humanitysong
geranium heart.
independent vash the stampede from the trigun franchise.
adored by vivi .
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Black hair Saverems. Like mother like sons.
#[ Ohh this looks beautiful ;; !!! absolutely adore this op the way you draw smiles is !!!!! so pretty]#❝ ᵃⁿᵈ ᶦ'ˡˡ ᵏᵉᵉᵖ ᵒⁿ ʳᵘⁿⁿᶦⁿᵍ ᵘⁿᵗᶦˡ ᶦ ᶜᵃⁿ ˢᵉᵗᵗˡᵉ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ᵇʸ ᵗʰᵉᶦʳ ˢᶦᵈᵉ; ᵃᵍᵃᶦⁿ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵃᵍᵃᶦⁿ ❞╱ portrait .#❝ ᵗʰᵉˢᵉ ᵈᵃʸˢ ᴵ ᵗʰᶦⁿᵏ ᴵ ᵒʷᵉ ᵐʸ ˡᶦᶠᵉ ᵗᵒ ᶠˡᵒʷᵉʳˢ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ʷᵉʳᵉ ˡᵉᶠᵗ ʰᵉʳᵉ ᵇʸ ᵐʸ ᵐᵒᵗʰᵉʳ ❞╱ rem .#❝ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ʷʰᵉⁿ ʸᵒᵘ ʷᵉʳᵉ ʸᵒᵘⁿᵍ ᶦ ʳᵉᵐᵉᵐᵇᵉʳ ʸᵒᵘʳ ᵉʸᵉˢ ʷᵉʳᵉ ᶜˡᵉᵃʳ ❞╱ knives .
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@forgivenpunishment replied : "this is so unfair. you know i'll give you a donut anyway, but you're so mean."
not a mean bone in his entire body ! it's not his fault he's small, fluffy and cute in this form. now come on, where is that donut !
#forgivenpunishment#❝ ᵖᵃᶦʳˢ ᵒᶠ ᶠᵒᵒᵗˢᵗᵉᵖˢ ᶜʳᵒˢˢᶦⁿᵍ ᵒⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ˢᵃⁿᵈ ❞╱ threads .#❝ ˡᵒᵛᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵖᵉᵃᶜᵉ ʷᶦᵗʰ ᵃ ˢᶦᵈᵉ ᵒᶠ ᵈᵒⁿᵘᵗˢ ❞╱ crack .
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it's fine not giving wolfwood a cheeseburger but would you give him a donut?
#dash comm tbt.#❝ ᵖᵃᶦʳˢ ᵒᶠ ᶠᵒᵒᵗˢᵗᵉᵖˢ ᶜʳᵒˢˢᶦⁿᵍ ᵒⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ˢᵃⁿᵈ ❞╱ threads .#❝ ˡᵒᵛᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵖᵉᵃᶜᵉ ʷᶦᵗʰ ᵃ ˢᶦᵈᵉ ᵒᶠ ᵈᵒⁿᵘᵗˢ ❞╱ crack .
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hmm, answering drafts is hard so like this for some fluff or potential hurt/comfort fluff . mutuals only .
#[ & mb our muses should have some type of bond ]#[ sorry my mood is a bit questionable today so i am combating it with fluff ]#❝ ᶦⁿᵗᵉʳᵃᶜᵗᶦᵒⁿ ᶜᵃˡˡ ❞╱ ooc .
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"no...no I did." the words come out too fast, nearly panicking. the thought wolfwood could even consider that vash didn't care made him want to shrink. that is the one lie he would never be able to keep up.
he lets wolfwood speak, teal eyes looking at him with nothing but grief. he leans into the touch, nuzzling his cheek against the warm palm offered to him. "you had to endure so much pain all your life. do you really want to remember that? everyone will still care about you, memories or not."
over 150 years - vash should be stronger than this. he should be able to patch wolfwood up before leaving saying that no, he never knew him. that he should find happiness here with these people and have a normal life. but maybe all those years of loss had thinned his walls... and they break the moment wolfwood speaks those last sentences.
tearing up he ends up clinging to the hand by his cheek like he is praying to it "you meant everything to me. you made me care about not just surviving but living... you were the reason I wanted to see a tomorrow. there is nothing you could ever do that would change that."
"You... didn't know and care for me...?"
Sure, Wolfwood would love to meet the people he was closest to—it'll probably help—but he also wants to meet, er, 'meet,' this man too. Vash. He... he let Vash down. That much he knows is true—there was something important that happened after, and he should've been there for it.
But he wasn't. He doesn't even know what it was. The guilt eats at him all the same.
"I don't know," he mumbles, confused, "Usually if I get hurt it's my own damn fault. Besides, don't I deserve to know who I was even if it was bad? I'm... kinda lookin' for anything."
Wolfwood doesn't necessarily want to be mean to the man patching him up, but his mind is yelling at him to call Vash an idiot—and he is being an idiot, so it makes sense, but...
"That place was important to me. Unless you dragged me all the way there to be buried during some kind of apocalyptic event, I must've been there for my own reasons. Stop blaming yourself so much, idiot."
At this, he can't help himself anymore. He can't take those sad eyes looking at him—or avoiding looking at him. Wolfwood releases the hand holding Vash's and reaches up to cup his cheek. His face fits perfectly into his palm, like this is familiar.
Like this is right.
"It hurts to look at you like this. Did I really mess things up so badly that you don't want anything to do with me?"
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hearing his name being spoken again by this voice... vash is seconds away from pulling the other into his arms and begging him to stay. but he does not want to be selfish and overwhelm wolfwood. a choked sound escapes him when he's immediately called by that familiar nickname.
"...not needle noggin anymore" he mumbles. he hasn't styled his hair in ages. he must look more like his time as eriks. not that wolfwood would remember.
his hold tightens a little bit around the other's hand, an instinct to feel his warmth at any time. "what if the before isn't good?" he asks instead of answering the questions. "it's my fault you got hurt" his fault that wolfwood died - had he even died? vash had been so sure but then... the other one is sitting right in front of him, bleeding even. ghosts don't bleed.
he slowly starts to unwrap the bandages to clean up the wounds again and put new ones on. his hands are gentle and careful, ever so aware of how human wolfwood is. it be easier to pretend not to know him, to shrug it off but that would be cruel towards the girls and livio.
"the before for you wasn't pretty. I... I can bring you to the people who knew you and cared about you but maybe not remembering isn't bad" the other three might agree with him ( or not, livio probably would but the girls? ).
"Vash..." Wolfwood repeats the name in an awed whisper, staring somewhere beyond Vash's face. The name sounds familiar, but feels unfamiliar on his tongue. Where has he heard that before? Why does it ring a bell?
"Hm," he hums, analyzing him now, "Needle-noggin."
Wolfwood's not sure where that name came from, the man has soft, messy hair. There's not a needle in sight. It must be from before he woke up... but... it's such a fond nickname...
He furrows his brow, still not releasing Vash's hand. Nicholas may not remember exactly who this is, but one thing is for certain:
"You're from... before," he accidentally mutters, revealing just how strange he really is. A man risen from his grave—like this man would believe him. There is no delicate way to phrase what his mind would like to know. "Were we close?"
Releasing Vash's hand, Wolfwood shifts to make it easier for Vash to bandage him up. This is too familiar—like a case of deja vu. The way Vash looks at him both makes his heart constrict and makes it leap; there are too many complex feelings for this man to not be a key person in his life. After searching for a lead on his past for over a year, it finally looks like he found something. Or something found him.
"The people here are good, but I'm not particularly close to any of them. I just protect settler caravans while I try to piece together who I was before I... before. Just before."
Why is he revealing so much? Maybe he already knows?
"You're doin' somethin' funny to my brain."
And his heart, but Vash doesn't need to know that part.
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checked my multi & apparently I have written va.sh for over a year now ...can't believe he stuck that long & I cannot believe my guidelines still refer to this as a 'test blog / muse' .
#[ test my butt i am fully invested in him now even if i am slow af ]#❝ ᶦᵗ ᶦˢ ᵃⁿ ᶦᵈᶦᵒᵗ ᵗᵃˡᵏᶦⁿᵍ ❞╱ ooc .
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"still not entirely how I remember them" he has yet to see the posters from this timeline, the only ones he knew were the ones with his own face.
the mentioning of november makes him tilt his head just a little bit. "you keep track of who puts out the bounty?" but if the bounty still existed it must mean that vash has yet to meet the girls and be declared a natural disaster. not that it really stopped people from trying to get to him.
his gaze softens but he cannot offer any words of comfort. julai's blood would stain their hands, no matter the circumstances. he knows better than to offer an empty 'but has it really been your fault?'. all he can offer are words for this vash not to make the same mistakes. "...don't try to run from the memories. they will catch up to you and if you suppress them and they spill out of you it might be worse." meryl's terrified expression haunts him to this day.
"but I am sorry. I know it hurts."
"...Something like that," Vash chuckles. What a life it would've been, to settle down somewhere and hide—to change his name and avoid his problems forever. The man's vibrant eyes even shimmer through the flickering of flame.
He doesn't believe it is a coincidence, but perhaps it's best they don't talk about it.
"My hair's a little longer, and the smile in the picture is a little brighter, but the man on the wanted posters is me. I think it's November this time that's offering the bounty."
Flames crickle-crackle as the wood snaps and breaks under the heat. A stray worm perches from a nearby rock—surely taking note of his activities to report to an old friend. Something like a friend, anyway.
"Y-yeah. I did something—I don't remember—but it's my fault that the whole city is a crater now... My friends... I don't know. They might be dead too."
Meryl and Roberto. Wolfwood. All those people...
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vash shudders, thinking about any world where he was capable of the things this knives described. he had never managed to truly overcome the memories of what his powers could do and to think he'd willingly use them to harm people...
"I think the roles are reversed then" he finally concludes and sighs. "though I would not call my brother insane." that might be the scarier part of it. knives didn't fall for some grand illusion, everything he did was calculated. everything he did made sense - from his perspective at least.
"he's scared, not that he would admit it but I think he is terrified of what humanity could do so he wants to create a world without them, one that is a paradise for plants. is that similar to what your brother is planning?"
"For one thing, the town would already be completely razed to the ground and on fire if you were my brother," he answers dryly. Knives, in control of Julai? That'd be helpful honestly. Shame it's not true. "Also safehouses. Multiple."
He finally lets the knife dissolve back into flesh, still wary but trusting he's fast enough to respond if this turns out to be a trick. The implication that there's more than one Vash...
Well, the higher dimension is a strange place, and he and Vash had once played with the idea of a multiverse when Rem had been teaching them science classes... He puts the thought aside.
"He's insane."
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the mention of the orphanage freeze vash right in his steps, teal eyes widening as his fingers form fists around the fabric of his shirt. he could make himself believe that a man existed that just so happened to look like wolfwood. who knew, maybe his parents had another child...
...but he could not explain why said stranger would wake up at hopeland. and when the other sits down it all but confirms things for the plant. he knows wolfwood's body. he still remembers cleaning him before placing him in that grave. if wolfwood had survived then the scars left by the bullets would be plastered exactly where the man had his own fair share of scars.
so this is wolfwood. if not confirmed by where he woke up and the scars then at the very least by remembering his full name.
wolfwood is alive. and wolfwood does not remember him.
"my name is vash and don't worry about it, I don't mind..." vash isn't sure how he can keep his voice controlled like that. he takes a deep breath to calm his nerves before kneeling down and shaking wolfwood's hand. "if you are that eager to get back into action I assume these people are good to you? are you happy here?"
Wolfwood wishes he had his sunglasses on—something about the way the other man looks at him makes him want to curl up; he doesn't want the man to see him like this. Yes, he wants to see this man and spend time with him—especially if he's resonating with his mind like this—but for him to see Wolfwood so injured, bloodied... The weight is unbearable.
"Y-yeah," he clears his throat and tries to sit confidently, failing to do so when the pain in his abdomen flares at the stretch, "Ah—I mean, yeah. They found me just outside of Hopeland. I didn't make it too far before I passed out, and I was lucky I wasn't worm-food, you know?" Wolfwood punctuates his explanation with an awkward chuckle. He literally may have been worm-food, for all he knows. He tries not to think about that.
It's hard to look this man in the eye without feeling heavy. Without feeling that he... failed him somehow. He must've run into him somewhere—that has to be it. He'd remember the shaggy black hair, blue-blue eyes, and the little beauty mark right below his left eye. This man is gorgeous, as embarrassing as it is to admit to himself, if he was a part of his life sometime before, it'd be absolutely insulting if he'd forgotten him.
Looking down and away, Wolfwood pushes the blanket down to reveal tender muscle peppered with puffy, irritated flesh that disappears beneath bloody bandages. Blood-crusted hair dusts him chest to groin, covering well-defined pectorals and abdominal muscles. This is how he found himself when he woke up. Maintaining this physique hasn't been difficult with the work he's been doing.
"Glad to have you as part of the team. Could always use another able-bodied gunman on our side. Feels like there's not enough of us, 'specially when compared to the bad guys."
Sorry.
Wolfwood swallows. What would he even apologize for?
"Sorry you're carryin' my part of the burden for a little while. I get better pretty fast though, so don't feel like you have to stay if you... don't want to."
...He really hopes the man wants to stay. Really hopes.
"Least I can offer you is a name—I at least remember that much," the gray-eyed man flashes a too-familiar grin towards Vash and weakly holds a hand out for him to shake, "Nicholas D. Wolfwood."
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Munday meme: Send me your thoughts about my blog / portrayal.
**Note, this is not an invitation to send intentionally mean-spirited / hateful asks. if you have nothing nice to say don't say anything at all**
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okay but what would your muse do walking in on va.sh in a nice dress, clearly feeling cute & all ??
#❝ ᶦᵗ ᶦˢ ᵃⁿ ᶦᵈᶦᵒᵗ ᵗᵃˡᵏᶦⁿᵍ ❞╱ ooc .#[ i need distraction while i am packing. gonna be gone for 3 days ]#[ & learn about how libraries can use comics & graphic novels to make teens read more ]
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some comms of plume done by raepliica over on twitter ! please do not reblog, the artist plans on posting all their comms to their platforms in the future & I would much rather have people reblog those then !
#❝ ᵃⁿᵈ ᶦ'ˡˡ ᵏᵉᵉᵖ ᵒⁿ ʳᵘⁿⁿᶦⁿᵍ ᵘⁿᵗᶦˡ ᶦ ᶜᵃⁿ ˢᵉᵗᵗˡᵉ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ᵇʸ ᵗʰᵉᶦʳ ˢᶦᵈᵉ; ᵃᵍᵃᶦⁿ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵃᵍᵃᶦⁿ ❞╱ portrait .#[ anyway plume should be told that hes very cute and pretty ]
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some comms of plume done by raepliica over on twitter ! please do not reblog, the artist plans on posting all their comms to their platforms in the future & I would much rather have people reblog those then !
#❝ ᵃⁿᵈ ᶦ'ˡˡ ᵏᵉᵉᵖ ᵒⁿ ʳᵘⁿⁿᶦⁿᵍ ᵘⁿᵗᶦˡ ᶦ ᶜᵃⁿ ˢᵉᵗᵗˡᵉ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ᵇʸ ᵗʰᵉᶦʳ ˢᶦᵈᵉ; ᵃᵍᵃᶦⁿ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵃᵍᵃᶦⁿ ❞╱ portrait .#[ anyway plume should be told that hes very cute and pretty ]
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...i wanna write lil va.sh sb go and adopt him.
#[ since usually only re.m & kni.ves know lil va.sh...well in stampede theres ofc also home ]#❝ ʷᶦˢʰˡᶦˢᵗ ❞╱ ooc .
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the confusion seems to be equal on both their sides because vash crosses his arms, raising an eyebrow "the knives I know doesn't have a safehouse. doesn't need one since he has julai"
his eyes wander to the weapon - power wise this man and brother at least seem the same. "I know. and I guess you know I am vash - or a vash, maybe?" knowing that plants had access to a higher dimension, vash can already assume what happened.
....he'd panic about that one later. once he knew more about this place.
"you seem to expect me to behave differently. what is your brother like?"
Vash, lay low? The knife shifts against his skin. Vash, not slaughtering the entire town for merely existing?
"This is my safehouse." Had been for years, even. The townsfolk allowed him to use it, and in return he kept a low profile, misdirected his brother's little tantrums and didn't draw attention to himself. If this idiot had just waltzed in without bothering to ensure he wasn't even being watched–if he'd just walked through town looking like that, they'd likely hated him on sight.
Especially when he looks nearly identical to the monster everyone fears.
A breath. Right. Alright, he can deal with this. Knives pinches his nose, trying to stave off the headache he can already feel forming behind his eyes.
"I'm Knives." Not any point hiding it, like there wasn't wanted posters everywhere, Vash demanding humanity give back his brother or face the consequences. The man would know his name the next time he set foot outside and looked at a wall.
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"what do you mean who am I? who are you!" clearly not the knives he knows. his brother would not be this cautious, he'd just directly attack anyone who he did not want near him - or at least threaten them.
the man before him seems tense but there isn't the aggressiveness and anger he came to expect from his brother ( if anger is even the right word. wrath might be more fitting ).
"there was an accident with a plant I tried to help - she had an energy outburst and when I regained conscious I came here to lay low." the village didn't seem to appreciate when they found him there. "I often use this place to hide...I think" vash looks around, frowning a little "I didn't leave it looking like that though."
@humanitysong || this isn't right
"...You're not my brother. Who the hell are you?" For one thing, he isn't insane. His eyes are too clear to be Vash, vision unclouded by madness. He has a prosthetic for another; Vash would never have consented to such a human object attached to him.
Knives shifts, fingers curling around a knife that spikes from his palm warily. "How did you get here?"
That too was a sign that this wasn't his brother. Vash hasn't left Julai in a century, not when it's the seat of his power. And Knives know how to hide from his brother, keep his ever searching gaze from finding him. No, even if Vash had left his vaunted towers, he'd never find one of Knives' safehouses.
Not without Zazie sounding an alarm.
His eyes flick past the false plant, checking just to be sure. No Wolfwood, so not sent by his brother.
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