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kiaraalazulu · 10 months

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mashwood week day 4: "there was nobody in this country except the three of us, half-tipsy with the wonder of being alive, and wholly enveloped in love."

#trigun #trigun stampede #mashwood week #mashwood #meryl stryfe #meryl #vash #vash the stampede #nicholas d wolfwood #wolfwood #vashmeryl #my art #myart #they are half-tipsy with the wonder of a jar of beer

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zeearts · 10 months

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mashwood week day 4: comfort food | "wholly enveloped in love"

the whole point of sharing food is to actually share them, wolfwood, geez

#mashwood week #mashwood #trigun #trigun stampede #vash the stampede #meryl stryfe #nicholas d. wolfwood #food #art

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cherboxishere · 10 months

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Hello!! Back to usual schedule with #Mashwoodweek

Day 1: Love language ! (Pretend I’m not late this took w a y too long)

Also Vash absolutely bites both of them out of affection I’m so projecting right now

#trigun anime #digital art #trigun fanart #vash the stampede #vashwood #trigun the stampede #trigun vash #mashwood fanart #mashwood #mashwood week #vashmeryl #vashmeryl fanart #nicholas d wolfwood #meryl x vash x wolfwood #meryl stryfe #love languages !!!#chomps #they make me sick i adore them

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justshipsandstuff · 10 months

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Dream came true?

(Day 6: Dream)

#when god go a little to hard in making your dream comes true #mashwood #mashwood week #trigun stampede #my art

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atelier-amelia · 10 months

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𝔻𝔸𝕐 𝟘𝟙. LOVE LANGUAGE.

Each different, each so, so important.

My day 1 piece for #mashwoodweek!

#art #trigun #trigun stampede #vash the stampede #nicholas d. wolfwood #meryl stryfe #mashwood #my art #mashwood week #IT'S STILL 9PM SOMEWHERE #WWEEEEEW #now i lie down

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tolbyccia · 10 months

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what's yours is mine!

#mashwood #meryl stryfe #vash the stampede #nicholas d wolfwood #trigun #trigun stampede #mashwood week #i know its the only art i got done for the whole event but i also posted a 14k fanfic so be nice to me about it anyway #ths is the concept i abandoned that vashmeryl earrings swappy sketch to do instead. it only took me several several months #finished

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beelzebby666 · 10 months

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Mashwood Week Day 2: “If I Don't Make It Back From Where I've Gone Just Know I Loved You All Along”

"Stay here."

Meryl already doesn't like where this is going. Wolfwood's gripping the Punisher in one hand when he turns to her, the other looping around to grab the back of her neck. She goes to protest, to tell him he's being ridiculous and she's not letting him run off and do something stupid, when he leans down and presses a kiss to her forehead.

It's gentle. The kind of gesture reserved for quiet moments shared between them and Vash in the private of closed doors. The kind of thing he only really does on rare occasions, his usual form of love language with her is a mix of bickering and teasing.

"Please," he whispers, lips still against her skin. "Please stay here."

She knows he and Vash worry about her. Can't always keep track of her in chaotic situations. And while she can hold her own she's less sturdy than either of them. Wolfwood sounds almost scared, begging her like this to just stay put for once. Things are bad. He must not know if he and Vash will even be okay.

Panic flares and her eyes swim with tears. Meryl reaches out and grabs his shirt with both hands, desperately yanking him back when he goes to pull away.

"No, no no no–"

Wolfwood’s hand wraps around one of her’s. He’s still being too gentle with her, coaxing her fingers open and off his shirt. Like he’s extracting something they shouldn’t have from a child’s grasp. Meryl grips tighter at his shirt with her other hand and chokes down a sob. She doesn’t want to cry, she wants to scream at him and tell him he’s stupid–they’re both stupid. But the icy fear gripping her chest won’t let anything but panicked whimpering come out of her mouth.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, gently pulling her other hand off his shirt. He lingers a moment, holding it while she grasps at his fingers and gasps for air. She can’t even look at his face, his own eyes too painfully full of remorse over upsetting her.

He won’t tell her it’s going to be okay. Because he doesn’t know.

There’s a commotion behind him and Wolfwood tenses, squeezing at her hand before letting it go. Vash needs him. And Vash needs her to stay where she is, out of danger. She knows this, understands it in theory, but feeling so powerless in a situation that they’re risking their lives in feels like Meryl’s being ripped apart.

He’s left her alone “for her own good” before. Years not knowing if Vash was alive and years of seeing Wolfwood once in a blue moon, looking more ragged and skinny than the last time. She’s barely gotten over the ache in her chest that caused and now this?

Wolfwood cups her cheek and wipes one of her tears away with his thumb. Meryl still wants to punch him and still wants to cling to him for dear life and still knows she’s not allowed to do either. He still won’t say it’s going to be okay, no matter how much he wants to.

Instead, he just says, “Please,” one more time before letting go of her face and leaving. So Meryl buries her face in her hands and sinks down to sit on the floor.

She knows one day he won’t come back, deep in her gut she swears she knows. Even if he does this time. Even if hours later, bloody and broken but still breathing, he and Vash haul each other back to find her, Meryl knows one day they won’t. And she knows all they want is for her to be safe. So all she can do is stay behind and hope it’s not goodbye for good.

#mashwood #mashwood week #fly writes #ao3 down :(#stryfewood #merylwood

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mashwoodweek · 11 months

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We're only one month away from Mashwood Week! Which prompts are you most excited for?

#Mashwood Week #Mashwood #Meryl x Vash x Wolfwood #Trigun Stampede #Trigun #Trimax

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chili-chocolate · 9 months

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*Stumbles in over a month late and throws this at you so hard it, against all laws of physics, shatters*

Happy Mashwood week! Day 1: I just want to make you laugh. Can’t that be the whole poem? I just want to make you laugh.

#art #sketchbook #trigun #vash the stampede #meryl stryfe #nicholas d. wolfwood #mashwood #mashwood week

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whatever-you-can-give-me · 10 months

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mashwood week day 2: all that we did, you undo

post-trimax (featuring my it/its meryl headcanon) a little less mashwood and a little more prospective polyguns if some idiot had gone and fucked it all up by dying.

“I owe you an apology,” Vash says.

Meryl doesn’t say anything. It just sighs, and leans its weight further against his side, like it’s trying to keep him where he is, beside it on the worn carpet of its apartment, leaning against the front of the couch.

By some small mercy, Meryl hadn’t asked why he wanted to sit on the floor. It had just settled down against him, fitted warmly and firmly to his side.

Vash could pick it up with one hand, but he understands the point of the gesture.

He deserves the pointed reminder, really — he does keep running out on it. But that’s not what he needs to apologize for. It knew that about him long before they were past the point of no return.

“I should have told you he was dead,” Vash goes on, before he loses his nerve.

Meryl swears under its breath, which is also deserved, sitting up just enough to grab the bottle they’re sharing from the floor between their sprawled legs. “You should be saying that to Milly. She’s the one that—”

It trails off, bringing the bottle to its lips.

Vash lets the silence linger, weighing heavier and heavier on the air until it breaks.

“I never even had a chance to—” Meryl starts. It huffs out an exhale, starts to lift the bottle again, then seems to think better of it, settling it against Vash’s knee. The concave of the bottom of the bottle fits perfectly over his kneecap.

Vash very carefully doesn’t think about the last time he shared a drink with someone — the reason he’d asked Meryl to just bring the bottle, no glasses.

(He’s just grateful the liquor it kept in the house wasn’t Bride. He couldn’t have explained — would have drunk it anyway, and probably been sick afterwards, and still wouldn’t have told. Meryl would’ve just assumed he couldn’t hold his liquor, none the wiser.

But it is wiser now — one of the many ways it’s changed. Maybe it would have asked.)

Meryl scrubs a hand through its hair — shorter than it was before… everything, a fluffy sort of thing, grown out from the usual close shave it’s started wearing. There are a few grey hairs right at the front.

The first time Vash saw it, he’d made a joke about how they matched, now, and even now he isn’t sure whether the way it had grabbed him around the neck in response was a joke or a threat.

“He was just so… nice,” Meryl goes on. It grabs Vash by the wrist — he hadn’t even noticed his fingers were trembling — and folds both its hands around his. He isn’t sure which one of them it’s trying to reassure. “Even when he was trying not to be. Like it was bleeding out of him.”

Fuck. Vash’s throat closes up. He curls his fingers weakly. “Yeah.”

Meryl leans harder into his shoulder. Its expression is pinched. Not quite stricken, not the way Milly had looked, not the way Vash feels, though even that is too small a word, just — weary.

It squeezes his hand, tight. “I told Milly, men like that — you can’t marry a man like that. You can’t even think about it.” It sniffs, very pointedly doesn’t look at him. “That sort of man, he always seems like he’s going to get off at the next stop. No matter how much he loves you.”

Vash very, very, very carefully does not scream.

After a long moment, Meryl lets out a breath. “Sorry,” it says, quietly. “I know it’s my own fault I didn’t get to say goodbye.”

“Hey, no,” Vash manages, even around the lump in his throat. “I — if you have to blame anyone, blame me, I’m the one who… I’m the one who frightened you.”

It feels like so long ago, Colnago. Almost two years, now. The fear’s never quite pulled its hooks from him — never will, he’s sure, so long as he can remember the name July, so long as the Fifth Moon hangs cratered in the sky — but it feels more distant now, scarred over like a wound.

He knows his body now better than Knives ever did. The power in him, what’s left of it, doesn’t jump with fear under his skin. Not so much tamed as subsumed — welcomed back, after being torn from him. Amputated, to make him fear it.

For so long, he had. A fear deeper than fear, marrow-deep.

Meryl had felt it too, caught up in his unfurling — even the sight of his feathers, afterwards, had stunned it beyond speech.

A shadow in the moonslight, the quiet click of a handgun cocking—

“Please don’t cry,” Meryl all but whispers. It kneads at his hand. “You know how I get, I’m sorry, please don’t—” and then it goes on anyway, like it can’t stop the words. “Did he miss us, do you think?”

Vash can only nod, for a moment. He chews on his lip, focuses on the pressure of Meryl’s fingers against the back of his hand. He swallows around the choking snarl of grief, wrapped around his ribs and crawling up his throat.

He wishes it would get easier. But it had taken a century and a half to breathe under the weight of Rem’s death. Maybe it would be the rest of his life before he could even think—

“It wouldn’t have been safe,” Vash manages, eventually. “For the two of you. I knew that. So did you.”

Meryl nods, lips pressed together.

Shame rattles dully through Vash’s whole frame, like a ringing bell. He doesn’t even know why. There’s nothing he could have done. He’d turned the events over and over in his head enough times since to be sure of that. There just hadn’t been time, to turn back, to say goodbye. It had all fallen apart too quickly.

After getting out of the Ark, he’d thought of them, of finding them again, and then—

“He was sure what he was doing was the right thing,” Vash’s voice wavers, but he manages to keep it most of the way together. “That it would be better to leave it all to me.” Instead of breaking, his voice twists into a snarl, and he sees the way Meryl startles he feels it jolt against his side but just like it couldn’t stop from asking, he can’t stop the answer from spilling out. “Maybe he thought he was the only one who could miss anyone when they were gone.”

Meryl’s arms settle around his neck. Its body pulls flush against his, warm and solid, small enough it folds completely into his chest when he hugs it close.

Its breath is warm against his neck, just slightly ragged, though no more than his, really. “We talked about the two of you all the time.” It squeezes him tighter, as if to rub in that it’s not just dead men it’s speaking ill of. “When we’d see you again.”

“I know,” Vash rasps. “If he’d been thinking, if he hadn’t been so, so stubborn, we would’ve—” he can’t keep his voice from breaking anymore. “He really did care.”

Meryl’s hands curl into fists against his coat. “I know,” it echoes. “I know he did. So why—?”

It doesn’t finish.

There wouldn’t be an answer, if it did.

#mashwood week #mashwood #trigun maximum #polyguns #ao3 is down so yall are getting a tunglr post

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kiaraalazulu · 10 months

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