@wolfsmuses. // WOLFWOOD&VASH. // link to ask.

"Ah hell," he can't help but rub the back of his head at the sincere agreement from vash. "Goin' all sentimental on me... well, guess I sort've started it, huh?" he laughs softly, shaking his head and leaning back on his hands as he stares up at the sky. "If you had the chance, would you do it all again? Change maybe one thing, maybe even two or three- but would you go through all of it again just to have the few lasting memories y'got?"

"You can try to take me back,"

two different guns snap into place.

"but you'll hafta try a little harder than that."

you said this was going to end badly. - woowo

inbox call. / @bybullets. / wolfwood & vash.

"I say a lotta things, Blondie, that doesn't mean you should take it to heart!" it's a reluctant way of admitting defeat on the matter, slumped against his companion back to back in much the same manner as perhaps once or twice before after a particularly rough meeting of the minds so to speak.

he didn't care for this, not one damn bit, but at the end of the day it beat what he was doing before. but he can't even begin to fathom the pouting that's going to be happening his way in a moment here. "And don't'cha start that pout of yours." worse yet: vash might even smile at him.

misplacedreporter said: "And you wouldn't eat me." It's not a question.

"Meryl." the tone is halfway between another taken breath and a sigh, that downward hit of being stared at while also trying to judge the best case to move on with the conversation.

"... I have a moral dilemma for ya, actually, it's been buggin' me and Spikey. Well, it doesn't bug him, he's got his answer, but we don't agree. Got it? Okay," uh oh. "Say there's a person beggin' ya to kill 'em. They ask for a specific ritual of kill them with the red barrel, and bury them with the blue barrel, and toss or keep the yellow. You have the choice of a red, a blue, and a yellow barrel. Spikey says just don't do it, while I would─ probably go yellow and bury with blue. Too much history with the red, but don't know shit about th' blue."

@misplacedreporter replied with: Suspicious squint.

"............ What. Did I say something weird."

"... You guys rile 'er up? Why would you do that?" sometimes it feels like he truly is the only reasonable one, and even then he has his OFF DAYS.

unprompted / / @misplacedreporter / / wolfwood & meryl.

"......." this is a trap and he knows it. he could answer honestly, and get a positive response, or answer honestly and get an explosive reaction. he loves women, women scare him sometimes. "I'd love you in the way only I could." yeet, yah boy, that answers it, absolutely.

"I feel like my life's maybe 'n danger."

@bybullets ── [ continued from this ask ]

he doesn't mind listening to the complaints anymore, in fact he's grown to be accustomed to them for the most part, finding it... comforting to hear vash have opinions on things moreso than he does sidestep being a person. but eventually, even someone who is meant to be a protector, an ever watchful eye over the 'most dangerous man known to the planet' - well.

there's a quiet huff of gentle tiredness, not really saying much of anything, not really knowing how to express that all of this is starting to get to him. that he's not sure what to do anymore. a part of him feels guilty, for taking a moment to rest against vash, when vash had just gotten comfortable enough to complain... just taken a moment to show a lack of restraint for a moment... but he's so tired.

"Sorry." a man who never apologizes, apologizing. he must be exhausted.

continued from here. wolfwood & vash. @melpcmene.

yeah, a good man of god who has about as much double dollars as any other righteous, pious man. ( that is to say... more than you'd think. and don't ASK where he got the money to pay. ) "Ya won't die... but I guess I can pay ya back for the food." he leans back in his seat as he starts to burn a new cigarette openly, a plume of smoke curling around him ( half halo - half horn ). "Come on, I know a place you'd love, and who wouldn't question ya ... 'cuz they don't question me." he stands up after putting the double dollars for the meal that he stole down, and gestures to follow as he picks up the punisher.

wolfie tags

It’s too late, Vash has already rested his elbow upon Wolfwood’s head before he can even pick a fight about it. There he goes, putting aaaaaall of his weight into it. “What should we do today, Wolfie? Aren’t you bored out of your mind?”

@22calibers / wolfie & vash. / unprompted.

his head dips down some to accommodate the newfound weight 'pon his shoulders where it's normally only carrying the weight of his own skull and brain, let alone a brainless idiot's recklessness and affection. "I say we get a drink, call it a day. We don't normally get this sort'a quiet. I'm almost tense." almost, not quite. he knows when not to look a gift horse in the mouth, so to speak.

"Honestly, I'm──" he goes to answer truthfully at first; he's so tired. he hasn't felt this tired in a long time, and it's a bone deep ache that settles into muscle, tendon, bone, even his spirit feels this. he's so tired, and yet he keeps moving because he has no other choice. he can't tell that to vash. ( poor guy would whine about self care, like he had a place to talk. ) "...forget it. Let's go get a drink somewhere."

"Won't you try?" She's grinning, bright as ever, dirty blond tousled hair a leftover sign of the fun she'd had in the kitchen. Likely the visiting sniper of a woman had given her the ingredients, to make the sweet smelling pile of various treats she now presented. "Half of my siblings said I am the best baker, you gotta." -Milly at either boy you desire.

inbox call. / @breathofcosmos. / milly & wolfie.

it was barely a pause between one food item to the next, knowing well that milly thompson of all people was actually really good at baking, as well as particularly decent at cooking. it was better than himself, who, if given the opportunity, would burn water if not supervised properly.

( now, that was exaggeration. he just wasn't as good as the rest of his companions, and they preferred if he strayed from doing such things, as he was much better at mending than creating. )

"This'fh is r'lly good, Mills!" he says through mouthful of the sweets, briefly choking on one before hitting his chest a couple times and then leaning back, saving more than enough for the rest of the group they had with them. "Your siblings have the right idea, ya killed it!"

"The hell's goin' on over there?"

sloan shouldn't even be chancing talking to him - wolfwood. it's a risk, it might send them back to that awful place; to a casket waiting, expecting to be filled. but here they are. the two of them. sloan never said they were wise, only here for a good time.

fingers reach out, plucking the lit spiff dangling from his lips. "shit'll kill you, you know," they remark with their usual deadpan, voice rough from disuse. sloan takes a drag of it purely to spite him, huffing the smoke from their nose and - just barely - smiling.

taking command over my asks are we? @strywoven. / sloan & wolfwood.

it was odd, always odd, to see someone who was civil from that damned organization that he was reluctantly a part of for some ends to be be able to be met. to meet someone who didn't want him to go back, or at least had no qualms with how little he was actually following the orders he was given, it was a kindness, and a rarity he often dissected.

eyes glance down at their hand for a split second that their fingers take the cigarette from his lips, where it almost seemed to permanently hang, dangle every time he spoke, as if it were a comical additive to his whole supposedly goth presentation on the world around him.

even so, he doesn't stop them, instead choosing to raise a brow and reach into his pocket to take out a pack of new cigs'. "Could'a just asked if you wanted one." he lightly teases before looking forward again, pocketing the pack. "Yep. If the cigs' kill me first, then I will've lived a good life."

i hope it finds me. // sloan for wolfwood bc i will forever think it's a funny interaction.

poetry is stored in the tags / @strywoven. / sloan & wolfie.

"Ya don't."

the words are blunt, the dented cigarette waggling as he speaks to the person before him. he'd heard of someone a long time ago, escaping and managed to STAY that way. he's not a stranger to the feeling of EYES & EARS EVERYWHERE but at the same time, it was hardly a good thing to look a gift horse in the mouth.

"Ya got away. Keep it that way. There's too much life t'live to waste it being scared." he takes a drag of his cigarette and blows it outward, upward into the ceiling. "Try being angry for a sec'. Or laughing at something when you feel the urge to, instead of when you're told ta. Live for yourself, and that's too hard, finding something to work towards seems to work."