in the room.

With a decisive huff, Meryl grabbed her cloak and put it on before sneaking out of the room as quietly as she could. She knew Vash wouldn't be happy with her for throwing herself into danger like this, but it was still technically her job to make sure he didn't cause too much damage. Besides, she could handle him getting upset with her, and he was never upset with her for long. He knew that if she made up her mind about something, there was no changing it. That was something they had in common.

Only he was an unstoppable force of nature. Meryl thought to herself. Something about Plants self actualizing their names or something? She wasn't sure.

Being careful not to make any noise, Meryl snuck down the hall. Towards where, she wasn't sure. She knew she had to find Vash. It wasn't like her to not have a plan, but her worry for her husband was eating her up inside.

"You! Stop there!"

Meryl froze. Shit...

She had only three options right now, and none of them were good. Draw her weapons and fight, surrender, or run. If she fought, their numbers would quickly overpower her, and if she ran, she'd be surrounded. Either way, she would most likely be brought before Brilliant Dynamite Neon.

Why didn't she just listen to Vash? She asked herself, mentally kicking herself as one of Neon's men took her by the arms and forced her forward. "I'm going, I'm going! Ease up asshole!" She growled at the man

To her surprise, his grip turned gentle. "Right. I'm sorry ma'am. Mr Neon specifically asked for you. I'm sorry for this... I really am" he said softly.

This surprised Meryl, and confused her greatly. "Why are you being so nice about this?"

The man sighed under the mask as he lead her down the hall. "Money's tight, okay? And Mr Neon pays pretty fairly. I was desperate for a job and there was an opening." He explained. "But he caught word that the Humanoid Typhoon was onboard the steamer and decided to make due on a promise he made like, 20 years ago. Which is dumb if you ask me. But when he caught up to the guy he saw what he turned into and ordered us to find you."

"The hell does he want from me?" Meryl demanded as they stopped in front of a set of doors.

"He didn't say... But whatever happens, I'm sorry" The man told her, sounding honest as he pushed her through.

She stumbled through the doors and large hand steadied her. Looking up, she was hoping it was her husband, but she felt her heart sink with dread when she saw who it was.

"Well look who it is. Now this party can really get started."

Meryl tensed when the hand grabbed her by her collar and lifted her up to face Vash on the other side, who was seething in anger. She tried calling out to him, but couldn't get a sound out before she felt his gun press against her temple.

"Turns out, your beau is an immortal god and I can't make due on the promise I made to him." Neon sneered into her ear. "And I don't break my promises. Such a shame... I hate to waste a pretty face"

Meryl cringed as she heard the gun powered up, waiting for her brains to splatter on the deck below. But it never came. Instead, she heard only two words echo in her head, and she knew everyone else heard it as well.

DROP HER

The next few moments where a frenzy of chaos. All she could tell was that she fell to the metal floor and a heavy weight had settled over her. Blinking, Meryl looked up as much as she could. From her perspective, the leader of the BadLads was cowering in fear across the room and Vash had crouched over her in a protective, feral stance, his wings spread out and wide to make himself seem even bigger and more intimidating than before.

Meryl had to do something. She had to calm him down. When Vash got like this, he became a massive angelic like monster who had four arms (well, technically three, as one was amputated) and more wings and eyes then she could count. Yes for the most part he could control the transformation and kept his mind, but sometimes he couldn't and became feral. She really didn't need him to grow to the size of a steamer while they where still in it.

Reaching forward, she grabbed his natural arm, hugging it tight and tried her best to ignore the fast growing feathers that threatened to bury her. "Vash! Vash, I'm okay! Please... I'm okay. I'm safe"

The arm she was holding moved, scooping her into it as she laid her head in his hand. "Meryl?"

She smiled at him, reaching up to touch his face, being careful not to accidentally poke the extra eyes that appeared on his cheeks in his protective rage. "That's right Angel. It's me. I'm safe" Meryl assured him as he closed the extra eyes, making them disappear into his skin.

"Well then" BDN stated, his voice still shaking from fear despite clearly trying to put on a bravado facade for his men. "If you're done with your fancy show of power, me and my men will take our leave. This party ain't fun anymore"

Vash looked up at him, growling out what Meryl could only assume was a string of curses in his native tongue before standing to his full height and setting her down behind him.

"What? You wanna duel again? You have your woman and we didn't kill that many people." Neon challenged, standing to his own full height. It might've been impressive in the past compared to Vash, but now he just looked ridiculously small.

The red clad gunslinger didn't speak, and only bared his sharp teeth as he walked towards the gang leader, making it a point to force him to crane his neck to continue looking him in the eyes.

Neon's eyes widened as his voice faltered to silence. He definitely fucked up. And now he was staring into the eyes of the Humanoid Typhoon. Screw the Diablo, these where the eyes of an angry god.

"Look... I'm sorry. I gave you back your wo-"

He couldn't get the rest of his sentence out before a massive heavy boot landed on his chest, pushing him through the door behind him and sending him flying a few yarz.

Neon landed on his back, his head bouncing off the metal floor, causing his vision to go blurry. All he could see when he looked up was two glowing orbs high above him

"You steal from innocent people. You kill with no remorse and you steal what's mine" Vash growled, towering above the man as he lifted his boot and brought it down hard on his arm, earning a loud crack and a scream in pain.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry! Please! Please don't kill me!" Neon pleaded, writhing in pain from his broken arm.

Vash snarled, moving his foot to his chest and put his weight down on the man as he leaned down to get in his face. "That woman is mine. These people are mine. If you hurt anyone else, I will hunt you down. Understand?"

"Cr-crystal"

Vash scoffed, but removed his foot, reaching into his jacket pocket to toss Beramy a roll of bandages and gauze to take care of his boss's broken arm before going back to where Meryl was.

"How bad is the damages?" She asked

Vash gave her a lopsided grin. "I didn't break any of the steamer if that's what you meant. So it should be a fairly easy report" he assured her, ruffling her hair.

"What did you do to him? I heard screaming" Meryl asked, swatting his hand away

"Nothing to bad. I just convinced him not to steal anymore"

Meryl gave him a look of disbelief, but decided to drop it. She knew what he was capable of, and she also knew that when he injured someone out of anger, he didn't like too talk about.

"Anyway!" Vash suddenly blurted out, spurring Meryl out of her thoughts. "It's late. And you have to go straight from the station to the office when we get to November in the morning" He stated, kneeling down in front of her and offering his arms to her.

Meryl smiled at him and took his offer, letting him pick her up and set her on his hip as he walked back to their room.

She hummed softly as he wrapped his other arm around her, pressing her small frame closer to himself.

Vash really was overprotective of her. But she wouldn't trade it for the world.

[whirlwindimagines]

First time requesting so I hope I don't make this super confusing but I couldn't help it because I love your writing ♥️.

I was thinking that the reader is a printer (prints the newspapers on the press, designs and prints wanted posters, etc.) Reader is a good friend of Meryl and Roberto because of the newspaper business, so when the group comes into the print shop to look for some information on someone/some place the reader recognizes vash from the wanted posters. Because of that the group thinks reader is gonna turn vash into the police but the reader just says that vash looks cuter than the wanted poster xD

Reader probably offers to stop printing his wanted poster.

Just an idea I had and (totally not because I personally work at a print shop cough cough) wanted to share!

Thank you! Hey nothing wrong for asking for something self-indulgent! And that seems like a cool job! This is a shorter one, but I hope you enjoy it! (lol its still over 600 words)

'Wanted'

Vash x Reader

You dropped the stack of papers on the table with a sigh, God is it time for your break yet or not? With a sigh you sort through the papers, your mind going blank at the actions. You don't know how many wanted posters you can look at anymore, how could this many people even be wanted?

With a groan you rub at your eyes, maybe you should just take that break now. Hands messaging temples, you start to sneak out to the back room. Passing towers of paper, and your co-workers rushing around you are stopped before reaching your destination.

“Y/n there’s someone here to see you, Meryl it was?” Your whole demeanor brightens, you haven’t seen Meryl in forever! Thanking your co-worker, you quickly head to the front lobby, the thought of a break far from your mind. You haven’t seen the reporter for a while now after she got sent on some big assignment as she put it.

Hoping everything was okay with Meryl, you spot her standing in the lobby. She called your name, giving a big wave as she did. Joining her side, Meryl quickly pulls you into a hug which you gladly returned. “It’s been a while how are you?” You ask pulling back, she lets out a laugh. “Busy it’s been a little hectic.” You’re not what sure she means; you notice Meryl looking around a little nervously. 

You are about to question her, but she speaks before you can. “Can we talk outside? As excited as I am to see you again, we’re actually looking for some information. And I thought you’d might be able to help us.” You let out a ‘hum’ guess you were taking that break. “Sure! Just give me a moment.” 

Once you have everything settled away, you let Meryl lead you outside and around the corner. The two of you chat idly, whatever she actually wants to talk about must be important, but you’re always willing to provide an inside scoop for a friend. Rounding the corner you spot Roberto, who looks as tired as always, you’re sure Meryl is keeping him on his toes.  

Beside him is another man, and oh hello tall, blonde, and handsome. You narrow your eyes something looks so familiar about him, but you can’t put your finger on it. Meryl drags you over to the two men, and you greet Roberto with a bright smile which he returns with a gruff 'hello' and a pat on your shoulder. 

The man in the red coat greets you with a bright smile, and it’s very nice. He doesn’t give you his name, which you find very suspicious but you still can’t figure out why. Meryl starts talking, explaining what they’re looking for and that any information will be appreciated.

You are listening you really are, but you can’t help but sneak some glances at the blonde. It hits you then, “oh!” You say snapping your fingers and pointing at the blonde, “Your Vash the Stampede!” Your statement shocked everyone into silence, you laughed at their wide eye looks. “Man, I can’t tell you how many wanted posters we print of you.” You are surprised you didn’t recognize him sooner! 

Vash looks at you with wide eyes, but smiles “nice to meet you!” He says this with a laugh, Meryl grabs your arm forcing you to look at her, “you’re not going to say anything right?” She looks up at you with wide eyes as you shake your head. 

“Of course not, if he’s with you guys then there must be a reason, I trust you.” You answer honestly, and everyone lets out a sigh of relief. You smirk your gaze meeting Vash’s “And besides your much cuter in person.” You tease, watching his entire face go red. Meryl groans beside you releasing your arm in the process, while Roberto mutters something about getting a drink. 

You continue your talk with the three, continuing to sneak some glances at Vash, who seemed to be doing the same to you. He really was cuter in person; you certainly wouldn’t mind getting to know the Humanoid Typhoon.

You are happy that you were able to provide at least some information for the group, before parting ways you turn to Vash "If you want I can mess up the printing machine a bit, make it so they aren't printing so many of your wanted posters." and you mean, Vash rubs the back of his neck sheepishly, "Man I would really appreciate it!"

You smirk then, "Of course, but could you sign one of them for me? I mean I have to keep one of the posters now after meeting you in person." you give him a wink, watching with glee as his entire face goes red and he turns into a stuttering mess. It really is endearing, and he does promise to sign one for you! So you figure its a win.

[neonscandal]

Hello, again, Neon...How are you? Sorry I have not log in tumblr for almost 2 month. I'm surprised you got quite a lot of interesting asks when I read your blog....

So, first thing first, now I'm in the middle of watching "Fushigi Yuugi", thanks to you. Now, I'm not really interested in the romance but I really love the story and worldbuilding. It's isekai but so good....Thanks for your rec, Neon....🌻🤩

I always love sorting characters to Hogwarts Houses, and because you said you don't mind, can I ask for : Miaka/Tamahome (classic trope done great), Narumi/Nifuji (cute couple), and Vash/Wolfwood (I'm depress after reading their story), Reki/Langa (just read BL that remind me of them)?

Last question (sorry for this long ask, feel free if you don't want to answer all), because you love Hermione, do you ship Hermione/Ron or Hermione/Draco or other? Why?

Hope you have a wonderful day, Neon. And sorry for late in saying this : Happy Belated Birthday, wish you all the good things in life 💐😄

Hello old friend, welcome back 🌻💛 Never a need to apologize! I dare say you and your many questions may have emboldened others to reach out haha so I suppose I should say thank you for that. And for your kind words always! 🥺❤️

For it to be an older series, I'm glad to hear the worldbuilding holds up! I always loved Tamahome, Chichiri and Nuriko because they were so funny to me when I was younger. I feel like I should revisit the series with you!

Of COURSE I'm gonna address your whole ask in one go. Just remember, fuck TERFs!

ROMIONE vs DRAMIONE

As a smooth brained child, I didn't really ship Hermione until there was more obvious signaling that she and Ron were end game. The books were coming out when I was literally the age of the characters and kids are easily influenced and don't think critically. Not even going into comphet shipping at that age. I also loved redheads or maybe just the Weasleys? As an adult, Ron kinda sucked as a partner for Hermione. He took Hermione for granted, wasn't really supportive of things that meant a lot to her (SPEW, though clearly she changed his mind based on his later concern for the elves), was generally harsh with his words regarding her until the cruft of their adolescence was really broken away but, in my opinion, Hermione outclassed Ron and Harry in a lot of ways. In this pairing, it feels like Hermione made Ron better but Ron didn't reciprocate that improvement where Hermione was concerned. We can say he made her more approachable but that was him and Harry and just general socialization. It's been awhile since I've read the books so I may be selling my boy Ron short here. But also, as an adult, I see brilliant, amazing women end up with mediocre (but somewhat earnest) men all the time so I guess we were adequately prepared in our childhood.

As an adult, I'm not going to say I ship Dramione but I definitely see the appeal more. Especially where fandom fills in the gap because, contextually, we see them at odds and how Hermione is bold enough to challenge Draco. She (similar to Ron in the above), isn't the only reason the Draco undergoes his necessary character development we see through the story but her audacity, I think, humbles him in a way that's different from Harry. This dynamic is also more aligned with ships I tend to gravitate toward where they're a little antagonistic with a soft underbelly. I'm not saying this question justifies sharing this beautiful animation by @lyrablack1883 but… an excuse is an excuse. 👀

Onto the neon Sorting Hat, I guess!

Bear in mind, I'm largely of the mind that where the other houses are fixed, Gryffindor is open to anyone brave enough to ask/insist so, if you don't agree, that's cool, too. I give the primary i think they'd be in otherwise.

Miaka Yuki (Fushigi Yuugi) - Gryffindor with Hufflepuff underpinnings. It's important to note that the tenderness that Miaka exhibits is not without an edge. She may not be strong but she isn't powerless. She is kind and accepting of others and fair with a sense of purpose when chosen to be a priestess and rises to the occasion. She's still stubborn and, in fact, the flaws that more prominently make her a Gryffindor is what endears her to others (and sets her at odds with Tamahome because she's a brat, let's be serious). Still, with the whole world on its head, Miaka doesn't shy away from her duty and grows a lot along the way.

Tamahome (Fushigi Yuugi) - okay this is a bit of a toss up but only because it's been so long since I've seen Fushigi Yuugi that I'm torn between Ravenclaw and Slytherin, for obvious reasons. Tamahome is loyal to a cause and is subsequently very logical about the means to satisfy that end. Character wise, I just can't determine (or recall, rather), whether he could justify any means to that end. I'm leaning toward Ravenclaw with the loyalty to his family and then the Suzaku Warriors but I'm open to your interpretation as someone who may have seen it more recently.

Narumi Momose (Wotakoi: Love is Hard for Otaku) - Ravenclaw. Intuitively, Narumi had a goal in mind and creatively deduced camouflage would be the best means to be successful socially and at work. It's a little dishonest but with earnest intentions. But Narumi is a Ravenclaw in the daffy way the Luna Lovegood is a Ravenclaw. That's not to suggest neither lack intelligence but their focus tends to be elsewhere. Whatever the special interest, they know it all, you know? Good luck trying to be a normie, Narumi.

Hirotaka Nifuji (Wotakoi: Love is Hard for Otaku) - Bear in mind I have one season of Wotakoi under my belt. But the biggest indicator for my determination is that Hirotaka managed to hide his crush on Narumi for the full duration of the season. Cool, and nonchalant but the frenzy when his brother almost blew his cover? Slytherin. Mans had a goal all along and while Narumi seemed to fall in line with that out of convenience, it suited his purposes all along and we only see an aberration in his behavior when that was potentially jeopardized. Harmless as the circumstances were, it's giving Slytherin.

Vash the Stampede (Trigun) - Hufflepuff to a fault with sympathy for the devil. He will do what is right, damn the consequences and the risk of personal injury to himself. He was given a life and seeks to protect the lives of others at all cost. This sunshine boy isn't without shadow, driven to offset his brothers' misdeeds, for sure. But Rem, I think, is a stronger guide in how Vash lives his life. He doesn't do it for the glory, it's simply what must be done. He certainly doesn't go looking for trouble the way a Gryffindor might. It just finds him and he tries to resolve it as amicably as possible with a moral compass always pointing due North.

Nicholas D. Wolfwood (Trigun) - SLYTHERIN. Hat's barely rested upon his head and definitively we know that Nicky D will do whatever's needed to get his desired end. Not saying Vash won't make him question himself but, ultimately, Nicholas will do what Vash can't. His morality rests upon a razor's edge and he's learned that the only way to protect the people he love's are by doing the dirty work necessary. With Vash's influence, he may be tortured about it, though.

Reki Kyan (SK8 the Infinity) - Gryffindor with a strong Hufflepuff alignment (is this why Miya warms up to him?). Not only is he earnestly hardworking and kind, the glue that brings everyone together. But he's also brave, punching well above his weight class to stand up to Adam and protect Miya and, ultimately, to triumph over him because of his own brilliance and ingenuity.

Langa Hasegawa (SK8 the Infinity) - Gryffindor with a spice of Ravenclaw. ✨ Naturally skilled and adept skater (after some serious hard work as a boarder), I think Langa wouldn't have wound up pursuing skating at all had he not gotten swept up into it through the series of events as outlined. But, in the new environment, he's able to leverage his previous expertise critically and playfully and ascend to awe inspiring heights. Doesn't mean he's not still a bit of a himbo. Affectionately, Reki and Langa at their core are idiot 🤝 idiot and we love them for it.

Anon, a BL that reminds you of Reki and Langa!? Drop the rec, bestie! How could you not include? Do I need to make a rules page? Pay the troll toll, guys!

[dapper-shipping-forever]

Snippet for the shared injuries au ! It was gonna be more pure fluff but I realized their injuries would hold implications lmao

Please enjoy reading ! Reblogs always appreciated 🌸

---

It is simply a well known fact of the universe by now. Soulmates are those who share the deepest connections, destined to meet and realize their unwavering love; and, those soulmates can recognize each other by the wounds they share. It's guessed that soulmates sharing their wounds represents their loyalty, the conviction to stand with their partner and share themselves. Everyone knows this.

Gill couldn't remember this fact, it had to be explained to her in full then. Of course, it was the best explanation anyone had for why a girl with no memories had scars covering almost her whole body as she had. 

Essentially the only spot without a dozen scars on Gill was her left arm, which had just a couple underneath the boundary of one circling her bicep; she was told that kind of soulmate scarring likely meant they'd had that arm severed, same with the ones on both her legs as well. Whoever her soulmate is, she was told, must flirt with trouble itself daily.

She couldn't remember any of the scars she awoke with; had no idea how many are from her soulmate or how either of them received them as she remembered almost nothing. It barely took any time for her to get more scars though, cuts and bruises would appear on her most every day whether she hurt herself or not. Most people felt bad for her; to have such an accident prone soulmate that left her with only scars, but Gill never thought of it that way. With each new injury, she would only gently touch it after it had been tended to and think of caressing her soulmate's wounds, and when she presses a kiss to her injuries she imagined kissing a kiss to their injuries.

She did her best to stay uninjured. Though, training with her master, who proved to be quite the brutal instructor, had her constantly apologizing mentally to her future partner. It was mostly only bruises she received during training, though occasionally a cut would strike her too. As a bounty hunter and in general, since she's tiny her fighting style mainly centered around the single idea of not getting hit. She stayed back and focused on distanced fighting, since while she was strong she could be overpowered by someone substantially larger than she is. Though, she did get injured more often, it thankfully wasn't the most frequent occurrence however. Save a few fights, mostly just scrapes and bruises if she got into actual close quarters fights. Either way, she apologized to her mysterious accident prone future partner each time.

She hadn't considered the strange man she decided to help as potentially being her soulmate when she'd stepped in for his sake; she'd only wanted to lend a hand and getting to hear that soft voice introduce the man as Vash happened to be an unforseen benefit. The cuts she received in the first fight they fought together she merely believed to be her own. Deciding to travel together was the best benefit of the day.

She fell in love before realizing he was her soulmate. She'd felt a twisting sense of anxiety when she felt herself falling, feeling as if she was betraying a person she hadn't met. But when she saw Vash get a cut and felt the same injury ooze fresh blood herself, she knew that there was nothing to apologize for. Vash is her soulmate. Elation and joy filled her, to know someone that wonderful is her soulmate. 

That joy stayed, but before she could tell him what she realized she remembered a conversation they'd had. Something she hadn't thought of.

"I'm pretty sure I have no soulmate." Vash had confessed. "And if I'm being truthful, part of me is relieved. I have too much to run from, I doubt I could be capable of treating a soulmate like they deserve to be; I'm not fit for love."

She felt that wasn't exactly true, but it told her something. Vash would feel more harm than excitement knowing they were soulmates, knowing each time he allowed himself to be injured it hurt her too. She couldn't tell him, just not then. Eventually, when he was more secure in himself and felt less tortured by whatever glimmered dark behind his gaze, she would tell him.

She hid her feelings and her scars. She always managed to dodge Vash helping clean any injuries, kept biting back on the ragged pain of gashes he wore to not reveal she felt it like him. She hid her emotions deftly, or perhaps he also just hadn't wanted to notice.

Her friends discovered the bond. Meryl roomed with her too often to not. Roberto was too eagle eyed to not notice. Wolfwood saw her flinch when Vash ran from shots. They pushed her to reveal this, but kept quiet at her asking.

Vash and Gill ran from an outlaw they'd managed to provoke in the crumbling town. Seperate for the time being, Gill found herself cornered. Out of ammo and no extras on her, she fought with her fists and spun kicks at her attacker, her signature long chain attached to her guns giving her help. Her opponent was certainly adept with the knife he brandished, skillfully dodging and slashing towards her.

He spun, pivoting on his foot as he prepared to lunge forward and attack her. Her back to the wall, she steadied her hands, ready to try disarming him. 

Then it became unnecessary; a blur of a red coat and sunshine hair bodied her attacker, grabbing hold of the wrist of the hand holding the weapon. Vash growled, wrestling with the attacker while they attempted to regain control of their knife. Vash is strong, she knew that though she couldn't help but worry.

"Vash ! Watch out !" She yelled out.

Vash grunted, the attacker slippery and not letting Vash get them in any sort of hold. "Run away !" He barked, attention of his battle. "I can handle this guy !"

"What? I can't do that !" She started to charge forward; if she helped Vash pin them it'd be safer that way ! She faltered at a stinging cut across the back of her hand, blood welling and slipping out in its wake. She wasn't cut, Vash was. 

She thought to hide her hand, but as she winced her eyes locked on his. He'd spun at the exact opportune second to see her. She knew from his face; he saw the cut appear from seemingly nothing, right when his hand was sliced. The attacker struggled in his grasp, bur for a second Vash looked like he couldn't tell he was fighting anybody. He just stared, eyes big and dare she call it horrified beneath their surface, as sound faded and he realized what that meant for them. The connection they share.

The attacker knocked into Vash, and he regained his sense to redouble his efforts in the fight. "Hurry and run ! Get away, now !" He yelled again.

She froze. "Vash, I'm." What? Sorry? 

Gill had pride in her skills. She knew she wasn't weak, but today she would say she's a coward. The shock of knowing Vash had figured everything out had her rooted in place. But when he commanded her to run, she couldn't help herself and thought only to hide herself, running away instead of helping him.

She raced around empty streets, sand flying in her wake. She only stumbled to a stop minutes later, falling in a heap behind a broken, small wall. Her eyes stung from the sand. Except, it wasn't sand in her eyes but fat, rolling tears. They fell to ground, soaking into the sand beneath her. How foolish of her.

She pulled her knees towards her, hugging them. Her hand continued to bleed and the cut became irritated from the sand in it, but she wasn't caring. He knew now. He knew they are soulmates. He probably also realized now that she already knew and hadn't told him. He'd probably call her a liar. She wasn't sure he'd want anything to do with a soulmate who kept that stuff hidden; she couldn't picture anyone wanting something like that.

Her tears slid off of her cheeks. She clutched the wrist of her injured hand, too tight. Maybe she should've told him the second she had realized their bond. But she just hadn't been able to; everytime she'd tried her throat felt like it had closed. She was a coward, now and then. She'd feared his rebuff, the sad look he'd give as he told her soulmate or no that he couldn't love her. She hadn't wanted him to leave her again.

She sat and cried amidst those circling thoughts for minutes upon stretched minutes. She hadn't heard the calls of her name at first as she was simply too distracted. She only heard it when it was spoken right beside her.

"Ah, Gill?" She looked, and Vash stood there. He towered above her where she was sitting, one hand on the wall and shielding her from the hot sun light. His expression was wide eyed and he looked a little breathless. He must have been running around, trying to find her it appeared. She curled tighter on herself; she felt bad enough and now she'd worried him more by making him guess where she'd hid. Vash slowly slid into a crouch next to her. He eyed her bleeding hand; he reached his own out towards it, and she could see he'd quickly wrapped a small piece of cloth around his cut before coming to look. "Does your hand hurt that bad?" He asked her, voice quiet like he worried it might shatter fragile glass.

She shook her head timidly. He's referring to her tears. "It's not my hand." She mumbled. After a pause, she also said. "You know exactly how much this cut hurts."

Vash flinched, just slightly. His gaze flicked to his hand, then right back to her's. He brought himself closer and, without her objecting, he gingerly grabbed her hurt hand. Holding it with his right, his prosthetic hand caressed her's with the same care; a light sliding of the back of his fingers, the metal warm and smooth. He wiped away some of the blood; the injury wasn't deep, though it stung a decent amount. He stared at her hand, thoughts stewing behind his gaze. Finally, he spoke again. "I'm not upset."

She looked from her knees back to his face. Though, currently his eyes were just on her hand. "You aren't?"

Vash shook his head. "Not at all." He chuckled, a little melancholy. "Definitely not at you." A sigh followed. "I can kind of guess why you'd hide that."

She hummed, just glad he's not pissed. "That's good." Her shoulders fall in relief.

Vash sits back, thumping quietly on the wall. "Yeah, I mean I wouldn't want me as a soulmate. Can't imagine how much I've hurt you without realizing; it makes total sense you'd not acknowledge the bond."

She pauses. Then, his meaning fully registers and she's surging forward. Now, Gill grabs his hands. "No, Vash; that's not why ! I wasn't trying not to acknowledge it !"

He's taken back by her insistence. "What, you weren't? Then, why?" He seems genuinely confused if he was wrong.

"It's, well, I was just scared. Not of you ! I was afraid that you wouldn't like me being your soulmate. You let yourself be reckless because you thought you had no soulmate to hurt, and though I hated you being harmed, I also knew realizing you have one would simply make you feel bad for letting them get hurt. You always seemed seconds away from getting crushed under the weight you shoulder, I never wanted to add anything to it." She bites her lip, the points of her teeth denting the plush surface, eyes on the dirt. Quickly, she lifts her head, eyes ablaze with a resolution. "I was just scared of you trying to pull away ! But it never had anything to do with not appreciating you. Vash, I love being your soulmate !" It's the first time she's acknowledged it actually out loud. For years, their soulmate bond has been a secret, chained and locked and set aside; but now, the fact is free and it's amazing. She can finally actually say it.

Vash's face is pink with a blush. He looks like he has to restart his senses before he finds something to say. "I've hurt you." He is nearly pleading for her to turn back, a final chance to push him back.

"I've hurt you too." She smiles, her decision made years ago. "We should take care of each other; you can wrap my injuries and I can wrap your's too. I know what being with you means, and it's not much different than what we are already. Vash, you can run as much as you need to; you wouldn't have a soulmate without the stamina to match." She squeezes his hands, right. She'd been terrified of Vash leaving her after discovering they're each other's true soulmate. But he knew now, which just meant she couldn't let him. She wouldn't let him leave just to try to protect her. She needs him to see it, her feelings for the one and the only gunman Vash the Stampede.

Vash's shoulders jump. His lip wobbles, almost unnoticed before he bites onto it. "You're unbelievable." He shudders; emotions well inside his eyes, more raw and crushingly vulnerable than he usually allows from himself. His own hands tighten in her's, trembling as they squeeze. He pulls Gill into a tight hug, hands grasping at her back like she's his shelter inside a howling sandstorm. "Thank you." For accepting him, for choosing him, there's countless meanings she reads.

She presses herself to him, hands gripping him with enough strength to keep herself there amidst the fiercest storms. Her nose buries into the crook of his neck, breathing in his scent. He smells of love.

They pull back after a couple minutes just enough to gaze at each other. "The feeling's mutual, darling." She sniffles.

They stand simultaneously, hands on each other's forearms. Tenderly, Vash uses a sleeve to wipe the dried tears off her cheeks. 

Vash's hand drifts to the base of her neck. His grip is warm. He holds her like she's more vital than water, and his eyes almost made her look away from the adoration they directed her way. "And to be straight; if anyone could be my soulmate, I'm glad that it's you, Gill."

Vash leads her back to their room. His hand pressing into her back, warmth seeping between her shoulders.

—

Vash was abuzz as he guided them back to their room. He explained as they went he'd left their attacker unconscious though it wouldn't be too long before they woke and came after them and it'd be probably be best to get out as soon as Meryl, Roberto, and Wolfwood returned. They'd taken the car for a bit a while ago but would be driving here by now.

He kept looking towards Gill, sneaking glances again and again while walking. He felt a bit light headed, but it wasn't bad. He'd thought for nearly two hundred years that he no longer had a soulmate. As a child, he knew he had one. Rather, he'd realized he'd had one then.

The long, precise scars fit in smoothly with the dozens of scars he'd acquired; but those weren't wounds he'd gotten. They'd appeared on him frequently, the wounds often deep and prodding. His back had cuts that would be reopened, and his arms would be bandaged periodically. His soulmate was injured like she was some sort of experiment, and it'd made him seethe when he connected that.

Those scars now cover his body. It'd been decades since he'd gotten anything linked to that soulmate. He'd assumed that he simply no longer had a soulmate; hed feel upset about that sometimes, but convinced himself to be glad no one is forced to stick by him. But now, it seems he'd gotten a new soulmate. It's happened, some people get multiple, and decades later he's been shown the greatest kindness he could picture. Someone granted him a best friend and his soulmate.

His stomach twisted. Worry knawed at his mind despite her reassurance, worry he'd ruin the person he cares about if she stays just because they're both soulmates. But he trusts her and knows deep within that no one but her could match his stride; he can believe they were made to be together as a duo.

The thought allowed some tension to leave him. To cowardly to look at her but craving something he couldn't place now, he blindly grabbed for her hand while they walked. His prosthetic fingers interlocked with her's and he felt her jump. He was about to wrench his hand back, preparing his profuse apologies, when she gripped back too. Her slender fingers squeezing the metal of his prosthetic. At that second he wanted to punch himself for not walking on her other side; because the feeling he gets from his metal limb is minimal and he wanted more than most anything then to feel the full warmth of her touching him. Later, he reminds himself as he squeezes her gentle hand, he can hold her with his other hand more later as well.

They make it to their room; a dirty, mostly empty place with their bags in the corner. They'd only come her briefly and there weren't any hotels around here which meant just light breaking and entering to a building that's been unoccupied a while. It worked decently.

Vash finally turned to Gill now. "How about you sit for a little bit? I can grab the alcohol and bandages."

"Sure, Vash." She quickly looks away after glancing into his eyes, her face pink. Has she always looked this cute? He's seen her most days for years, but he'd never allowed himself to dwell long on her looks. It would've made not falling in love much trickier then.

He stops, mid grabbing the stuff. Did he love her? He could feel the truth to it the second he asked. Fuck, he loves her. Obviously she's his soulmate and that typically translates into romance, but he hadn't thought about it. They aren't dating yet, he's fairly sure. But that yet makes him shiver. He wants her; wants her in every way she is kind enough to allow him to have her. Wants to protect her from anything that might hurt her. Wants to make her smile. Wants to devote himself entirely to her. He loves her. He loves her, he knows it.

Vash clumsily gets the stuff, turning back around to look at Gill on the bed. His throat bobs. He takes shaky steps towards her, willing his legs not to be jello as he views her anew. "Got it. Now, let's wrap your hand." He gives a nervous smile, gesturing with the bottle and wrapping he holds in each hand.

She smiles back, and he thinks it matches his own. "Only if you let me do yours after."

He laughs; of course she'd be prioritizing him. "Yeah, you can wrap mine." 

He kneels before her, deft fingers taking care of her tenderly. And when he's satisfied he gives the injury a kiss, soft and lingering just a couple seconds. When it's her turn, she treats him with the same care, gentle fingers and soothing touches like how he held her hand. He can barely believe he hadn't seen her feelings before or his own. He trembles at the sweet touch of her lips on the bandages.

He turns his hand, holding his rough palm to her soft cheek. How was he able to deny being in love from the first time he laid eyes on her, when locking eyes with her is like tumbling head first into a ravine he had no chance of climbing out of again. He never wanted to try. He wanted to fall and fall and fall deeper into her embrace.

"How's your hand?" He asks, half just to hear her respond.

"It's better." She says, her head nestling onto his palm. He thinks nothing has felt better in his hands before her. She brings her own to hold the back of his. The wrapping she wears shifting quietly when it rubs with his. 

He realizes he's yet to see her without her jacket or concealing stockings. Years of being friends, and not to say he's any sort of scoundrel constantly thinking about it, but he's never seen her with any fewer layers than she wears now, he's almost sure.

She'd bandaged many of his wounds before; she's seen nearly all his own scars. But now, he realizes that she's never shown herself to be wounded to him. He's never bandaged a cut if her's, none before her hand. He realizes that it was to ensure he wouldn't see that her scarring mirrored his. For every wound she helped him bandage and for every one he tried to hide, she had to have been clamping back on her own. He felt crashing waves of anger at himself; he should've noticed she was hurt.

Her clothing had changed slightly not long after she'd met him. It became more concealing, allowing her to hide scars and new blood stains. And convinced as he was that he was without a partner, he hadn't questioned it a bit.

He swallowed thickly. Before he could chicken out of asking, he voiced his thoughts. "Can I see the scars?" He asks her.

She pauses, and he sees some panic in her gaze, but it's quickly blinked off. "Are you sure?" She asks, and he knows that she already knows he is absolutely.

When he confirms it, she slowly goes to her boots. He backs off a bit as she takes them both off her feet, then her holsters and then the stockings, and with each inch of her legs she reveals he sees scars carving them. She removes her jacket after, and more jagged scarring reveals themself. She curls her shoulders in a. It looks like she feels naked with those shed layers and he feels bad already and has an urge to just tell her she can cover herself amidst hurried sorries. The scars he sees hold his tongue though; because he knows them each.

He sucks in a sharp gasp, his eyes roaming her. He knows gasping would probably make her feel self and knowing his own confidence issues surrounding his scars he shouldnt do something to shame her. The sound is involuntary, drawn out by the pain of seeing what hes done to the most lovely woman he knows. The only unfamiliar scars are on her left arm and legs, recent wounds that can't appear on the prosthetics. There's a decent amount, and as he stares he realizes many look like self defense wounds. These were definitely gathered after getting prosthetics on.

"You've been guarding with your left arm." He says. He does similar, using his prosthetics to minimize damage to himself. He's noticed her tendency for this, but hadn't dwelled on it 'til now.

She looks away. It seems her words clog inside of her throat. "I realized that if I made sure I got hurt there then you wouldn't be hurt also." She knows saying that is going to further his pain. He hates she felt she needed to work that in to her fighting technique just to avoid him getting hurt. Meanwhile he'd been pretty reckless with his own fighting and allowing himself to get harmed.

His eyes settle on her other arm where he does see familiar wounds. They litter her. He's glad the wounds soulmates share only go a certain depths; many of his more severe wounds wouldn't be damning to herself. He knows they hurt, however; she bled for him an unknowable amount of times, again and again.

He lingered on each injury, following their shapes wherever they travel. His hand grasps her arm in a careful hold. He glides to her bicep, holding her with reverence like he can erase each painful injury just with a caress.

His lips thinned; he can't take his gaze off her. He knows these, can pinpoint when each was made. And he freezes. Because he does know when all of these were made. His eyes bounce between injuries. Wounds he got decades ago.

A wound a soulmate gets won't appear on their soulmate if they aren't born when it happened. He'd been running around this planet for a century and a half nearly before she supposedly was born. His body freezes, an unfamiliar sensation in the desert. She shouldn't have more than half these scars. Not the ones he'd gotten from decades of running, not the ones from before his limbs were taken from him, not the ones from when he was a kid.

He focuses on the neat scars on her arm. Some of the few scars not from him. Scars he's stared at thousands and thousands and thousands of times. Scars from a century and a half ago. Scars from what he'd thought was a soulmate he would never be able to meet. These scars are scars she should not have.

Some can have multiple soulmate's. But if that soulmate had been around decades before her birth, then she definitely wouldn't have gotten their wounds. But that meant a single option that left him utterly frozen. Those are her injuries. She somehow got these herself.

But how? Vash had been silent a while. "Uh, can I ask you something?" His voice is hoarse.

She notices the way he's tensed and it has made her fidget more than she had been. Gill plays with her own clothes whenever she's keeping her fingers occupied. Those fingers with little faded scratches from both of them twist her jacket. She stands abruptly, laughing anxiously. She's too filled with anxious energy to sit. 

She side steps around him, now playing with her skirt. He turns and stands as she does, facing her in the suddenly tiny bedroom. "Yeah, what?" She looks small gazing upwards at him.

"Are you sure you're human?" He rushes the question and knows it sounds strange. But he can't explain any other way she could have those injuries; he probably wouldnt go to that option if he wasnt inhuman either. He flexes his own scared fingers.

She stops, and she looks at him. "What does that mean, why wouldn't I be a human?"

He bites his cheeks, finding the correct way to say something insane. "It's just that, I got a decent amount of those decades ago. And those other scars were ones I got with the soulmate bond as a kid. But, you shouldn't have them if you're only about twenty."

Her brows come together. She looks confused, unsettled, and he wouldn't be mad if she thought he had gone off his rocker. "Vash that's, what would I be?"

He isn't sure. He's not aware of many humanoid species out there. The only other option is one that he hadn't considered he'd meet another of. Something he thought there were only two of including himself. "Um, I know it's weird, but well, it's possible." Hes stumbling on each word.

She puts her hands out, head shaking as she denies him. "No, I know that I'm human. Obviously that's the case. I am. I'm human." As she rambles, he sees her breathing a little heavier, her eyes taking on something far off and away. She's not truly looking at anything he can see anymore.

He feels something, some energy around them both, coming from her. He realizes why it seems familiar just as she shudders. "Gill, you aren't human." His eyes widen.

She trembles and her eyes hold that distant expression. Rolling waves of confusion come off of her, they resonate with the distinctly inhuman part of him. Plants have a distinct ability to communicate between each other without words. "I'm not." She whispers. She gasps, tripping forward and barely catching herself.

His hands reach for her but stop before grabbing her. Glowing lines, beautifully blue, curl along her body in geometric patterns. The patterns of a plant. But those lights flicker and the panic and confusion coming from her almost causes him to stumble backwards. 

"Hey hey ! It's alright ! Hey, come on and look at me." He tries reaching her, but she looks terrified. Her eyes darting around, seeing stuff he can't. He's not sure what she's experiencing but realizing she isn't human has definitely triggered something in her memories.

She steps away from him, hands twisting into her hair. "I can't. What is this, where, when, what am I? Not, no, no I'm a plant. Of course. I, did I just forget? The garden. No, not our garden. Our garden?" Nothing she says exactly makes sense.

With each word she looks more confused. Her panic continues growing as the markings flicker wildly. And Vash's panic increases too. He can barely stand the resonating feeling. He can sense her deteriorating, and the intense worry that unless he does something her spiral is simply going to drag her further in makes him shiver.

Not knowing what he's doing, he surges towards her. He grabs her face, cupping it with both of his hands, and presses their foreheads together. The first instinct he gathers is what he has done to many plants who are in trouble. Though where he'd usually ask for the connection, he forces this. The incredible weight of her confusion buckles his own knees, but he stays firm and presses onward. "Forgive me. I promise to help you. You're safe." His hands have threaded with her's, held aloft beside them.

Her breathing becomes even. Slowly, her markings fade. On a sigh quiet as a whisper, she slumps to the ground and he quickly has to move and catch her. Holding her, soundly unconscious now, he pushes the hair out of her face as he checks on her. Asleep, but uninjured. He can't feel any confusion from her now. Vash sighs, now allowing himself to catch his breath. He hugs her, tight, restraining himself only to avoid bruising her.

He's going to keep his word. He told her she's safe, and as shaky as his body is, knowing she's a plant can't change his feelings for her. His own confusion swirls in his mind, but determination chases after. He's going to figure this out with her, whatever made her forget and fall apart as she had he's going to stop. He won't let her stay confused. As her soulmate, he owes it to her. He can sort his questions later, right now, he just wants to hold her forever.

[silverynight]

Meryl notices that Nicholas is looking sad (and by this point she knows enough to guess he's probably thinking about the orphanage) and reluctantly decides to share her ultimate weapon against sorrow.

"Come over here, Wolfwood!" She orders as she grabs him by the jacket to make him lean closer before whispering a secret to his ear. "Got it?"

"Why would I do that? I don't care about–"

"Do you want to feel better or not? Besides, it's too late to pretend you don't like him!"

Nicholas huffs, but he does sit next to Vash who's talking with Roberto; the older man can pretty much guess what's going to happen and is already rolling his eyes at the three of them, especially Meryl.

"Needle-Noggin!"

"Wolfwood? What is–"

As soon as Nicholas' fingers start running through Vash's hair, the blond melts, smiles happily and drops all over Wolfwood's lap. He wraps his arms around the man's middle before nuzzling against him like a very content puppy.

Nicholas tries not to smile, but he fails miserably and he knows it so he chooses to ignore Meryl's smug grin and keeps petting Vash who is already closing his eyes and melting into the touch.

[soltiana]

tristamp ep 11 ramble

I almost forgot that if I had longform (IF INCOHERENT) thoughts about something I could just...blog about them?? i'm still getting used to having this power again. cut for spoilers of course, this ep was so fucked (positive). I have thoughts/hopes for the finale too but I'll keep those to myself so I don't get hooked on them lol whatever will be will be.

meryl and wolfwood exchange pretty standard pleasantries. it's obvious ww is going to come back to try to help vash despite his contract. i still think his chances of making it out alive are pretty good, but i guess we'll find out.

then we're directly thrown into the pussy juice tank. like. last week the episode ended on knives throwing vash into what looked like an oversized version of a plant bulb container, so I was like haha he threw him into the pussy juice funny :) but tristamp pointed directly at me and was like this person knows exactly what we're doing here. what a smart person. yes. the entire tank is pussy juice and it's FILLED TO THE BRIM WITH KNIVES' EGGS. there are plant "buds" everywhere, following up on conrad's discussion last week about how knives has been "helping" him create the perfect living creatures, like himself, but the conclusion they had both come to is that knives' offspring were missing an ingredient, what humans call a soul. the new plant lore dropping is that while humans originally created plants they don't quite understand where their powers come from, other than a "higher source" (god).

tesla vash and knives are what conrad and other plant scientists call "independents" because they have:

souls (from the higher power, presumably)

wills of their own

biological non-independent plant mothers (who died giving birth to them)

and, according to conrad's analytics, while knives "gate" is receptive to the higher power from god, vash's "gate" can not only receive but transmit this higher power (souls) as well. in other words vash is. just. chock full of sperm. he's a humanoid vector for getting other creatures god pregnant, so since they couldn't air vash literally fucking knives pregnant, they settled for him inseminating knives' dozens of pre-laid eggs like a horrifyingly beautiful deep sea nature documentary.

so to get back to the meat of the episode, knives connects his body to vash by stabbing into him with his chains of knife tentacles, and immediately after losing his senses from this black roots begin to grow out of the points the two brothers are connected. the roots seek out each of the eggs, and glowing energy begins to transfer, through knives' manipulation, from vash into each of the eggs.

then we take a trip inside of the twins shared headspace and watch knives brainwash vash one memory at a time, erasing his past for him so that he can be wiped completely blank. when this process reaches a critical point, vash's external body starts reacting defensively - this part is speculation but i think he senses that knives is seeking his memories of rem, and starts instinctively re-creating her before it even happens. so new roots start to grow, this time straight down, following vash's will instead of his brother's, and through the rest of the episode this set of roots expands and becomes a monstrously enormous tree literally in the shape of rem, covered in bio-luminescent blue geraniums.

this is also the moment where instead of knives seeking vash's memories, vash begins visiting knives' instead. vash begins appearing both in memory form as well as his current dream self, which implies a subtle growing grip that vash has on the situation, despite being at 90% synchronization physically. so it's vash who starts entering doors in the ship that leads to knives' memories, beautifully complimented by the fact that the next one he accesses is him solving a problem knives can't figure out on his own. we get our tesla reveal moment and it's fucking incredible.

birthday confirmed canon july 21 happy birthday boys. it also says they were born in the year 2455 so let's just hang in there a couple hundred more years and say hi to them.

vash looks into another door that rings with mechanical sounds, but when he tries to enter it knives takes him instead to the rec room, where they both seem to be recovering from their discovery of tesla. the mechanical door memory is skipped, either for vash, the viewer, or both. in a reversal of their manga conversations where knives is more manipulative and vash is more depressive, knives despairs of human wrongdoing while vash urges knives to have faith in humanity's ability to change. knives interprets this to mean that vash, who has no powers of his own, feels the need to bow to human might and expectation out of self preservation, and makes up his mind to eradicate them so he doesn't have to. adult knives appears in the memory he's curated to explain this, and to tell vash once again that the fall was his fault, since knives did it all for him, to protect his vulnerable twin from human cruelty.

this is the point of mind break for vash, and knives, taking advantage of that vulnerability, becomes empowered and moves in to finally remove rem from vash's memories. symbolically, as soon as he does, vash's red coat carbonates, and knives synchronization (the tristamp version of melding from the manga) reaches 100%. with no memories left to access, we return to knives in the physical world, quietly elated, wishing his brother a happy birthday since believes he has literally re-made him in his own (rem-free) image. while knives and his plant eggs all give off light in the pussy juice tank, no part of vash is glowing anymore, he only reflects light.

then (through vash's power) knives opens the final pussy, the opening to the higher plane where plant power is drawn from. this is the moment that vash's mega-rem geraniums begin to bloom as well. and the plant eggs, still attached to vash's insemination roots, open, revealing non-independent female plants that are connected to vash via their enormously swollen pregnant bellies.

conrad is revealed to be dying, a hostage knives took as an adolescent to fulfill his wishes. this is not news but it is sexy. the knives conrad relationship in tristamp is weird and really good. knives finally disconnects from vash, leaving his motionless shell behind in the pussy juice tank as he crosses through the gate vash opened for him. all the while, vash's giant rem tree is growing, literally suffocating the entire city of july and killing or driving its people to flee. at the moment that knives seems about to make contact with the core he believes to be the source of their power, vash's tree rem fully takes form, and blooms.

[eomma-jpeg]

Hey for the faad ask meme! 1, 2, 8, 26, 29, and 38!! Have a banger day my friend :33

Describe your comfort zone—a typical you-fic.

answered here !

2. Is there a trope you’ve yet to try your hand at, but really want to?

i think i haven't really truly done enemies to lovers, because at first i tried to make ITM enemies to lovers but Milly can't make enemies LOL so it had to become the "he's mean to everyone except her" trope

i think i'd love to write a fantasy au. im a SUCKER for fantasy and i uhhhh have a My Hero Academia fantasy au just in my drive that i don't think i'll ever finish but MAYBE i can get myself to write a trigun one lolol

8. Share a snippet from one of your favorite dialogue scenes you’ve written and explain why you’re proud of it.

okay ! this is from chapter 31 (the most recent chapter as of today) of ITM... i talk about in the meadow so much im so sorry yall

Picking at the stir fry, Meryl let out a heavy sigh and slumped onto her elbows as soon as Milly left the room, “We need to do something.” Vash’s mouth was full, “Wha’ maes yo ‘ink we ‘an do a’y’ing?” Meryl just glared at him, a hint of disgust on her brow. He swallowed, “What makes you think we can do anything?” Sighing again, “I don’t know, but I just hate seeing Milly like this. She was so excited about the planting just a few days ago and now… now she seems kind of lifeless.” Vash nodded in agreement, “She was already stressed about the reunion, which thankfully seemed to mellow out thanks to you and Knives, but something's keeping them apart,” he set his fork down, “But what are we supposed to do, Meryl? Just ask what’s wrong?” “That normally works for me. Milly doesn’t like to bundle things up, except I guess when it came to Wolfwood,” Meryl confessed, “But even then, she eventually gave in.” Vash was silent as he internalized her words. Then, he said, “It’s hard for me to do that with Knives. He’s hesitant to share with me.” “How do you know?” she questioned. “Hmm?” “Have you tried to ask?” Vash opened his mouth to answer, but he just froze. Meryl chuckled. He relaxed, “Not explicitly.”  Meryl nearly rolled her eyes, “Vash, you should try asking him. I know you two are twins and all, but that connection can only go so far before you have to actually speak to each other.” Screwing his lips in displeasure, Vash said, “I’ve spoken to him before about…” he paused again, eyes nervously passing over her, “About our shared past, but I guess that was the last time we really spoke in depth.” Meryl couldn’t deny the satisfaction that filled her as he revealed a sliver of information about himself, “Then go right now. I’ll talk to Milly, and you should actually talk to Knives.” "But, Meryl-" "No 'but's!" she said with a point of her finger, "Just do! You're normally really good at that." Vash, in a last ditch effort, pulled out those round, watery eyes, staring at her and Meryl felt her footing slip. No, she told herself, not this time. She needed him to help her get to the bottom of whatever was going on between Knives and Milly, and some silly puppy dog eyes and pouting lips were not going to get her, no matter how cute. "Just because you know those eyes have worked in the past doesn't mean they will now," and Meryl pinched his cheek with vigor. Grimacing in pain as well as he could with only one cheek, Vash said, "That doesn't make any sense, Mer." "It would if you had your head on right," she released him, and he rubbed at the skin with his palm. Then it was her turn to turn pitying eyes on him, "Please, Vash?" Meryl watched his breath hitch and she had to stop herself from smiling with smug satisfaction. Instead, she intensified her look with a soft hand on his cheek. "I know what you're doing," he said quietly, "but I'll allow it, for now," then he snuck a kiss onto the inside of her wrist and Meryl felt her ears warm. "Just-" she started, flustered, "Just go do what I asked," then she marched out of the house while Vash chuckled behind her.

i just don't write as much silly dialogue as i wish i did and i really liked this interaction. I think i'd like to play more with scenes that don't require description ? like just straight up dialogue, but I get nervous that me and the audience will get lost so i have yet to be brave enough to do that.

26. Do you beta yourself? If so, what kind of beta are you?

i do beta for myself ! @noaafishfieldguide my beloved squid reads my chapters before hand lol but I normally go over my own work because im Obsessive and need to make things smooth and clear and less choppy. and sometimes i need to fix things and i don't want to bother my beta to just rewrite for me lol

as a beta for others i love to just fix grammar and continuity lol I have a bad habit of reading other's works and going "oop, that sentence needs to be restructured" T-T i wonder if its the fact that i've written so many essays in my life.

29. If you could write the sequel (or prequel) to any fic out there not written by yourself, which would you choose?

hmmmm this is a hard one.

there is... a kacchako (bnha) fic called Don't Ask Don't Tell and it is one of my favorite fics on the internet,,, and while there is a sequel by the author i think I would love to write a lil sequel myself of adult Bakugou and Ochako as team pro heroes working together and kicking evil's butt (and maybe write some hurt/comfort bc i need it lol)

38. Talk about a review that made your day.

so i will always rave about @veilder because she leaves the best reviews on my works and they're so in depth and analytical that it makes me cry and reevaluate my own work, but my fav review from her is this one

apologies if its blurry but it made me SCREAM with laughter when i saw it in my inbox ledkjflejfelj

also ! squid (@noaafishfieldguide) has read all of in the meadow.... and knows my secrets, but here's her reaction to the final chapter so yall can be excited hehe