cerebralbleu

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📚 3! i forgor the book emoji.....

RP Wishlist ; @blightsbite

3. A missing moment in canon

So much Gung-ho Guns content. One day, people will app the other Gung-ho Guns so that we can develop Legato's relationship with his weird squad of freaks. Especially Midvalley, good god ESPECIALLY Midvalley. I want to know what heir reactions were to finding out that Legato was going to be in charge of them for a while. Fucking freak of a man.

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📚 + 5 & 8 c:

RP Wishlist ; @viladlind

5. Something funny

Who's going to expose Legato Bluesummers to modern day music? Who's going to do it? Who is going to sit this man down and force him to perceive it? It's not easy to comprehend, he's going to be so confused. However in that process he will discover goth synth music and industrial metal and finally have a hobby.

8. Something romantic

First of all I'm flattered that multiple people want to hold Legato's hand.

Second of all,

Him learning the romantic value of physical touch, experiencing it as a means of comfort and not exploitation, is high up on the list for me. I don't think this man has ever had someone lay a hand on him with positive intent. He'll probably break down if someone actually cupped his face or stroked his hair (that's a big one, blue hair was the mark of a valuable whore in his canon universe, so he is very, very weird about having his hair touched.)

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📚 + 7 + 13 :)

RP Wishlist ; @shatteredlittlestar

7. Something violent

More fight threads please. Man. I'd love to write more fight threads. I'm having such a great time with the current Isola event because it gives me an opportunity to engage in combat. Fight threads with ANYBODY, honestly, would be a good time!

13. A character I'd like to play

Okay, I am going to answer this STRICTLY with a few characters that I have never written EVER, not even ONCE:

Kabru (Dungeon Meshi)

Paul Atreides (Dune)

Belial (Granblue Fantasy)

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📚 + 9

RP Wishlist ; @fellabsolve

9. Something sad

Love that everyone is asking the REAL questions, the UPSETTING ones, we're getting into the MEAT. The MEAT, I tell ya.

While I've had a swath of really sad plots as of lately, here's another one: someone needs to get Legato talking about religion so that they can look at him and be like,

Dude,

That's kind of fucked up.

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SOMETHING ANGSTY

RP Wishlist ; @allhesaid

Folds my hands and looks into the sea like that one horse meme.

One day I would love for Legato to actually talk to someone about the sexual abuse that he suffered as a child. Not a single character in Trigun canonically knows about Legato's backstory. They know nothing about him beyond the fact that he's one of Knives' disciples. Only the readers are given a look into his origins, and a reason as to why he has subjected himself to a lifetime of servitude to someone who genuinely does not give a fuck about him. Rescued from one absolutely horrific lifestyle, and thrown into another one, without ever learning that there's a better alternative. It's sad shit and I'd like to see him have to finally sit down and process it.

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📚 + 1, 8

RP Wishlist Meme ; @guidingstarmira

Something from my muse’s backstory

Simple answer:

I want to touch upon the years between the destruction of July, and the first time that we encounter Legato Bluesummers in the Trigun manga. There was a major degradation of his mental stability, and a shift in how he carried himself in the world. Legato took on a lot more responsibilities than he was supposed to have, due to Knives' life-threatening injuries that put him into stasis. I'd like to dig into how that effected him, how he changed as a person, how it impacted his view of himself, of humanity as a whole, and his role in the Gung-ho Guns' objective. Because, look, we go from someone who seems relatively sound of mind, to an absolute psychopath.

8. Something romantic

So uh. Lol.

My definition of "something romantic" is going to be wildly different, especially considering who I write. Legato does not have the slightest concept of romance in his brain, nor is going to initiate anything like that on his own. But he understand loyalty. He understands devotion. He understands sacrifice.

I think getting this guy to understand romance in general is where I would have to start before anything else. Otherwise, you're going to get the human equivalent of a corvid bringing you bones and shiny things as a sign of affection.

And, of course, the fact that he will kill someone for you to show his infatuation.

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WISHLISTS!

send me 📚 + a number for me to tell you something I'd like to rp regarding...

something from my muse's backstory

something from my muse's canon

a missing moment in canon

an AU

something funny

something angsty

something violent

something romantic

something sad

a ship i'd love to play

an antagonistic relationship i'd love to play

a non-romantic relationship i'd love to play

a character i'd like to play with

a character i'd like to play as

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I will be focusing on event related threads for the next couple of days. Non-event threads will still be answered, but they will come a bit later.

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@kyouufu

Evacuating the apartment building did not take long. He did not have many possessions to gather, just one single bag full of medical necessities, flung over his shoulder. The city's emergency alert system had been blaring for ten minutes now, urging all Golden Ward's residents to find shelter. Legato knew better than to act as if he would be safe in this building-- when calamity struck, it was always wise to move to stable ground. And that wasn't a high rise apartment.

Pushing his way through the stream of people rushing out of the building, he could hear the screams of civilians running through the streets, some of them stumbling to the ground as they were chased down by the infect.

Steeling himself, Legato narrows his eyes, mentally prepared to deal with whatever was approaching.

In his last few steps to the bottom floor of the building, he comes face to face with another man who was also evacuating--

And he is hit with the sensation of thousands of tiny, sharp needles against his skin.

When he had crossed paths with Elendira the Crimsonnail months ago in the streets, she had informed Legato of the existence of alternative versions of themselves. Since then, he has met doppelgangers of Vash the Stampede, Nicholas D. Wolfwood, and even Elendira himself. It was a confusing scenario--

Now, he stares at sickeningly familiar blue hair, and Legato's entire body goes cold.

And he fails to say nothing as he stands there and stares for what felt like a millennium. The panicked shouts coming from the streets are drowned out by the way his blood rushes through his brain.

What dreadful timing.

" You are -- Legato Bluesummers. " He finds himself whispering under his breathe, unable to look away from the lithe man who seemed rattled by the apocalyptic conditions outside.

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@allhesaid

Extract Willem Sprunghart and escort him to the rest of the group for safety. The job itself was simple. Locating people was something that Legato had done countless times for the Gung-ho Guns. Having never met this man before, all he had to go off of was a description from Fiyero and Balduran, and information about his whereabouts. It was imperative that he find this man and usher him to safety, apparently.

Tracking him down turned out to be quick task, but the swarming beasts would prove to be an irritating obstacle. It appeared that Willem had holed himself up in his residence-- the rest of the neighbors had already evacuated the region, leaving nobody to come to his aid, except for the lone gunslinger. With little hesitation, he lets himself into the residential building, using an entrance that seemed to have been clawed down.

He's alerted by the sound of someone distraught in the hallway-- someone cornered by two of the beasts, both eager to infect another living being.

Legato draws his handgun from the holster in his coat, and fires off a bullet. His aim is true, it slams into the back of the undead's head, sending a wave of crimson into the air as its unmoving collapses to the ground. He repeats the same action to the anomaly's accomplice, reaping its life without so much as flinching.

With both of the beasts dead on the ground, Legato comes face to face with who he presumed to be--

" Willem Sprunghart? " He inquires flatly.

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Fiyero's music frantically fills the air as thaumaturgy is cast over and over again. The approaching horde shambled forward with uncanny movements, limbs twisting as the distortion that surrounded them flickered and popped. These fragmented anomalies behaved mindlessly, which meant that the sounds created by Fiyero's cantrips were effective distractions.

Legato had not made enough deep connections with the citizens of Spirale for him to feel despair when locking eyes with familiar faces. Here and there he saw people that he had interacted with: a mail courier, a bartender, a cashier. All of them were now nothing but hosts to the ferocious glitch that was consuming the landscape like a fungus.

He was proficient at reaping life. For the first time since arriving to this island, Legato Bluesummers would do something he was familiar with.

It felt like he was performing an infernal dance to the beat of Fiyero's violin, sidestepping one of the glitched and latching his threads into one-- then two-- three, four, five-- and a sixth. Legato lifts his hand, fingers twitching as he effortlessly forces the undead to turn on each other. Their heads snap to the side, sprinting towards the rest of the horde to rake and tear through already mangled flesh.

Opposite hand comes forward to do the same to another grouping that flanked Fiyero. Before they could approach any closer, their halt, and proceed to grab their heads and break their own necks.

He hadn't defended someone with such violence since his promised vow to his master.

" It's all back, " he rasps under his breath in shock, the black of his pupils vanishing as they sharpening into pin pricks. Legato had full power of his threads again.

He has no time to process this before a second familiar face appears: Lord Balduran. Legato drops his hands, stalwart as he approaches the two of them. It looks as though he had been taken off guard by the advancing horde as well. From behind the lengths of azure hair, Legato's eyes glance back and forth between Fiyero and Balduran; would the three of them cooperate? It wasn't wise to be out on his own-- even though Legato believed himself capable of self-defense against such mindless monsters.

" They are drawn to sound, " Legato's hollow voice rattles. Without forewarning, two of his threads attach to the base of his allies' skulls to forge a connection. Fiyero and Balduran would feel something akin to static electricity before hearing the desert native's voice.

' It is best we communicate this way. Controlling the horde and minimizing how far they advance is the only way to manage this, lest we fail and become the hunted. If they cannot move, then they become simple targets. '

@viladlind -> @astrallithid

the fate of faerûn rests in your hands.

had fiyero cared much for it, when balduran first told him? the prospect of leading had never delighted him. what mattered the fate of the world when he had a parasite sitting behind his eye socket, meaning to turn him inside out? to eradicate all fiyero ever truly held dear— his feelings, his self.

it matters when he means to reside in this world. to feel. to be.

undead aren't much of a threat, but fiyero has never seen so many of them. they are tearing each other apart trying to overrun the city and whoever stumbles into their path. speed varied, he manages to dodge the few that set their focus on him. but his gaze sticks to the innate normalcy that these things hold. they're people. they don't look undead, though they act like it, screeching and moaning and using their bodies as weapons.

it sends shivers down his spine. he keeps scratch close, speak with animals cast as soon as he feels his magic return to him.

there is an empty space, between undead trying to keep up with their pace, and more from further away. it's in that space that scratch calls out for, the puppeteer, he's over there!

they lock eyes at the same time. ' le— '

why are you out here on your own?

why is he? he was looking for— zevran, for one, his location shared to fiyero's sending stone, a good starting point. but with the state of the city? will and seofon and mira and—

fiyero grabs his violin once he's prompted to help. he can do that. you'd think it hard to focus over the noise of dozens, but he's had the practice on the battlefield, so he starts playing. standing his ground, scratch watching his back, fiyero's focus stays on legato's surroundings. tracking each storefront, each street slowly getting flooded, he casts thaumaturgy however many times he can.

' maior et fortior ', over and over again, slamming doors shut and sending noises where it serves to distract, attempting to form some amount of controlled chaos. it's there that he spots a familiar sight, fighting a few undead by himself.

the tadpole is awake, its powers readied. fiyero all but screams through their connection, pointed and sharp. what are you doing?

@astrallithid -> @cerebralbleu

[cerebralbleu]

My fashion diva

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" How could you do that without a ladder? " He looked and sounded puzzled. Legato did not doubt the girl's independence, but he was far, far larger than her-- all he could imagine was Hanabi attempting to physically throw him.

No, that made no sense.

She must have an ability that he wasn't aware of.

" If it puts you at no risk, then be my guest. "

Haru is situated in Hanabi's hands. She holds him close while she remains hidden. She can hear Legato as he's not too far from her. She looks over her shoulder, eyes wandering about until they move to meet Legato.

"Mm, there should be an area where we can get up on the roof." She shifts, moving quietly to then fully face Legato.

"I may be able to put us both up there without the use of a ladder, too."

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He cannot place the emotion that he feels when the shoddy priest's name crosses his thoughts. Contempt? Disgust? Envy? There's a sensation that sits heavy in his gut, putrid and rotting.

Legato could recount all of the hatred he felt towards Nicholas D. Wolfwood, the disappointment, the frustration that burned beneath his skin. One man's defiance had been potent enough to create the butterfly effect that led to his master's undoing. In the same breathe, had he not been the most successful of the Gung-ho Guns?

Had his reckless death brought the greatest suffering to Vash the Stampede?

Jealous of efficiency. Jealous of use. He swallows that deadly sin down his throat like the blackest bile.

There was no response from the alleyway. Legato exhales slowly, breathe heavy and wet. And then, he feels something warm brush against his threads. The string-puller's head sharply snaps 90 degrees to the right, eyes barreling down the narrow passage.

Slowly, Legato lumbers forward, boots heavy against the asphalt. His figure drowns the streetlight pouring in, shadow consuming everything.

Mere inches away from the priest huddle in the dark, he stops, still not seeing him. Instead, Legato stares at the stray cat, cutting an annoyed glare. Damned beast.

The wind picks up, and with it, carries the familiar scent of tobacco.

Legato's figure tenses, and whips his head around, the threads coming in closer to latch onto wherever the source of the cigarette smell had been coming from. He tugs once, he tugs twice, three times, then four--

Lips twitch into a smile.

Children in the desert used to pull the legs and wings off of worms. They watched them squirm helplessly under the binary suns, not caring about the pain they inflicted upon the lowly creatures.

Legato was the very same with other human beings.

" There you are, " his voice is carried away on the same wind, hollow.

There has rarely ever been a time where Wolfwood felt like the prey rather than the predator. Even the times he was blood-soaked, stumbling, full of holes; times where he was blinded, relying only on his own wits, the rest of his heightened senses scrambling to catch up. He never felt this cornered then. The last time must have been lying helplessly in the dirt, his old mentor's foot shoving his chin back. Before then? He had been a child.

Wolfwood knows how to move noiselessly, but those threads are close. One movement will alert Legato to his position, if he touches one it could easily wrap around him and keep him frozen in place. He's been gripped by those threads before. Controlled by them. What a terrifying power for one man to have.

He can't just stay here hiding forever, though, delaying what he believes is the inevitable.

Is he going to make it home tonight? He's not confident. Maybe he's too accepting of the possibility of death. Especially here, where death seems meaningless.

He stares at the threads that glint in the dim light of the moon that manages to spill in between the tall buildings. The gun in his coat feels like a deadweight. Thunder rumbles somewhere in the distance, promising more rain in the near future.

An alleycat pokes its head out of the nearby dumpster some feet away from him and meows loudly, then sniffs curiously in the direction of the threads. Wolfwood curses internally. Fucking cats.

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Sow dust and corrupt in another garden I'ma just set the wings on the lungs imparted Cold one for the wrist, down the road, carving I'll revive just to feed 'em like the crows are dogging Floating slowly, let 'em creep Lose the blood now with the pact they keep, yeah Solely, holy, shepherd, reap Looking glass bitch, you keep on hassling sheep

Steady on the palm, cutting pigs into gods

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" We are all creatures. I don't find the word to be rude or inaccurate, " Legato shakes his head.

" Remarkable is the word that is more suitable for you. In every way and meaning. The kindness you extend to me is. . .

Unlike anything I've ever experienced.

For you to consider me remarkable is incredible in itself. "

What a wretched beast he was.

" I have no place in mind. And I doubt you would find anything interesting in my home. We could go elsewhere, somewhere quieter than all of this mess, " he offers, and holds out his arm. If Mira chooses so, she could lean onto him for support. Celestial being or not, losing a limb meant that one's balance was compromised.

" Somewhere that you won't be injured again, " this time, he sounds more serious.

He would detest to see that.

Legato releases the control of the man that he had latched his threads on, and ushers Mira and himself out of the car wreckage. As emergency response began to arrive, the crowd thinned, giving the pair an easier time moving.

" Is this lifestyle difficult for you? " He asks curiously, turning down a less busy street that led towards one of the parks in Golden ward.

As Legato shifts to be standing up beside her, no longer needing her hand to stand up, she is about to let it fall to her side before she catches the movement of him leaning down towards her and making her pause for a moment. Then, she feels the tips of his fingers ghosting along her arm where it had been split from the rest of it, and it's a strange sensation to her. Damage to her form she was used to, but tender touch to an area that had been harmed?

It's a new and foreign feeling, but it isn't discomforting in the slightest. Specks of stardust kiss at his skin for fleeting moments before dissolving into nothingness as he does.

In turn she's tilting her head backwards to fully look at his face, not at all bothered by his closeness nor off put by him at all. There's a small look of confusion on her face, especially when he's saying that word suits her better, and instead of latching onto the 'remarkable' one, she's latching onto 'creature' instead. Her half raised hand then moves to her chin for a moment as eyes shift to the side.

"I suppose it was rather rude of me to call you a creature, when you're correct, for that does fit me more than it would you. Forgive me, I still lack understanding how best to be around souls, but I am sure you've already noticed that."

Eyes shift back to him for a moment when he asks about leaving, before her hand falls away from her face and she looks around to everything. Beyond that one man who had acted slightly strangely, he wasn't wrong in his words. She couldn't do much else for them.

"I suppose we should, yes, although I will admit, I am unsure of where else to go right now..."

[cerebralbleu]

Such a specific agony creates a hollow ache in Legato's chest. He frowns, looking down at the child with an expression that almost looks sympathetic.

I hate being human. I hate being around humans. Seeing them. Talking to them. Living with them. Being on your own.

These were feelings that Legato had experienced for as long as he had a capacity for memory, but it had never been a shared experience.

How is he supposed to answer that question?

He swallows thickly, and moves his gaze forward out to the rolling grass and wildflowers of Cotes.

" Existence is suffering. That is the reality that I have known for my entire life. We are here to feel pain, and then die, as worthless human beings. I still believe in this, very often, " Legato admits in his quiet, distant voice.

" I've known no other truth. "

The air is heavy, as though the sky were holding its breathe. Upon exhalation, the smell of petrichor fills his senses.

" But, " his thoughts trail. He carefully removes one glove, tugging at the leather. The exposed hand is gnarled and scarred. Legato extends his palm outwards to catch a the water droplets that were beginning to come down.

" The first time that I felt this, the rain, it was the very first moment where I was thankful to have woken up that morning. "

Legato tilts his head to look down at Chara again.

" The sky opens up and sheds tears from storm clouds. And once it concludes, they depart and make way for the sun. . . Perhaps, humans like us, can do the same. Feel sorrow. Express it. And hope for warmth once it's been released. "

He isn't sure what overcame him to say such words to Chara.

" Mankind is a terrifying thing. You are either too human, or not human enough in their eyes, it seems. "

Most adults try to calm children down by soothing them. Saying it’s alright. That things will be ‘okay’, whatever that’s supposed to mean. Even if they’re offput or frightened by words, they’ll usually go to great lengths to make a child feel as if they are normal.

Legato Bluesummers does not do that. Instead, he tells the truth — that he understands.

And Chara believes him.

He understands. The feeling of scattered panic. The agony of a heartbeat in something that was silent for so long. Feeling your chest inhale and exhale without your input — it’s terrifying. It’s exhausting.

Legato Bluesummers understands.

“.. yes.

After … I died … my SOUL woke up when someone fell on top of my grave. My … partner. My partner fell on top of me and woke me up. We … shared a space in their soul. I was aware of my death the whole time. I thought …

I thought I deserved it.

Like I had not suffered enough for stealing from the monsters who had been trapped beneath the ground.”

… they rub at their cheek with the sleeve of their sweater. Their eyes are dry.

“I hate being human. I hate … being around humans. I hate having to see them, I hate when they try to talk to me. I hate being forced to live. I hate that I must wake up every day, in this place, by myself.

But … there are kind humans here. Humans like my partner. And I am so ashamed that my gut instinct is to hate them.”

Red eyes flicker up to look at Legato — really look at him. Chara bites their bottom lip, hard, rolling it between their teeth.

“Do you think we must suffer with these forever? Is … this our own special little hell?”