#(but he never did. not even once. and vash is not sure how to accept that either)

[myuminji]

Ethereal - txmy

[killergee]

Part 3! Sorry for the late update, but here's the last part, my friends. I had no idea what to do, so I fell into a good old trope. Slight nsfw, but it’s mainly just Hoshina and his dirty mind, hehe. Oh, and some kissing.

Summary: Angry, frustrated, jealous, and trapped in an elevator. Who will crack first?

P1 P2 P3

Tagslist: @surprisemodafakas @yrxhyes @voidsatoru @vash-yuu @er0ssu @rosesandquartzz

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Hoshina knew he was the only one at fault for testing his own patience, but God was he so sure he was going to explode if things continued like this.

He wanted you to be the one to take the final step and cross the distance. He wanted to see you want him like you said you did so many months ago. To see that passion for him once again.

That didn’t mean he waited around for you to confess, though. No, he didn’t hold back when it came to you.

If anything, he became greedy when it came to you.

Hoshina didn't know how he survived before, now knowing what your touch felt like. It felt like fire on his skin. One that left a burning desire that he only knew to quell by grasping at you for more. Yet, even then, it wasn't enough. You always left him wanting more. You left him clinging to what was left of his sensibilities to not take you there and then. Hoshina thinks he must be a masochist because of how he kept pushing for more, knowing you'll reject him or that he'll have to stop himself before he goes too far and ruins everything.

Yet, when you did accept his affections, the feeling was unparalleled. When you did reciprocate, it made him feel butterflies in his stomach. It made him feel a different type of warmth, a different sense of fulfillment. One that told him it was worth it to keep trying.

So, he gave in to his desires again and again and again. As long as he doesn't straight-up confess, he still has a shot at making you take action. Right?

Hoshina groans as he finishes another one of his reports. Mina has been working him to the bone lately. Taking him out of sessions to work on mission plans, interrupting him mid lunch to accompany her to meetings, even going as far as interrupting his midnight training sessions with you to ask for his opinion on the production of a new weapon. Hoshina swears he’s barely seen you for the last two weeks because of this. To say he was a bit annoyed would be an understatement. Especially since because of his busy nature, Mina delegated his tasks to you to handle. Tasks that included working with his unit.

Now, this normally wouldn’t be a problem if Kafka hadn’t taken such a liking to you. Hoshina should’ve known Kafka would like you after he overheard your conversation with him the first time. While trapped in his office, it takes all his efforts to not jump out the window and tell Kafka to take a step back from you. He didn’t know if it was the exhaustion, stress, or withdrawal from your presence, but he felt absurdly angry at seeing you being so friendly with Kafka. Hell, even seeing you laughing with his unit left a bitter taste in his mouth.

While you and his unit seemed to be getting closer, you and Hoshina haven’t made any progress at all since that night. Hoshina felt frustrated on so many different levels and mixed with the pressure to not disappoint his superior, Hoshina was so wired he could barely sit still. He nearly snapped his pen in half just thinking about it.

He either needed to train or fuck this out of his system.

He couldn’t concentrate on anything. The words on the paper in front of him were starting to blur, and he was seconds away from writing “because this is stupid” as his rationale for rejecting proposals.

Looking up at the clock and seeing the hand tick closer to 2am, he groans into his hands and decides that the responsible choice would be to go to sleep and pray that tomorrow never came.

Putting on his jacket, he barely gives his desk a second glance as he leaves to lock the office door. Once in the elevator, he pushes the button to the fourth floor and immediately slumps against the railing on the wall of the elevator. With his hundredth sigh of the day, he tries to think on the brighter side. Since no one would be up at this god forsaken hour, he didn’t need to wait for the elevator to open on every floor.

When the elevator stops, Hoshina rolls his eyes at his luck. Looking up at the ceiling and exhaling, he doesn’t bother to acknowledge the person entering the elevator.

It wasn’t until he heard the familiar click of your tongue does he snap his head down to see you standing beside him.

There you were.

Standing with your arms crossed and staring at the doors of the elevator as if they’ve wronged you. The object of his affections and his frustrations. The person he was craving most at the moment.

Seeing you in the flesh again, skin pink probably from showering, shirt unbuttoned a little too low combined with the scent of your faded shampoo wafting through the elevator…

Fuck it, the training room will have to do, Hoshina decides, quickly leaning forward to press the button to the second floor. He can feel the weird look you’re giving him, but he decides for both of your sakes he’s going to keep looking at the doors. God, he couldn’t believe your presence alone was doing it for him. He needed out now.

But, unfortunately for him, the world continued to ignore his wishes. With a slight tremble, the elevator slows in its tracks until it abruptly stops. Not being able to believe his luck, it wasn’t until the lights began to dim that he lets out a curse.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” he hears you say as you immediately dig into your pocket to get your phone. Pressing the help button on the elevator, he waits for you to finish your call with security. With the way you were scowling, he knew the news couldn’t be good. With it also being so late, he doubts anyone would come rescue you guys any time soon.

“Yea sure, we can have super suits and high-tech weapons, but god forbid we have a working elevator” you mumble sarcastically after hanging up the phone. Barely looking at him, you announce, “they said they’ll have it fixed within an hour.”

“That’s fucking great,” Hoshina groans, massaging his temples with one hand as he curses whatever god fucking with him right now. Finally turning to look at you, he notices how far you were from him. You were practically squishing yourself into the corner of the elevator to distance yourself. With the night taking away his patience, he comments without any restraint. "Now what’s got ya so pissed off?”

You turn to glare at him. “Excuse me?”

“I said what’s got ya so mad ya can’t even stand to be in the same space as me,” Hoshina scoffs, adding fuel to the flames. “Scared I got cooties? A little too late for that, I’m sure.”

“You’re unbelievable.” You hiss, anger rolling off you. The piercing glare you sent his way satisfied him in a twisted way he couldn’t understand. He’ll blame the adrenaline and the frustration.

“What are you even doing here so late? Ah, sneaking out from the Captain’s room, I’m sure." You spit venomously, mocking his phrasing. "Wasn’t satisfied enough, so you’re coming to me?”

“Now what the hell are ya going on about?”

Your eyes narrow a fraction more. “Oh sorry, Vice-Captain. Did I hit a nerve? Sad that the Captain didn’t like you enough to let you stay the night?”

“You’re being ridiculous, you’re lucky no one else is here to hear you say that. If ya weren’t you, I’d have you punished for talking about Min- Captain Ashiro like that.” Shit, he was losing his grip.

You let out a hollow chuckle devoid of any humour. “No, no, you don’t need to correct yourself like that in front of me, Vice-Captain. I won’t tell anyone,” you say, drawing out the syllables of his title.

“Don’t call me that, y/n,” he growls. “Nothing is going on betwe-”

“You think I’m fucking stupid? Everything you’ve done to me. The late night training sessions, 'working' together on reports, having lunch together, everything that we’ve done together you’re now off doing it with her.” You continue, your voice getting more heated with every word. “Her interrupting us again and again, you think I can’t take a fucking hint? I know my place now, so you don’t need to worry about anything.”  

“Y/n, it’s nothing like that. If I had a choice, I wouldn’t b-”

His explanation falls on deaf ears as you continue your angry rant. “You know what? Kafka was right.”

Heart stopping, the flash of heat Hoshina felt throughout his body broke the dam holding the last bits of his sanity. “What’s Kafka got to do with anything?”

“Kafka noticed how you two were always together for the last couple of weeks. I told him it was nothing, but I guess I owe him an apology. I’d hate to see the look on his face when I tell him.”

“Ya seriously trusting Kafka over me?”

“I mean, why not? He’s trustworthy, he’s kind, he’s reliable-”

Hoshina lets out a hostile scoff, “Oh, and I’m not?”

“He’s never touched me and then gone off and-”

“He’s never what?” Hoshina pushes off the wall, making his way into your corner. “He better not touch you the way I do. And even if he did," his eyes gleam in a dangerous manner, "he'll never be able to make you feel the way I make you feel.”

Hoshina's tone is strong and sure. “Stop talking about that damn brat and listen. Nothing is going on between me and the Captain. I do not like her like that and I can promise you I never will.”

The sincerity in his eyes makes you hesitate. But you need his words. You need solid proof that he feels the same need for you that you do for him—so you push on anyway. “How can I be sure? How can I trust you?”

Not one to backdown, you meet him in the middle before he could completely corner you. With your finger to his chest, Hoshina takes a step back. His attempt to put space between you doesn't deter you as you push forward. In fact, it emboldens you to press on until his back hits the wall and your as nose to nose as you possibly can with your height difference.

Hoshina couldn’t think straight. The only thing he hears from you is jealousy, and it's going straight down to his dick. The feel of your body on his, the heat of the argument, the intensity of your glare, he was about to snap. "Please don't do that," Hoshina hisses.

“Where’s all the heat from before? Answer my question."

"Y/n." 

The sternness of his voice makes you falter. 

His hands raise slightly in a sign of surrender. "Don't touch me if you're not willing to take responsibility for your actions." He says in a teasing voice, but even you could hear the strain in them. 

“What are you talking about.”

“If ya touch me now, I can’t promise ya that I’ll be a gentleman about it.” As if warning you about what's to come, Hoshina brings his hands down onto your hips, pulling you close until your hips press against his. His actions evoke a different kind of heat than your argument.

“How could I ever want anyone else when you’re the only one who’s always on my mind. You think everything I’ve done to ya up to this point was casual? That I was only teasing ya for fun?”

“Ya want proof? Fine.” He brings your hand to rest over his chest, his heart beating wildly at your touch. To lay it all down on the table, to bare his soul to you, he'll do it all if it means even the slightest chance you'll accept him.

"Tell me to stop and I will. Tell me to move away, to not touch you, to not love you, and I will never bother you again." He grits through his teeth. "God, tell me now so I can stop myself before it's too late." Maybe it already was, but he won't tell you that. 

At your silence, his heart plummets. Hoshina lets go of your hand. “Sorry-”

"Kiss me, asshole." 

"I- what?"

"Fine, I'll do it myself." You grab the back of his head and pull him towards you, lips crashing into his in a passionate fury.

After a beat, Hoshina hungrily returns your passion. His hands back onto your body with a fervor. The kiss was heated. It tasted like frustration, anger, jealousy and want. It was exhilarating and intoxicating and Hoshina didn’t want it to end.

Breaking the kiss for air, the intensity of your gaze sends a delightful shiver up his spine. "You drive me insane, you know that? Getting off on teasing me and then trynna back away when you finally got the chance to do something, to do anything. Do I need to spell it out for you? I want you. I want you all for myself." you say, grabbing a handful of his hair with a strength that was bordering the line between painful and amazing. 

"Take responsibility? Talk about your fucking self. You've ruined me for anyone else. Do something about it."

“Yes ma’am.” Without hesitation, Hoshina dives back in for a kiss, and all that could be felt was lips on lips and the sting of teeth.

Hands grasping at every inch of your skin, he turns you and pushes you against the wall of the elevator. Lips moving from yours to your neck, his hand hungrily tugs at the top of your shirt. Unable to control his strength, the button pops, but your gasp is replaced by a moan as he bites into the expanse of your neck.

Motivated by the sounds you make, Hoshina snakes his arm behind your back—pressing your body against his in an almost suffocating manner. Blinded by his eagerness, he didn’t notice the lights turning back on and the elevator running again. It's not until the doors ding open, and you push him away does he finally come back to his senses.

Moving away from him, you use your hand to clasp at the top of your shirt—trying to replicate the security of the button he ripped off. You have half the mind to yell at him, but the smugness in his smile makes you bite the inside of your cheek. Satisfaction reeked from his body, and his cat-like eyes raking over yours made your knees weak.

The next time the doors open, he takes your hand in his and leads you out. "This isn't my floor," you say face flushed as you knew where he was heading.

"Yep, it's mine," he replies with uncontainable excitement.

He turns his head to glance back at you. “If I knew all it took for ya to confess was to trap ya in an elevator with me, I would’ve done this much sooner.” Hoshina says with a cheeky grin, hand gripping yours in a way that said you weren’t leaving him any time soon.

You roll your eyes, but you continue to follow him anyways. A small smile tugs at your lips.

“You’re unbelievable.”

[anyasathenaeum]

I Need Some Sleep

A/N: Well, I wasn't kidding when I said I was gonna write the little scenario I described in this post and that nobody could stop me. I've always imagined dancing with Vash to this song from the Shrek 2 soundtrack because it reminds me so much of him. I listened to it while writing, so I encourage listening to it while you read. Enjoy. Warnings: Honestly, none, really. This one's wholesome, I swear

Sleepless nights weren't a new thing for Vash.

Over the many years he'd lived and spent wandering across the deserts of No Man's Land, he'd often found that sleep was just as elusive as the supposed Mayfly of love he had once joked about. Endless thoughts, what-ifs, and memories always seemed to haunt him once the glow of the moons was the only light left, and his mind never seemed to have an off switch. No matter what he did, no matter how many walks he took, no matter how much he tried to meditate or focus on trying to quiet his mind, sleep never seemed to come when he wanted it to.

As he stared at the ceiling of his little private cabin and listened to the steady rumble of the sandsteamer as it chugged along its route through the sand seas, Vash found himself feeling especially restless. He wondered to himself what it was that kept him awake this time - was it the usual, overwhelming sense of self-loathing he felt? Or the guilt that threatened to drown time every time he remembered that he'd failed to save somebody? Or was it just the worry he felt at the fact that you, his longtime travelling companion and one of his best and only friends, didn't end up in a cabin near his?

After what felt like at least a couple hours, Vash let out a deep sigh and gave up trying to identify the cause of his wakefulness, accepting that it was likely a result of a combination of all the things usually troubling him plus worry for you. Simultaneously, he decided to stop trying to force himself to sleep, knowing it would do him no good to continue trying at this point.

'Well... the least I can do is go make sure (Y/N)'s safe.' Vash thought to himself, standing and stretching while trying not to smash his head on the low ceiling of his cabin before quietly heading out to go check on you.

The sandsteamer almost felt abandoned. There wasn't a single soul in sight, not even a single straggler or drunk who'd lost their way back to their cabin. As Vash walked through the halls, he found himself thinking of you, wondering if you'd managed to fall asleep with the rumbling of the sandsteamer and the rare situation of having a room to yourself.

More often than not, you and Vash shared rooms and beds in inns, motels, or whatever accommodations you could find from time to time in order to save double-dollars, and the two of you were more accustomed to falling asleep with the other nearby, the sounds of the other's breathing and the way you both moved in sleep familiar to each other. So, to suddenly be greeted by complete and utter silence and a lack of your warmth was more than unsettling to Vash, more so than he cared to admit.

Not having you tucked up by his side as you slept felt... wrong.

He missed the feeling of your warmth against his body, the softness of you pressed up against him as you slept undisturbed, at peace by his side, peace that he brought you. He missed the sight of your face, somehow more youthful as you slumbered on. He missed the sound of your deep, steady breaths. He missed the scent of you and the way it would linger on his clothes the following morning.

He missed you.

However, Vash was quick to brush those thoughts away, shaking his head to himself as he approached your cabin. He couldn't be thinking about you like that. He couldn't be feeling about you like that. After all, it wouldn't be fair to you. You deserved better than the pitiful, stressful, touch-and go, unsettled life that Vash could offer you, even if he would love you better than anybody else ever could if you gave him the chance. In his eyes, in his mind, it wasn't enough for you. He wasn't enough for you. You deserved better.

However, all his self-deprecating thoughts disappeared the moment he realized that you weren't in your cabin.

'Where did you go?'

Trying hard to quell his rising panic, Vash decided to head up to the open-air decks first and look for you there, as he knew sometimes you, too, had difficulty sleeping. In those times, he tended to find you stargazing, your eyes glued to the heavens, mesmerized by the way the stars seemed to sparkle and dance in the night sky.

So, without wasting a second longer, Vash began to make his way up to the deck.

He walked much faster than he normally did, trying desperately to stop himself from breaking into a sprint all the way up to the deck and preventing his panic from overtaking him completely.

Yet, despite all his efforts, he found himself thinking on repeat, 'Please be safe. Please be safe. Oh, Gods, please let (Y/N) be safe.'

As Vash got up to the deck, he looked around for you, moving around as quickly as he could, desperation and fear beginning to take root in his heart when each place he searched came up empty.

Then, thankfully, he found you.

You sat on a bench on the deck, your head tilted up and your eyes on the heavens, watching the stars as the desert wind ruffled your clothes and hair. When you heard Vash's footsteps, you quickly glanced over to see who was approaching, your body tensing as if anticipating a fight. However, when you realized who it was, you quickly relaxed, an easy and genuine smile appearing on your lips.

"Oh, hey, Vash." You greeted your best friend with a small wave of your hand.

Trying hard not to let his relief be so obvious, Vash came over and sat on the bench next to you, smiling back at you warmly, "Hey, (Y/N). Couldn't sleep?"

"Nah," you answered, sighing softly as you leaned back against the bench, looking out at the endless dunes that passed as the sandsteamer chugged along. "It was simultaneously too loud and too quiet in my room. I couldn't get comfortable."

"I can understand that." Vash chuckled softly, following your gaze out onto the horizon. He let himself relax next to you, all his previous panic and worry fading away as he caught your scent, carried by the breeze.

A comfortable, familiar silence fell over the two of you as you sat there next to each other, taking in the sights of the sea of sand, the night sky and the moons that glowed bright enough to cast shadows. After a few minutes of silence, you allowed yourself to move a bit closer to Vash, letting your head rest on his shoulder as you let out a small sigh.

"It feels weird, sleeping without you being nearby." The words spilled from your lips before you could stop yourself. "I don't like it."

The flutter that Vash's heart gave betrayed the depth of his feelings for you, but he ignored it, focusing instead on answering quietly, "I don't like it, either. I'm not used to sleeping alone, anymore, I guess."

You found yourself looking up at the blonde gunman sitting next to you, a curious look on your face and a hint of worry seeping into your words. "Is that a bad thing?"

Vash couldn't stop himself from looking down at you, his eyes meeting yours as he pondered the answer. Then, after a couple moments, his lips turned upward into a small, amused smile. "No. It's not a bad thing."

You could feel your body relaxing slightly as you let out a breath you hadn't even realized you had been holding. Vash wanted to laugh at just how endearing your obvious relief was, but he restrained himself, instead turning his head so he could tear his gaze away from you, his heart pounding frantically in his chest.

After a couple more moments of comfortable silence between the two of you, you whispered softly, "You need some sleep, Vash."

Your care and concern for him was so obvious, your every word and the tone of your voice so telling that it made Vash want to scream. Instead, he simply offered you a quiet, weak laugh, "Yeah, I know. I just can't seem to get my mind to quiet down is all."

That made you pull away from him, your gaze remaining fixed on his face as you studied him carefully. You knew that Vash struggled with a lot more than what he shared with you, and that he carried a lot more scars than just the physical ones that marred his body. There were scars on his soul, more than you could ever think to know. You could only imagine how heavy a weight he carried on his shoulders and in his heart, and how badly you wished that he'd share some of the load with you. You knew better, though, than forcing him to do so, and you knew that when and if he decided to share any of the burden with you that you would carry it gladly.

Wordlessly, you stood up from the bench, turning so you were facing Vash and extending your hand out to him. Vash looked up at you quizzically, clearly not understanding what was going on. The determination and glint of something he couldn't place in your eyes, however, led him to offer you his prosthetic hand, gently resting it in yours.

Without hesitation, you tugged on his hand gently, clearly wanting him to stand with you. Vash followed your silent requests without complaint or question, but his curious expression remained, his blue eyes trained on your every move. As the two of you stood, you guided one of Vash's hands to your waist, trying hard not to let the heat rise to your face as you did so, before taking his other hand in yours and resting your free hand on his shoulder. Then, slowly, you began to sway the two of you back and forth, as if to some tune.

After a couple seconds, Vash settled into his stance, allowing himself to sway with you on the spot, a small chuckle escaping him. "(Y/N)? What are we doing?"

"Isn't it obvious, Stampede?" You replied, looking up at him with a playful little smile. "We're dancing."

"I figured that much out for myself, oddly enough." Vash answered with a proper laugh, his smile becoming more genuine as he kept his warm gaze on you. "I meant more along the lines of "why are we dancing?"."

You shrugged. "It seemed like a nice night for a dance."

Vash couldn't help but laugh softly at your reasoning, and he let himself relax and enjoy the gentle swaying of the two of you. Tightening his grip on your waist, he gently began to turn the two of you as you swayed, both of you completely unbothered by the lack of music. The thrumming of the sandsteamer's engine, the whistling of the wind, the shifting whisper of the sands, were your music.

You found yourself getting closer and closer to Vash the longer the two of you danced together, unsure if it was you stepping closer to him or him pulling you in or some combination of the two, but you couldn't bring yourself to care. As your head came to rest on his chest and you felt Vash rest his chin on the top of your head, you let your eyes close, focusing on the feeling of Vash against you.

He was your safe space. Your home, in every way that it mattered. Your heart was his, even if he didn't know it, and always would be. And right now, on the deck of the sandsteamer, there was only the two of you in the world, as far as you were concerned. You knew that Vash needed some way to get his mind off his worries so that he could rest, and maybe, just maybe, this would do the trick.

Meanwhile, Vash finally felt his mind fall quiet, his focus solely on you and holding you close to him as the two of you gently rocked from side to side in time to some silent tune. Somehow, just the feeling of you in his arms and dancing with you in the middle of the night on the deck of a sandsteamer was enough to pull him away from the suffering that plagued his mind. You were a soothing balm to the torn, raw and bleeding mess that was his soul.

"You finally dozin' off on me, (Y/N)?" Vash's voice teased you playfully after a couple minutes of silence, a gentle undertone to his words.

You reopened your eyes, pulling your head away from his chest so you could look up into his eyes. "Not yet. I'm just enjoying this. Besides, I don't think I'll be able to sleep when I'm alone again."

A slight frown appeared on Vash's face at your statement, and he whispered back before he could stop himself, "You don't have to be alone."

Your eyes widened as you looked at him, and you could've sworn you saw his cheeks and the tips of his ears darken slightly as he said that. Uncertainty filled you, but so did the overwhelming need to accept Vash's thinly-veiled offer.

All you could bring yourself to ask was, "Are you sure?"

Vash nodded slowly, his eyes not leaving yours for a moment despite the deepening of his blush. "I'm sure. I'd prefer to have you nearby, anyways. It always makes me nervous when you're not close enough for me to protect you."

That made your heart flutter wildly in your chest, and you could feel the heat rising to your own face now as you answered, "You don't always have to protect me, you know?"

Something in Vash's face shifted, a resoluteness taking its place in his eyes as he looked at you, his voice firm and leaving no place for argument or negotiation. "Yes, I do, (Y/N)."

You felt the heat in your face intensify at his resolve and determination to protect you, and while you desperately wanted to ask him where this was coming from, you didn't have the courage to start down that road.

Not yet.

Instead, you asked quietly, "Should we head back, then?"

You could've sworn you felt Vash's grip on your waist tighten a bit, pressing you against him just a little more than before. His expression became warm and tender as he continued to spin the two of you, something you couldn't quite identify shining in his eyes and a genuine smile appearing on his lips.

"Not yet. We've only just gotten started."

[spooblet]

When (S/o) Take Their Jacket (Pt. 1)

NOTE:

I have a bit of writer's block here and there, so I'll post what I have written while I try to brainstorm the others for Pt. 2 <3

Vash The Stampede: 

After waking up from his slumber, Vash slowly rose from the bed and yawned while stretching his arm. He sat there for a while and realized how (Y/n) wasn’t lying beside him. He wasn’t alarmed, or in a panic as they do this now and then: gathering supplies for their rounds of travel. Vash got up and walked towards the bathroom for a quick shower. Upon walking back to the bedroom to change into his clothing and attach his prosthetic arm. He noticed his signature red jacket wasn’t neatly folded on the desk he had left it last night. He looked over the chair, under the bed, the closet, and even opened the window to look down to find his jacket. 

Not a sight at all. 

He was about to panic until he remembered (Y/n).

‘Maybe they know where it is…’  He thought to himself as he put on his long-sleeved shirt and glove. The moment he tied up his lace, he got up to grab the doorknob only to have it swung open and cause him to jump in surprise. (Y/n) walked in, bringing in numerous bags as they waddled their way in.

“No, I don’t need help, I already brought everything.” (Y/n) announced as they lifted one arm with a little huff due to the extra weight. 

Regardless, Vash took some bags off from their other arm to help take some weight off them. No matter how many times they assured him that they didn’t need any help, he refused to accept that. He wants to be there for them as much as they have been there for him. As (Y/n) started to take out food from the bag, Vash then remembered what he was going to ask.

“Oh Hey, by the way. Have you seen…my…” 

At that moment, Vash spotted what he was looking for. His red jacket was nicely worn by his partner as they looked up at him, to see what he was going to ask. Then by the looks of his slightly blushed reaction, it clicked on them,

“Oh!  Sorry…I just threw in whatever that was near me.” 

As (Y/n) tried to take Vash’s jacket off he pulled the jacket back on their shoulder and smiled sweetly at them. 

“There’s no need to apologize, (Y/n). You can wear it, you know. Besides, you look adorable.” He smiled fondly while (Y/n) became a blushing mess at his sudden comment. 

His jacket was just a couple of inches off the ground when (Y/n) wore them compared to when Vash wore it. 

“You doofus.” They bluntly responded, trying to avoid Vash’s gaze when he gave them a sweet compliment. It didn’t help them at all when Vash looked at the back of their head fondly before planting a gentle kiss against their cheek.

Knives Millions

The majority of the time (Y/n) was there, Knives hardly removed his cloak when he was near them. It was either wrapped around his hips, hooded up, or hooded down, but never off. Not once did they question him or request it off. How do you have the courage to go to a powerful entity and ask such a thing? (Y/n) refuses to overstep the boundary Knives put in and remain silent by the topic. They were just glad to be by his side…and being alive overall. 

As if it was an opportunity that was giving to (Y/n), his cloak was hanging by a chair. He was no where on sight. This was a given chance to feel the material of his cloak. (Y/n) looked around to make sure they were in the clear before grabbing it. It felt weird to the touch. It felt soft and rubbery? (Im just spitballing here…) It was tempting to put it around them and sure enough, that’s what (Y/n) did. The cloak was wrapped around their body, snugged in as it draped their body. It was rather long to the point where it dragged on the floor; though (Y/n) wasn’t paying too much attention. It was going to be a quick felt…Or so they thought. 

Knives entered the room. 

The sound of his footstep snapped (Y/n)’s attention to the point where they quickly made eye contact with Knives. His eyes slowly opened wide in shocked by the sight of a human, his human, having his coat wrapped around them. 

“...Explain yourself.” He commanded, though his tone was soft toned rather than his usual demenor. 

“...I was just curious–Sorry, I’ll take it off.” 

(Y/n) took the cloak off them before handing it back to its owner. Knives grabbed it and kept his eye contact locked on them. 

“Leave. I need some time alone.” 

(Y/n) nodded and leaves the room. They were in a panic state but didn’t want to show it. (Y/n) kept thinking how they might have ruin Knives’s trust or ruin their relationship in general by touching his stuff. Though little did they know that it was far from the truth. Knives was left alone from the room holding onto the cloak…blushing slightly from the view he had just witnessed. The sight of his partner wearing his cloak was such refreshing. He let out a sigh then decided that one day he’ll make one for his beloved when he gets the chance. For now, he stayed in the room to recover. Knives didn’t want to leave until he was no longer blushing.

[hikennosabo]

musing about tesla (trimax vol 7)

idk, i feel like this deserves its own post, because i've been thinking so much about her.

cw for... discussion of everything that comes with the tesla territory under the cut.

so, after conrad accepts vash and knives, knives is fully confident that they can get along with humans. and in THAT moment, he sees tesla.

now, in tristamp it said she was alive, but i'm not sure if she's also alive in the manga...? (schrodinger's girl...) i mean i know the report says her "physical functions have ceased," but i ask because... is this a choice she made? like, we know plants can communicate telepathically, so is that what she's doing? showing vash and knives a vision leading them to the truth? or is this like... a ghost/remnant/lingering memory of her (something like in the previous volume when vash saw a vision of knives killing conrad after knives had already left)? because if she is alive... this is the only thing she's ever done - ever been able to do - by her own will. the only action tesla takes, the only agency she has. she wanted the twins to know the truth.

the actual report on tesla is just... i don't even have the right word for it. cruel. detached. clinical. inhuman. calling her a subject and a specimen. they even acknowledge that she's sapient, yet they carried on with the experiments. it's just fucking cold.

like. no wonder rem was so keen on keeping the twins a secret. only she and conrad opposed the experiments, and the other four (i'm assuming four even though we only see three) continued to torture this little girl. (sorry for the crude diagram lol)

the report totals 229 days - seven and a half months - and they never once thought of her as a person. a "question of ethics" was brought up at the day 100 mark (presumably thanks to rem and conrad) but they never change the language they use for her. even on the page i used above, where they're all remembering what they did to tesla, it's not clear how much they regret what happened, or if they wouldn't do it again given the choice. rem certainly doesn't seem to trust them. and in the brief time we see these people, they joke around, show emotions, act human as they are, one of them even hugs rem before going back into cold sleep - you would never guess the depths of the cruelty they were (are) capable of.

i've decided i love tesla and i want to know everything about her. who she would've been as a person. her likes and dislikes. times when she laughed and times when she cried. all taken from her. she could have grown up and helped raise vash and knives. she was never allowed to be a person. she was never given the choice of how to feel about humanity - all she knew was torture. we'll never know her, and vash and knives will never know their sister. all they (and we) have is a cruel, clinical report. tesla herself was never able to know either.

knives's hatred and desire for revenge, as twisted and cruel as he would become himself, was fueled by his anger at her abuse. truly, she is haunting the narrative. a ghost of what could have been. a character defined by absence.

[needlenxggin]

Vash sat there in silence listening to Nai as he began to let all of his feelings out. This was different for Nai but it was for the best and once he really began to boil over like that it put a small sad smile on Vash's face. He didn't want to make his brother feel so rotten but this was for the best as if he accepted his more human side as well maybe it would be for the best.

"You can't fix it, Nai, you just can't and you can't bring anyone back either." Came his brothers soft response his head shaking gently as he gave his hand a small squeeze. "But you can make sure it never happens again. You can make sure no one else has to die. You're going to have to live with what you did but you have to make sure to move forward with it to ensure that you don't do the same thing all over again."

Reaching out he pulled Nai into a hug his lips pressing against his brothers forehead softly. "What didn't help was how far we grew apart. You wanted to kill the humans and I wanted to protect them. We never could agree on and I didn't help in the way I handled you... I hurt you as well and pushed you even further down the path you took but this time I'll be at your side every step of the way."

Vent whatever he had? That felt like too much. That felt like it would hurt Vash and he didn’t want to do that again. But not doing it could also hurt his brother. He shifted a little, his hands finding each other and twisting in a nervous manner as he tried to put his thoughts into words.

That was hard when you didn’t understand half of what you were feeling.

“I feel…angry..mm…frustrated. I am mad at myself…I don’t understand why I would hurt you. You are my brother and yet I did so much bad to you…I-I don’t know what that synching is, but doesn’t sound good…” he took a breath, “I’m afraid…I don’t want to be who I was. I don’t want to remember. If I remember then…then what if I do it all over again? I’m scared of knowing what I’ve done because…it must be really awful if it even hurt you. I don’t want to hurt anyone. Not again. And what happens about what I’ve done? I can’t…”

He felt the emotions bubbling over like an overboiled pot. His vision blurred as tears filled them, his lower lip quivering. “I-If I killed people I can’t bring them back. How do I fix that? H-How…” he reached up, gripping at his head as the aching seemed to grow, “How do I bring them back…?!”

[simping-i-guess]

Scars of the Stampede

Characters with scars being self concious about them is a trope I really like so... whatever.

——————————

          Not once in your months of travel with the legendary Vash the Stampede had you ever seen him unclothed. You had begun thinking his flirtatious nature towards you was simply all talk, as any time you made an attempt to push further than just a few kisses or fooling around, he'd quickly change focus to something else. You hardly questioned it, knowing he didn't owe you any form of physical intimacy, despite your craving for him.

It soon became apparent as to why he had never pursued something farther.

"Ah, (y/n)..." Vash looked over his shoulder, meeting your eyes with a sheepish gaze.

"I... just came to make sure you were doing okay." You mumbled on your words as your eyes slowly trailed down Vash's scarred body. All he had on was a pair of pants, allowing his full upper body to be on display. Your eyes flit from the scars on his shoulders down to the large one placed on his right pectoral. Your eyes continued to roam, trailing down his abdomen, looking to have been stitched up rather carelessly, as if the person doing it didn't care how it'd scar. Finally, your eyes landed on the scar wrapping around his side, looking jagged and pink even now that it was fully healed.

You didn't mean to stare or gawk, and perhaps you should have expected this from the Humanoid Typhoon- but you somehow still found yourself awed by the sheer amount of battery Vash's body had clearly sustained over the years. Finally, your eyes met his again, and you felt guilty seeing the somber expression placed on Vash's features.

"...may I come in? Or would you prefer me to leave?" Your question hung heavily in the air for a moment, before Vash gave a single, small nod.

"You can come in."

You stepped through the room's threshold, quietly pushing the door closed behind you. Vash sat himself down on the edge of the mattress, his elbows resting against his knees as he slightly hunched over. With a slow approach, you took a seat beside him, eyes staying locked on Vash's face. The silence permeated, only being broken by a soft chuckle from the man in front of you.

"I didn't want you to see all this." He told you, a familiar goofy smile being plastered on his features. But you knew him well enough to know that his smile was only hiding his true feelings... Shame? Embarrassment? Perhaps it was a mixture of both.

"Why?" You asked, your voice leaving your throat in a reluctant whisper. Vash laughed again, though no humor was present in it.

"Pretty girls shouldn't see beat up bodies like mine." Vash vaguely gestured down at his torso. "It's unsightly."

"I don't think so." You argued, though your voice still came out in a meek tone. Your eyes again dared to wander, and you examined the expansive scars decorating the Stampede's back. Not thinking much, you reached out, your fingers slowly tracing around one of the large, jagged scars. "It's proof of what you've managed to survive. There's nothing unsightly about that."

"Hm..." Vash hummed thoughtfully, his eyes coming to close. "You don't have to lie. I've been told how gross they are before."

"Tsh. By who?" You questioned, aggravation apparent in your tone.

"A few passerby here and there, maybe a woman or two... I've come to expect it."

Vash's answer frustrated you, and you were frustrated on his behalf. How dare they? You thought, brows pinching as you bit your inner cheek. How could they be so harsh to someone so kind?

You shifted, sitting on your knees to be a bit higher. With the delicate touch of a mother cradling a child, you pressed a kiss against Vash's shoulder. You were keenly aware of the rough texture brushing against your lips, but you weren't repulsed. No, not by any stretch of the word. You could only feel the swell of affection within your chest, heart fluttering against your ribs.

Vash didn't miss your action either- he watched you with a surprised expression, eyes staying trained on you as you pressed yet another kiss to his scarred shoulder.

"It's not unsightly, Vash." You repeated, now allowing your fingers to trace the scars on Vash's bicep. "At least, I don't think so, for whatever that's worth."

Vash's expression slowly settled into a very soft smile. With his free hand, he carefully stroked it down the side of your head, being careful not to press to hard with his metal digits. "Your opinion is worth a lot to me, (y/n)."

Despite his more accepting words, you could see behind his expression. He wasn't convinced. He still felt that his body was ugly, and you hated knowing that. You frowned, visible enough for Vash to comment.

"What's wrong?" He asked. You didn't respond verbally, only placing a hand on his chest and giving him an encouraging nudge. Vash slowly settled himself onto his elbows, his eyes staring up at you through his lashes. "Wh-"

"All the way down, Vash." You commanded, though your tone never hardened. You caught the way Vash's cheeks flushed as his back hit the mattress, the soft thud giving way to silence yet again.

Wordlessly, you straddled Vash's hips, keeping yourself above his sensitive areas. This wasn't the first time you had straddled the man, though the way his face flushed could lead you to believe otherwise.

With slow, delicate touches, you pressed the tips of your fingers against Vash's jaw, and slowly began working your way down. Your dragged your fingers against his skin, stopping at each scar along the way. You payed them extra attention, carefully stroking down them with the pads of your fingers. You felt Vash shudder beneath you, and you paused your actions.

"Are you okay?" You asked, trying to find the answer within Vash's complicated expression. "Is it hurting you?"

"N-... No, it's not..." Vash's response was stuttered.

"Does it feel good? Bad?" You allowed your head to tilt slightly with your question.

"Ah, good... definitely good..." Vash paused, his brows knitting slightly. "It's just-"

"No one has ever touched you like this before?" You interrupted him, letting out a disgruntled sound when he confirmed with a nod. "Figures." Your thumbs carefully swiped across one of the scars on Vash's chest. "I'm sure if someone ever had given you this kind of attention, you'd think a lot differently about these." You softly stroked your finger down a long, raised scar on Vash's ribcage.

Vash didn't speak. From his expression, he didn't seem to know what to say, but it was obvious that he didn't want you to stop. He relaxed more and more under your tender touch, his eyes carefully fluttering closed as your hands danced across the scars etched into his hips.

While your hands had come to their destination, you would carry on. Pulling any stray hair away from your face, you leaned down to press a chaste kiss on Vash's chest. You heard his breath hitch, but the way his hand gently rested against your shoulder seemed to invite you to continue.

One by one, you planted soft kisses on each of his accessible scars, peppering multiple little kisses on the larger ones. Down the straight scar sliced down his abdomen you kissed, covering every inch of it with affection. The hand on your shoulder slowly moved up to caress your cheek, and you softly laid your hand against the back of his, turned your head and placed a kiss on his weathered palm. Then, remembering the scar that wrapped around his wrist, you pulled his hand away just enough to get a firm idea on where to plant your next kiss- right against the inside of his wrist, and against the scar that had been put there.

Vash squirmed a bit, letting a soft breath escape from between his previously closed lips. He cracked an eye open to peer at you, only to meet your hooded gaze. Maintaining full eye contact, you pulled his arm up just a few inches, placing an especially long, tender kiss against the scar lining his extensor. Again, Vash shuddered, and a soft noise escaped his throat. He still didn't look away, no- he couldn't take his eyes off of you.

"You're in no way unsightly, Vash." You  allowed your voice to come out a rough whisper, and you offered Vash a quaint smile. "Truly, I think you're very beautiful."

Vash offered you but a single nod. He didn't question you or assert otherwise, nor did he seem embarrassed anymore. If anything, he looked rather sultry, looking up at you with a half lidded gaze and his lips slightly parted.

With a final kiss to his knuckles, you were ready to get off of Vash, not wanting to push him farther. "Are you ready to sleep?" You asked.

"Ah..." Vash seemed... hesitant. His free hand hovered over your hip, but didn't make contact. Your brows raised,  and you wondered... "I... If you'd be up for..." Vash couldn't seem to find the words he wanted.

You let yourself chuckle a little- Vash acted so smooth and flirty when you first met, but now you could plainly see that it was mostly all talk. Still, you wouldn't pass up the chance to show Vash more intimately just how beautiful and wonderful you thought he was.

"I thought you'd never ask."

——————

Full version with smut available here~!

[centipede-rain]

The surreal life (Qcard oneshot)

What if in Qpid, when Q offered to help Picard with his speech, he hadn't declined? What would have gone differently?

Link to the AO3 version: https://archiveofourown.org/works/34899781

“…. I would have taken my own life but for you.”

Picard stares at Q blankly.

Of course he is glad deep down, glad the being (which has brought infinite seas of trouble every single time he showed up on his ship) is still alive and well, just waiting to cause more problems on purpose.

But that doesn’t mean he has to know about that.

We all make mistakes.”

He isn’t quite sure whether the impish smile of humanities judge is a genuine one. Sometimes his face is so expressive, sometimes it’s nothing but a mask for the god-like alien to hide behind.

“Your good deed made possible my reinstatement in the Continuum, and I resent owing you anything. So, I'm here to pay up. Tell me, what is it you wish and I'll be gone.”

Pay up? What for? For not refusing a sentient entity refuge, not leaving them to die in a time of need? For not even noticing he was about to take his life to save them all? For unsuccessfully trying to save him from the calamarain? They did try, but they didn’t accomplish anything.

He has nothing to be indebted for. So why is he really here?

Q doesn’t seem like the sort of person to talk about “debt” easily, but he does follow his word in a twisted sense of the word, so he must have some kind of plan.

“Just be gone. That'll do nicely.”

He does seem sort of agitated now. But surely he must have anticipated him to react like that? When has he ever been willing to accept one of Qs “gifts“, when they were usually either a temptation or brought more problems than good?

“No, no, no, no, no. It has to be something more, more constructive. That's my new word for the day.”

He really doesn’t have the time to fix an egocentric gods ego, he has to get his speech ready. Not only will there be the leading archaeologists of the decade, there will also be Vash. But to his surprise he notices that he isn’t as excited about her presence aboard anymore. Somehow it’s just not the same as on Risa..

“Some other time, Q. Right now I have other matters to attend to.”

“Yes, your speech. I read it. It's dull, plodding, pedantic, much like yourself.”

Now he has Picards attention. He knows he shouldn’t listen to Q, who is probably only trying to get a rise out of him. But dull? What if Q is speaking the truth? He did not say this about other speeches of his… granted, he was on trial back then (and technically speaking still is) but still… the words gnaw at him somehow.

Sensing victory, Q grins.

“I could help you with it.“

So he’s serious about settling this “debt” he keeps speaking about…

It doesn’t seems like he is willing to drop the matter either. Perhaps it would be best to accept his “help“ and get it over with, before he starts throwing a temper tantrum.

It’s only a speech after all. What could go wrong?

What could go wrong. If that isn’t under the top ten of sentences spoken seconds before disaster.

But it does seem safer than letting Q find a more creative way to settle his debt. What if he decides to dig around his head instead, ultimately choosing to fulfill some silly wish like he haphazardly thinks about once upon a blue moon, like cookies with raisins being illegal? The sheer chaos he could accidentally create, trying to “help”….

“Alright Q, help me with my speech if it makes you happy, but afterwards you’re leaving.“

“Splendid!”

The being beams down at him.

“Now, where shall we begin then?”

“Normally I would ask you to read the speech, but since you find it so dull and pedantic, I suppose you’re already familiar with it?”

Annoying how Q can just instantly know everything he has so carefully planned to talk about, simply by wanting to know.

“Of course Jean-Luc! I never decide on a verdict without being familiar with all the facts first. What kind of judge do you take me for?”

Picard tries not to glare at Q, but his diplomatic side looses to his annoyance.

“Am I supposed to answer truthfully? You might not like the answer very much.”

Thankfully Q only laughs, obviously delighted by their little exchange of blows. He genuinely seems to enjoy their little quarrels, and he supposes that’s probably better than the alternative.

“Why so rude, mon capitaine? Your manners are always so impeccable with other people, even with Troi’s mother, who I know for sure you despise conversing with! You must really like me, to make an exception…“

Picard sighs ignoring Qs highly suggestive wink. Why must he be so damn irritating?

“Either you make yourself useful or leave me alone. I have to hold this speech tomorrow, and I would like it to be perfect”

Q narrows his eyes.

“Before you do anything, I should probably point out to you that that was merely an exaggeration. I don’t require it to literally be “perfect“, so don’t get too excited..”

“Oh, you were using a hyperbola then! How fancy!”

“I suppose stylistic devices are as good as any place to start. How much do you know about them?”

“Well, since exactly now…” (Q snaps his fingers dramatically,) “..absolutely everything. Wow Jean-Luc, this is incredibly boring and tedious.”

“No one is forcing you to stay, you know. I will do just fine without you.”

“You wound me! I have a debt to-“

“Yeah yeah,” Picard interrupts, his patience finally running out.

“I get it. Now can we please concentrate on the matter at hand? Oh great, magnificent Q, share your infinite knowledge about pedantic speeches with me, and I shall surely be eternally grateful.”

The way Qs dark eyes glint at that statement immediately make Picard regret his outbreak.

“What a truly dangerous thing to say to a Q, mon capitaine, you’re truly lucky it’s just good old me.”

“I don’t feel very lucky yet.”

He is playing a dangerous game, he knows that. But first the problems with Vash, now Q being aboard solely to criticise his speech. It’s just too much.

“You will in time, believe me.“

After a moment of silence, he adds:

“I think you should add more metaphors, they will liven it up a bit. Break the boring flow of facts.”

Picard considers this for a moment.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to come across as unprofessional.”

“Just trust me. Add one… hmmm…” he points at one of the longer paragraphs

“Right here.”

Picard makes a mental note to review that idea later. Of course he’d rather do this alone, but why not take the offered help if he has to bother with Q one way or another?

“Alright, anything else?”

The entities smile widens.

“I’m so glad you asked! Do you want my suggestions for improvement in alphabetical order, or rated by the percentage of probability of you accepting them?”

Alright, he is already regretting this whole arrangement.

“I really don’t care. Let’s just get this over with.“

Q dramatically unrolls an ancient looking pell, which comically keeps on getting longer, rolling across the floor of the ready room.

This bastard is really using cartoon logic just to make fun of me.

His presumably very rude reply to Qs antics is interrupted by the chime of the door.

“Enter.“

It’s Riker, whose confident stride abruptly comes to a halt once he sees Q.

“Captain, what is Q doing here? Should I alert security?”

He opens his mouth to answer, immediately being interrupted by Q.

“What could one of your puny security teams possibly do against me? Think before you speak, Riker”

Deciding to ignore Q just as Riker is currently doing (petty but effective) he answers his first officers question.

“This is his version of doing “something nice” for me. He’s trying to help me with my lecture about Tagus three.”

Riker nods, his gaze conveying nothing but empathy and understanding for his situation.

“I’ll alert the crew.”

Q rolls his eyes as the door swishes shut.

“Our dear Riker, always so charming.”

“I do believe that there are quite a few individuals out there that would agree with your sentiment.”

He almost laughs at Qs scandalized expression.

“Jean-Luc! I never thought you to be so profane!”

His scandalized expression then turns into a devious smirk.

“I like it though.”

Ignoring this last quip, he scans the unending list of ideas Q has for spicing up his lecture. Most of which are no doubt completely counterproductive, but he still can’t help his curiosity.

“I’m curious. Out of your suggestions, which is the one I’m least likely to accept?”

“Suggestive background dancers in the traditional gowns of Tagus three.”

He can’t suppress the chuckle this time.

“I can’t even come close to explaining to you how disrespectful that would be to their culture.“

“But it would be fun, wouldn’t it?”

“Indeed.”

“Is that a yes?“

“It’s a strict no.“

T I M E S K I P

“Well, your lecture is certainly better now, but… it still lacks a certain something. Hmmm……”

Now if only Q wasn’t looking like the exact real life replica of a scheming cartoon villain right now…

“Why do I get the feeling that you’re about to suggest something I don’t like.“

The alien’s impish grin is decidedly not a good sign.

“I know! Your speeches are always impeccable when you have to defend something! So, for the sake of the lectures quality you are hereby on trial to defend the ruins of Tagus three. To win them the right of continuing their existence, you must only convince your cherished audience, me, of how interesting and historically important they are.”

Picard stares at him incredulously.

“Surely you must be joking.”

Q snaps his fingers, changing his captains uniform to his red judge robes, blue lipstick and all.

“Am I really, Jean-Luc? Do you really want to find out?”

Picard is like 80% sure he wouldn’t actually make the ruins disappear.

Okay, maybe 50%, you never know with Q.

Better safe then sorry, he supposes. I wanted to practice one more time anyway

T I M E S K I P

As soon as he has said his last words, the room is filled with roaring applause. The nervous weight in his chest is finally replaced by a feeling of accomplishment and pride.

As much as it pains him to admit it, Q did prove helpful in spicing up his lecture after all.

As soon as he has left the podium, someone hands him a glass of champagne, while others are already complimenting him, shaking his hands and asking for his opinion on their own theories.

A young blonde archeologist brings him back to reality by staring at him questioningly.

“Sorry?“

She smiles sheepishly.

“I asked how you managed to prepare such a good speech on such a short notice. It’s certainly an impressive feat.“

“Well, I must admit, I did have a bit of divine help, if you can call it that.“

She cocks her head, curious.

“How curious, I'd never have taken you to be a religious man.“

He chuckles lightly.

“Sometimes you just don’t have a choice.“

[dreaming-gamer]

Eyy! Now, I have a proper V HC request, hihi!😍😍😍❤❤❤🙈🙈🙈 The gang ( include anyone you want ) introducing V to his very first cosplay convention!😍😍😍❤❤❤ I'll patiently wait, my dear. I love your V HCs so much😍😍😍❤❤❤

Hello dear! <3<3<3 Thank you so much for liking my headcanons and the request! :D :D :D I’m sorry this one took so long, I should have posted this one much earlier but better late than never? *sweats* 

In any case, here we go! <3<3<3

Random headcanon: Cosplay convention

Nico:

Nico is the first one to jump at the idea when she finds out V has never been to a cosplay convention. She loves those because people just let their creativity flow and she is among them. Creating an impressive cosplay that lets her display her genius, oh that’s right up her alley.

Of course the work on the van and Nero’s Devil Breakers go first, but the Queen of Machines can juggle that and more if needs be. If she’s going to a convention, you can bet she’s going to show off something that’s flashy and functional.

She’s all for helping the others find something they want to dress up in as well, they don’t even have to take something as spectacular as she does, if they don’t want to. If they do, she’s all for helping them with something on the more mechanical style as sewing and fabrics aren’t her thing.

Honestly, she just wants her friends to come along, try the event out. If someone really doesn’t want to dress up, she won’t push the suggestion too much but if she can work on them for a bit, they might open up to it. She’s the one to convince V to come along, claiming she can find just the right character for him.

Though Nico is able and considered fixing a workable Gundam costume (complete with rockets and guns, could it get better?!), she ultimately chose Mei Hatsume from My Hero Academia as her own cosplay character because let’s face it, it would let her show off more of her creations.

The costume itself she found online, cheap and the inventions are the important part, so that’s all good for her. A prototype is customized to function as a flying skateboard for anyone who wants to try, an Overture is remodeled to set off (harmless) fireworks rather than demon-killing sparks, a Dr Faust replica with built-in video and audio to teach you Michael Jackson moves on the go, she brings an array of different inventions and many are a success with younger audiences.

Nero (& Kyrie):

Nero’s never been to a cosplay convention, he’s just as new to them as V is. As a kid, he wanted to dress up and go to gatherings like that because it looked fun and hopefully no one would look at him funny, as they did in the Order.

Now that he feels more secure in his own skin, having come to terms with his heritage and how he can use it to protect his family, Nero doesn’t feel the immediate need to dress up for the convention but when Kyrie mentions it might be fun, he falls for the suggestion.

Whenever the orphans’ clothes get holes, Kyrie fixes them with her sewing but she is uncertain she has the skills and the time to fix herself and Nero matching outfits in time for the convention, when they have both decided they’ll go. And Nico has convinced them that they’ll have the most fun if they dress up.

Nero is supportive, he’s fine with whichever costume Kyrie wants to do, he doesn’t push and he’s fine with just going as they are as well if it spares Kyrie some trouble, but the kids are very insistent. And Kyrie sometimes has a hard time saying no to them.

Knowing it’s one of Kyrie’s favorite Disney movies, Nero suggests Beauty and the Beast for the two of them. Kyrie wants Nero to have fun and get the whole experience by dressing up, but at first, she is a little bit hesitant about his suggestion. She never wants Nero to feel like she doubts him or his humanity ever again.

They have been through a lot and so, they just talk it out, ending the discussion with soft whispers of love and care and in agreement over their choice.

As for their costumes, they don’t buy anything new. They check their closets for anything unused or something that can just be adjusted. In their eyes, the details don’t have to be perfect as long as they are both having fun. Kyrie also has a field day trying to put make-up on Nero’s face for the Beast look. Honestly, she does a good job. And the clothes she adjusted for Nero’s blue Beast attire, as well as her own blue and white dress for Belle, look great and she feels proud over her work.

At the convention, Nero will make sure to keep an eye on her, make sure she won’t be dehydrated or stay on her feet for too long in queues. It’s mostly unexplored ground for both of them, but they have a lot of fun just people-watching and following the three orphans under their care around, as the boys point out characters that they know everywhere. If the boys don’t recognize someone, they’ll run right up and ask.

Their camera roll is full of pictures of other cosplayers and the kids posing at the end of the day. And Nico snuck in a few pictures of Nero and Kyrie as well.

Dante:

It’s a party, Dante’s interested, enough said. He doesn’t mind grabbing the most ridiculous outfits if it gives him the love of the crowd. At a convention, people of all ages gather so it will be some simple, awesome fun.

As for him choosing a cosplay, the Dr. Faust hat has made him realize he rocks wearing a hat so he initially thought of cosplaying Alucard from Hellsing but after realizing V would cosplay another Alucard, he switched gears. Actually, Dante might just prefer cosplaying a character that likes having fun, just like he does.

By coincidence, he found Vash the Stampede from Trigun and though there is no hat involved, hey, the guy rocks red just as well as Dante does and he uses guns. Does Dante know anything about the character? Not really but that doesn’t stop him from rocking it. Plus, Dante already has red clothes, it’s just a matter of going into character because adjusting those clothes, he knows not how to do.

At said convention, he instantly clicks with a Deadpool cosplayer and they dance to Michael Jackson songs. They also photobomb some cosplay shoots, all in good fun. He lives for the spirit of people just having fun and humans just being humans, gathering thanks to a common interest.

Dante is the type who comes to a convention with several outfits. Or at least he would, if he had enough money for it. Since most of his paycheck goes to keeping the gas, water and electricity at Devil May Cry running, he resorts to simple, but effective ways to show off character, both his own and from other series.

V:

When the idea of going to a cosplay convention is first introduced to him, along with what it actually entails, he’s a bit skeptical. Nico telling him that there will be a ton of people doesn’t really sell him on it as he’s not that fond of crowds. But hearing that many will dress up as characters from stories they enjoy catches his attention. If he agrees to go, maybe he should be sure to make the most of it. And when Nico notices that shift in his demeanor, she keeps pushing him to join, juuust a bit.

For V, cosplay sounds like a way to show appreciation for characters and the stories they star in. Being the big fan of literature and poetry that he is, this aspect of the event does trigger his interest but when Nico gives him the idea to try out cosplay himself, she suggests that he shouldn’t go with cosplaying William Blake. Griffon laughs out loud at the mere idea but his suggestion of V cosplaying as a Disney princess (the orphans under Nero’s and Kyrie’s care have tried to show the avian various Disney movies, further adding to his arsenal of nicknames for V), is equally shot down.

V does want to put some thought and care into who to cosplay, but he also acknowledges his lack of sewing skills and is not too into the thought of buying a costume for himself with his limited funds. Kyrie offers to help but he is hesitant to accept it, seeing how she is trying to make something wearable for both herself, Nero and three little boys.

Ultimately, Nico and surprisingly, Dante become his greatest helpers. The childhood home of the sons of Spardas might have mostly fallen apart, but there are still some of their father’s old black robes in one of the rooms. It needs some adjustments, being too big on V’s lean frame, but the length is pretty spot on.

Nico demonstrates an automatic multi-tool that includes both measuring and sewing capabilities, as well as a laser pointer and a demon alarm that accidentally trips when Griffon is present. V doesn’t ask why she saw the necessity to put all of those functions together, but in the end, two of them are helpful for their situation. And she will show it off at the convention, as part of her genius.

How Dante does it, V doesn’t know, but one day, a long blonde wig is delivered to Devil May Cry, perfect for his decided cosplay. Turns out Dante’s flirt with the lady at the costume shop was helpful.

Ultimately, V feels very satisfied with his appearance as Alucard from Castlevania. The black robes are a different material from his regular leather vest but it’s still in black and thus, he feels right at home in it rather quickly. The long blonde wig takes some more time to adjust to.

What he had not anticipated were people asking to photograph him in this getup but thankfully, V took his time to research his character’s lines and mannerisms. Alucard is a gentleman, so V doesn’t find it very hard at all.

During the convention, Nero and Kyrie have enough on their plate, keeping an eye on the boys, so Nico usually stays close to V. Their chosen media are not anything alike, but that hardly matters. Nico is easily swept up in the excitement of the convention and seeing her makes V think that letting loose once in a while isn’t so bad.

Griffon stars in V’s cosplay as well, dressed up as a bat.

The next day, V will be a bit socially exhausted. Expect him to keep to himself with his book and tea for a good remainder of the day.

[punisheye]

The hand at Vash's thigh stays there, fingers working gently into the muscle, Vash's coat pooling around his wrist, and no, Wolfwood isn't innocent to what he's doing and the effect it's having. He has to stop himself from smirking when he can practically see Vash's brain shut down and then attempt to reboot, when he sees that blush splash across his face. He lets up only enough for Vash to actually be able to formulate a sentence, but his hand remains a heavy, warm weight there. Their foreheads rest together and his lips twitch.

His heart twists. Even though he had resigned himself to his own death the moment he bit down on that vial, even though he'd accepted it when he picked up that bottle of booze and sat on that couch, he knew it wasn't fair to Vash. He knew Vash would grieve, even if he didn't understand why, because Wolfwood didn't ever consider himself worthy of anyone grieving for him. How long did Vash cry for him when his heart stopped? When he had to bury him? Does he want to know?

This must be like loving a ghost. Wolfwood sure feels like one.

The kiss chases off any of those thoughts for now and he relaxes into it, letting himself feel the shape of Vash's lips against his own, how warm they are, soft, gentle. He almost chases it when Vash pulls away, but he lets him continue speaking. And how many times did Wolfwood tell him to think about what he wanted? To be selfish? He was allowed to want things; allowed to demand them sometimes, even. Vash had let himself be pinned under the heel by others for so long, even if he didn't realize it. Wolfwood was the same, no matter how in control of himself he tried to act.

They can be selfish. They're free to be selfish here.

Wolfwood doesn't think he's softened this much for anyone in his life. The scowl is gone, his jaw isn't tense, all his muscles are relaxed. There is a little smile playing at his lips and his eyes are half-lidded. It's an extremely vulnerable state, a blatant display of trust. He leans in when those arms wrap around him. Swallows hard when Vash finally says it. Those words that had been hanging heavy in the air between them, unsaid, for who knows how long. His heart stutters and a lump forms in his throat.

Again, he can be selfish. Let himself have this. Even if he's still terrified of staining Vash with the blood on his hands, those hands that he went so long thinking were only capable of causing pain, destruction. He's still convinced that's true but... for the man in his lap, maybe not. He can be gentle here. Wolfwood lets out a shaky breath and the arm around Vash moves to his waist, the hand on his thigh moving to the other leg, up to his hip, to pull him entirely into his lap. It takes some maneuvering, some light coaxing with his hands to move his legs, to get Vash to face him fully, settled in the cradle of his lap.

Wolfwood doesn't respond with words at first. They're still stuck. He's never said them before, not once. Even if he'd wanted to so, so many times. First, he rests his hands back on Vash's waist and tilts his chin up to catch Vash's lips with his own again and kisses him like it's the last thing he'll do. Heat stirs in his chest, in his gut, his face warm and eyes stinging.

Monsters could be worthy of love, huh? Even an angel's love?

A ragged exhale through his nose and then, against Vash's lips, voice low like he's shy about saying it despite everything, he murmurs, "... Love you."

So, so much.

One hand comes up to bury itself in Vash's hair again as he slots their mouths together — deeper this time, his tongue running along Vash's bottom lip, poking teasingly into his mouth before pulling back. Wolfwood squeezes his arm around his waist, lingers, then breaks the kiss to slump back and look up at the man in his lap. Wolfwood lets out a rough, breathless laugh, the hand on the back of Vash's head coming to rest on his cheek.

He's beautiful. Handsome. Those blue eyes like the clear sky, and the black hair even looks good on him; he'll have to ask about it, too. The sharp angle of his jaw and curve of his nose. The blush across his cheeks. Everything. It really is looking at an angel. He feels a little sappy, a little corny even thinking that, but it's true.

"God," he breathes out. "Don't even feel like I deserve ta look at ya."

★ --;; Oh, Vash quickly realizes. He's made a mistake. A grave error. Because as soon as Wolfwood's hand is on his thigh- and squeezing!- his entire brain feels like it shuts down, a fuse blown. Tries a hard reset to get it going again, feels the flush bloom hard and fast across the tips of his ears and the high of his cheeks, but sparks out once more. It takes a few tries for everything to come back online again, but he's still thoroughly distracted, heat warm and molten in his gut, low voice rumbling in his ears. Luckily he's at least given some semblance of a reprieve as Wolfwood closes his eyes, huffing out a small bit of air through his nose he hadn't been aware was stuck there.

When Wolfwood finally speaks up again though Vash visibly softens, leans more of his weight into Wolfwood's shoulder where they touch. He leans in a bit closer as well, so their foreheads press together, and a small, bordering on sad smile tugs up on one side of his mouth from where it had fallen. I'd be with you anywhere, if I could.

(Wolfwood doesn't need to know about just how long he'd sat on that couch, screaming and crying with no one to answer him. How long he'd lain in that grave before finally getting up to bury a piece of himself there.)

But then those fingers are back at it again, and if they keep that up Vash thinks there's a whole lot of things that he wants, but none of those things are entirely conducive to the conversation trying to be had here. "Uh--," he starts. He has to shake his head a little, like he's clearing it of the warm static fogging up his senses. One hand drops to rest against the offending forearm, as if it'll be much help.

"First," Vash finally manages, trying to circle back around. He takes a deep breath through his nose and his voice softens again, easily sinking back into that earlier gentleness in his chest. "I... You know I would've stayed. Nothin' in the whole world could've stopped me." Even if it hurt. Even if he'd begged to God for it not to be the end. He couldn't just not be there for the person who's palms he'd trusted his entire self in.

"And, I... I didn't think I'd ever--... Ever get to see you again." Had thought his life would forever be separated into three distinct chapters, world defining; Before, During, and After. His chest constricts, and he has to swallow hard around the lump that grows in his throat all of a sudden, extremely determined to not start crying again. Instead, his free hand comes up to Wolfwood's jaw, thumbing across his cheek as he kisses him again, lingering and tender as if to memorize the feeling, before slowly pulling back again. "So glad would be kind of an understatement," he half-way laughs. "And-- uh. As for what I want..."

He pauses. It's still strange being asked so openly what he wants, though. It's taken so long for Vash to even be capable of even considering taking those wants-- though Wolfwood himself had no small part in beating that into his skull. Still, the words are stubborn to come out, brain churning. He can feel his face heating up again. Both arms come back up to loop around Wolfwood's shoulders even at this angle, as if to block out everything else.

"Anything you'll give me," he says quietly. He'd wanted tomorrows and he had them now, cradling the both of them with their promises. "I--." Just-- get it out there, you coward. They get stuck in his chest, in his throat, fluttering wingbeats both threatening to burst out and almost too crowded, too overwhelmed to do so. "I love you."

[anyasathenaeum]

Hi! If I could request headcanons for Vash and Wolfwood (separately) noticing that a chubby y/n doesn’t eat in front of people? :D

A/N: Hiya! I can absolutely write that for you! :D Thanks for being my very first request! Hope this is what you were hoping for ~

Vash the Stampede

Vash would notice pretty quickly that you refused to eat in a group setting, or even when it was just you and one other person - he's pretty perceptive so it catches his eye early on in knowing you

At first, he figured that maybe it was just one of your quirks, but as time went on and he saw you continuing to not eat in front of others, he eventually began to be concerned

He'd be very sweet about it, though - bringing it up to you once the two of you were by yourselves and nobody else was around

"Hey, (Y/N)? I-I just noticed that you don't eat. Are you okay? Is something bothering you? Is there anything I can do?"

At first, you just brushed him off, making light of the situation and not taking it seriously.

However, as time went on, eventually, you caved and told Vash the truth, about how being chubby made you feel more self-aware of how your appearance and actions were perceived by others.

Vash didn't even blink, immediately giving you a soft smile and tugging you close to him in a very warm, gentle hug, whispering compliments to you and encouraging you.

"What you look like doesn't matter one bit, (Y/N). You've always been beautiful in my eyes!"

He would completely understand your preference of not eating in front of others, and the man would bend over backwards trying to make sure that you feel comfortable and are well-fed regardless.

Vash would really just want you to be well taken care of and he accepts you for who you are, and never fails to remind you of that fact every minute he can.

He would also make a point of distracting people during mealtimes and giving you a chance to be more comfortable or slip away if you needed to.

Overall, 110% would just try to make you feel as comfortable as possible and would accept you for who you are in your entirety without a second thought. <3

Nicholas D. Wolfwood

I feel like Wolfwood would NOT get the memo until you literally yell at him

He can be a little... dense™.

You'd be sitting around the campfire with the others, refusing to eat while the others do

Remember in Trigun Stampede the scene of Wolfwood shoving food into Meryl's face? Yeah, he'd pull that on you, too, unfortunately, until you literally yell at him to stop and that it's not funny before you got up and walked away.

Definitely confused by the situation, but despite being a bit rough around the edges, he still understands that what he did was not okay given your reaction and goes to talk to you one-to-one

"What was that about?" he'd ask you, still sorta joking and seeing if you're still upset or not

You don't answer him, prompting him to actually sit next to you, looking over at you

"You wanna tell me what's goin' on, sweetheart?"

Eventually, you'd explain that you don't like to eat in front of others and that it made you uncomfortable

When he realizes what he's done, he does feel kinda bad that he put you into an uncomfortable position and grumbles out an apology as well as an offhand compliment

"Your body may be different, doesn't mean you shouldn't eat though. There's just more of you for people to love."

Wolfwood would still definitely try to make you as comfortable as he can (within reason to himself), but his approach would be more subtle - toning down his own shenanigans and jokes, not pestering you like he used to about the topic, also distracting others and giving you a way out of uncomfortable situations.

Overall, would be dense at first but once he understands, also very supportive and adjusts his behaviour to ensure he doesn't hurt you again.

[severalspoons]

Liveblog: Rewatching Trigun, Episode 20

Surprise, this blog series continues! I have no intention of letting it end at episode 19. (I mean, that’s not even a nice round number!) While these aren’t liveblogs any more, they still give me an opportunity to discuss meta. 

Life lesson learned: once you start a series of anything, do not stop until it’s finished--no matter what other projects come up, no matter how shiny they are, and no matter how much you’re dreading watching episode 23. Since I do my best work when feeling inspired, I hate to wait and let my enthusiasm for the new project cool, but jumping ship only ends in two unfinished projects instead of one.

This is going to be arranged by theme, not so much chronologically. Also, it ended up being more about Wolfwood than originally intended.  Including a spoiler, so be careful.

Millie’s Transmitter

Millie reports that the Chief of Bernadelli gave her a transmitter/tracking device, which must be a rare, valuable piece of technology -- to prevent anyone from outwitting her. Meryl replies that this is nothing to brag about. I disagree.

First of all, the chief cares about her enough to entrust her with this bragworthy technology. She must have earned his trust and good opinion, also an achievement. He could easily punish or fire her, but instead gives her a tool to perform better. Countless people with learning disabilities dream of bosses like this. 

People tend to take a harmful all-or-nothing attitude towards disabilities. Either PWD are incapable of doing things and nothing can be done about it, or they are capable of doing things, and shouldn’t need help. Since people with disabilities themselves live in society, they end up indoctrinated and taking the same attitudes towards themselves. Shame and self-hatred often result. People strive for years, often with therapy, to get to the matter of fact acceptance Millie shows here.

***

Vash in Hell

Everything is red, from the beginning. The sand, himself and his clothes, the sky. Knives comes into view, blurry and mostly in shadow, only one eye visible.  What looks like meteors, probably chunks from the ships, fall through the sky like rain. We’re seeing from Vash’s point of view.

When waking Vash, Knives’ voice is normal, sounding like a real child. It doesn’t change to his growly evil voice until Vash accuses him of being a murderer. Then, his eye loses its pupil, and he suddenly appears to have fangs. He looks like he’s become some sort of monster. Not human, as Vash says.

Knives beats him up for even daring to compare him to a human. What hurts the most about this is you know it’ll be a long time, and probably many more such beatings, before Vash leaves.

Was it ever possible to take care of Knives? Was Rem’s last request reasonable?

Vash announces he’s finally ready to face Knives. What impresses me most: he’s finally making a significant decision for himself.

***

Meet the Folks

How is Vash more attractive in normal clothes than his signature coat, even in scenes showing only his face? Speaking of which, this episode is full of beautiful shots of Vash’s face. Wolfwood’s, too. 

How the hell did Wolfwood get here? He said he was concerned about Vash crying then jumping off a cliff, and followed him. However, he seems to have climbed up from below. How would he have found a floating platform? Certainly, none is visible below him. And since he seems to know nothing about the flying ship, he can’t have taken Vash’s strategy and jumped onto a platform at just the right time. 

“Come meet the folks!” Yes, they actually do have a summer cottage in the sky. Ever wonder why Vash’s head is always in the clouds? ;) 

Wolfwood actually says “I’m getting sick of your lies.” Hypocritical much?

Wolfwood is the first guest Vash has brought “home” in over 20 years (in other words, since he became The Stampede)! 

Does that mean that the whole time Vash has been on the run, he hasn’t visited the SEEDS ship (probably to prevent anyone tracking him from discovering it)? Vash could have simply hid out for the last 20 years in the SEEDS ship; it’s his home, after all. Instead, he chose to go out and protect people from Knives, and each other. (How many of us would have made the same choice?)

***

Inside Legato’s Lair

What does this informant know about Chapel’s duties? From the way Legato dismisses his concerns, it seems like Knives’ followers aren’t given much information about each other.

Wolfwood is now doomed. “You’re such a fool. Had you behaved, you might have lived to see Doomsday. But I’m pleased, for I now have the opportunity to carry out another of my master’s wishes.” 

A surprisingly restrained evil chuckle from Legato. Thank you for sparing us a full-on villain laugh.

How does Legato get shoulder padding that sticks out that far? Each shoulder is almost twice as big as his head.

***

A Series of Awkward Events

The ship has a whole observation team. No one should be able to get up here without the SEEDS leaders knowing, right? Right? ...

The old man tells Brad Vash has changed over the years. How? 

After all this buildup, Brad opens the door, letting in blinding light, and this is what he sees:

The legend acting like an idiot and getting his butt kicked. Very dignified. 

This is Brad’s reaction:

“Is that your great legend?! Huh?!” “What a relief! He hasn’t changed at all.” (A relief? What were they afraid would have happened to him?)

Brad is not amused by Wolfwood’s touchy-feely ways.

“Who’s he?” Vash, looking embarrassed: “I’m not sure.” Fair enough, but not very helpful, and Wolfwood doesn’t elaborate. We already know and love Vash’s embarrassed grin, but I can’t get over Wolfwood’s almost sinister smile in the mirror. 

A cute moment where Vash looks back like, “isn’t my place great?” and Wolfwood just gapes like an idiot. (Close your mouth, my dude. Flies are gonna get in). 

Vash last visited about 20 years ago, and Jessica was a small child then, so she should be about 23 or 24. However, she looks and acts like a teenager. Vash inadvertently becomes part of an unwanted love triangle.

To his credit, Vash tries to put her off, in a joking way (”I have a reputation for being easy but even I need a bit of advance warning”). Wolfwood makes the whole situation worse by teasing Vash about his “girlfriend” in front of a fuming Brad. It’s as if he were going out of his way to antagonize the people on the ship.

When Vash actually has a chance to look at Jessica’s face, he remembers her. Think about that. He may only have met her once, it’s been 20 years, and he still recognizes her and remembers her name. How many other people does he remember from the past ~130 years? This is how he uses his powerful plant brain--Knives would view it as a waste.

Jessica cooks a feast for Vash, which, tragically, he won’t get to enjoy. How did she cook all this food so fast? It’s enough to feed the whole ship.

***

Wolfwood is mistrusted for the wrong reasons

Wolfwood actually takes off his shades and armor of acting like a jerk while introducing himself to Jessica. This is unusually open and vulnerable of him. He actually is trying to behave. But Brad, worried about “a bunch of outsiders” bringing war to their flying paradise, hits him where it hurts.  

...Did I mention Wolfwood has beautiful eyes?

Anyway, everyone gathers around staring at Wolfwood from a distance, while he drops cigarettes on the ground. There’s an entire pile lying at his feet. The whole scene is the definition of passive aggressive. 

What seems to anger Wolfwood is not so much how they treat him personally, but their denial combined with moral superiority. Not to push a metaphor too far, but these folks are able to take the moral high horse because their literal high position keeps them safe. Yet, they use this immense privilege not to help the world below, or to prepare for the ship’s inevitable fall, but to hide in their castle in the sky. It clicks for me that Wolfwood probably feels about running away the way Vash does about suicide (think back to episode 11). 

The SEEDS dwellers do not seem to understand that Wolfwood is both trying to help them and a little resentful of what they have. To them, he is everything they’ve been taught to fear and hate, up here poisoning Paradise for them with his unpleasant ideas. Of course this sort of dynamic never happens in real life.

Also, keep in mind that none of them know anything about the people below directly, only from hearsay. They’re not wrong about Gunsmoke as a whole, but they treat Wolfwood like a monster rather than a person.  That also never happens in real life.

Then he gets to the scene of a crime too late--but just in time to look like the one responsible. Although the ship dwellers would love to see him dead, he leaps to defend them against his own colleague. Knowing, perhaps, that doing this would confirm he switched sides, and his own days might be numbered. He doesn’t even pause to think, he just goes, the same way he did when the child went missing in episode 9.

***

Vash Will Save The Day

“Like you care. Five years is probably like a blink of the eye to you anyway.” Vash denies it, but the second part is probably true. He looks so surprised to hear it’s been five years.

It can’t be easy for Vash to admit that he was responsible for the “Fifth Moon Incident,” and is probably more dangerous than Knives. Once again, his only argument is “please.” But there’s no buffoonery or melodrama here. He’s dead serious, and that’s more convincing. 

Wolfwood tries to stop Leonoff from saying his name. No one who would understand the significance or matters to him is present, just Brad and Jessica. Is he merely afraid others will hear? Does he still consider himself to be Chapel?

Even facing Leonoff, Wolfwood still hasn’t put his shades back on.

Now imagine if Vash managed to find ways out of no-win situations and save the day without all the whining and crying.

Wolfwood can pause and wait for once, having faith that Vash will show up. He knows there’s always a third option for Vash. He does not yet see any for himself. Still, progress nonetheless.

***

Unfortunately for me, Vash is back with his red coat in Vash the Stampede mode, yellow glasses hiding his face.

OK, I can see how Leonoff’s puppets get into the ship without being noticed, but how on Earth did the big guy even get here?

[smhalltheurlsaretaken]

Birthday prompt #8

(I have been posting these for so long now :’) my fingers and my brain are no longer connected. I need to sleep xD)

Read on Ao3 Birthday prompts masterlist

@xandiland

[Now that they’ve reunited with Elnor, who’s missed many of the events of the past few episodes, I’d like to see Elnor’s perspective on how the others approach Rios. Would he be disappointed in Picard for his brusqueness? Concerned that nobody else seems to see the pain he’s seeing? Who knows? But I think hyper-honest Elnor wouldn’t hold back in his assessment of the others’ failures and might finally get our boy Rios the caring and respect he so deserves.]

Elnor is overjoyed that Picard is no longer dead.

He would hold him and never let go if he could, but Picard isn’t very fond of hugs – a great pity – and Elnor himself is not entirely comfortable around him yet, and Picard is uncomfortable too since Elnor has told him that. Raffi and Soji and Doctor Jurati take all of Picard’s time anyway, so Elnor slips away one morning and goes to where la Sirena should be.

He thinks Seven might be there, and he hasn’t seen Captain Rios in a while now, and he misses both of them.

When he arrives at the charred spot where the ship initially crash-landed, he is surprised to see that there is nothing there. Why? Elnor wonders, anxiety coalescing in his chest into a mean jadashha that snaps and bite at his innards. Surely Captain Rios wouldn’t leave without saying goodbye? He wouldn’t leave Raffi, that is unthinkable.

But then Elnor remembers than Picard and Doctor Jurati used the ship to stop the Zhat Vash, and that they beamed down and left it up there. Nobody must have brought it back to the surface. Elnor goes back to the city and looks for Raffi, because she should know where Rios is.

He doesn’t find Raffi, but he finds Soji in a courtyard, angrily staring at her communicator. He doesn’t know Soji well, but he knows that Picard cares about her – that he died for her, which makes Elnor feel all kinds of sad and funny when he thinks about it – so she must be alright. She is Data’s daughter, and Elnor loved the stories about Data when he was a child.

“Soji,” he greets. He notices the pile of communicators next to her and the neural-enhanced portable replicator she is holding, and he frowns. “Do you have a problem with your communicator?”

“Yes,” she snaps, “how did you guess?”

Elnor is a bit taken aback, but he quickly understands the problem.

“You are frustrated, and you are not yet accustomed to the way of Absolute Candor, adding to your irritation. If you wish me to leave, I will go.”

Soji holds up a hand and beckons him closer, the “hold on” implied by her gestures. He approaches and studies the communicator she is holding. It does not appear broken, and the others don’t either. Elnor is puzzled.

“I do not understand, they appear to be functioning.”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” Soji sighs. She holds up the device for him to see. “It works well for on-planet communication, but I can’t seem to get a hold of Rios.”

Elnor perks up.

“You wish to speak to Captain Rios? I was looking for him, I haven’t seen him in several days. Or Seven.”

Soji hands him the comm badge and starts fiddling with another one.

“You are growing increasingly agitated,” Elnor notices. Out of curiosity, he taps on the badge himself and raises it to his mouth. “Hello, Captain Rios, this is Elnor. Can you hear me?”

Silence answers him, and Soji gives him a strange look. It might have been meant to convey “told you so,” but Elnor is not yet entirely familiar with Human facial expressions. They can slightly differ from Romulan ones, and there was no need for face reading among the Qowat Milat. He tilts his head and waits for her to stop trying to get the other badge to work, studying her in the meantime.

“Rios, come in,” she says curtly in the device. “I need to beam up.”

“You do not appear to be eager to speak to Captain Rios,” Elnor points out, confused. “You are angry and short-tempered, when there is no actual reason for you to be. What is the real cause of your frustration?”

Soji huffs and crosses her arms, and looks heavenwards.

“Nothing too important. I’m just… I just thought I would get away from the city a little bit, now that things are settling. I just want to spend a day and a night up there and come back.”

Elnor nods in understanding. He looks at the communicator again, just as Doctor Soong strides into view. Elnor doesn’t like Doctor Soong. He has already told him once and been informed by Picard and Raffi that it was not an appropriate thing to say, but now Doctor Soong knows and the dislike is mutual. The time for hostilities is past, though, so Elnor nods politely when the man walks to them.

“Soji, Elnor,” Doctor Soong greets, studying the communicator pile with the same interest as Elnor has previously displayed. “What are you doing?”

“Trying to call Captain Rios,” Soji explains, tossing one of the badges at Doctor Soong. “Is there a disruption in the planetary tachyon field? None of these seem to work.”

Doctor Soong frowns and checks something on a very small portable holo-transmitter he had in his pocket, frowning at the green floating screen. Elnor doesn’t know what the readings mean, so he waits.

“Well,” Doctor Soong says after a minute, “there is no disruption at all, and your badges are working just fine. Either the ship is experiencing a malfunction, or Captain Rios is ignoring you.”

The jadashha is back, gnawing at Elnor’s stomach. Captain Rios doesn’t ignore people. He listens, even if you are a despicable Zhat Vash assassin, and he talks, even if you are a very angry xB about to murder an old acquaintance.

“That would not be like him,” Elnor protests.

Soji makes a face.

“He hid in his quarters for a while when I got aboard la Sirena. Maybe he just wants some peace and quiet.”

“I do not believe that,” Elnor protests. And because he is now worried about Captain Rios and Seven of Nine, who is probably up there with him, he picks up one of the badges again and tries one more time. “Captain Rios? This is Elnor. I feel anxious because you do not answer our messages, and I would like to see you and Seven, to alleviate my worry. May I come aboard?”

Elnor dissolves away before Soji and Soong have had any time to call his endeavor pointless. He materializes on la Sirena’s transporter pad, of course, and Captain Rios gives him a two-fingered salute. Elnor copies it, and moves to hug him.

“It fills my heart with joy to see that you are alright,” he says as he folds the Captain into an embrace.

Rios laughs – it makes his chest rumble, and it’s a very peculiar feeling that Elnor likes – and he hugs Elnor back before gently pushing him away.

“Hey there, hermanito,” Rios grins. “Seven’s fine too, before you ask. I think she’s in the sonic. Or on the holodeck, I don’t know.”

Elnor nods and studies Rios, and he is disheartened by what he sees. The Captain looks tired and he has red eyes, like Humans get when they have not slept enough. He thinks it might be to make themselves more intimidating to compensate for their temporary weakness. Romulans do not get green eyes, so he cannot be sure. Elnor has seen the red eyes on Raffi, on Agnes, on Seven too, and even on Picard, but Captain Rios’ red eyes are worse. He must be feeling very weak.

“You are exhausted,” Elnor says. “I do not understand. We have won. Picard is alive. Are you not happy? Why are you neglecting to rest?”

Captain Rios stiffens like Elnor has just hit him. They stare into each other’s eyes for a long while, Elnor unblinking returning Rios’ scrutinizing gaze, and then Captain Rios sighs tiredly and motions Elnor to follow. They go to the bridge, and Captain Rios sits in his chair, leaning heavily against the back.

“It’s not that I don’t want to, kid,” Rios mutters, rubbing at his face. “I just… I just can’t right now. I don’t see pretty pictures when I close my eyes.”

“Is that why you were ignoring Soji’s calls? Because you did not wish for anyone to see that you are tired?” Elnor inquires. But wait, it does not make sense. “But Seven is there.”

Rios huffs.

“It’s not like that. I just don’t want to see people right now, especially not Picard or Soji.”

That confuses Elnor, but he decides to go back to that in a minute, once he has dealt with another puzzling aspect of Rios’ explanation.

“You are seeing me,” he says, sitting on the console so he can face Rios. “I am not people?”

Rios snorts.

“You asked, kid. And you were worried about Seven and me. I’m just not too keen on letting them touch my stuff right now.”

Elnor carefully reviews what he has gathered of Rios’ relationship with Picard and Soji. He remembers that Rios was crying too when Picard died, and that he came to find him and Raffi when they were both sobbing, alone. Elnor remembers what Raffi told him later, that Rios’ Captain died and that it involved Jana, a girl that looked just like Soji and Sutra. He remembers that Soji had only good things to say about Captain Rios, and that he’d accepted to let his ship go through a Borg conduit to reach Coppelius faster despite the damage it could cause to his home.

Elnor tries, and tries, and tries, but he doesn’t understand why Rios would not wish to see Soji. Picard, Elnor can understand, because things are confusing and awkward and even he cannot seem to know how to act when he usually never bothers thinking about it. But Soji?

“I do not understand,” Elnor states.

Rios huffs and tilts his head back.

“I just want to be alone, Elnor,” he says.

“That is a half-truth.”

“Mierda, you’re annoying,” Rios smiles. It’s a small smile and it’s tired, but it counts. “Okay, here’s the thing. I wouldn’t mind letting them come aboard if they asked, like you did. Soji hasn’t so far. She’s just told me she needed to be beamed up.” He takes in a deep breath. “La Sirena is my ship, kid. My home.”

“This is distressing to hear,” Elnor says sadly, mouth twisting into a little pout. “But if you told everyone how you feel, then they would ask.”

Rios frowns.

“Maybe I don’t do that because I’d like them to figure it out by themselves. I want them to get it.”

Elnor nods and got up. Captain Rios looks surprised to see him go, but Elnor has things to attend to.

“I will be back shortly,” he assures him, striding to the transporter buffet. “Please tell Seven I came by.”

“Sure thing, hermano,” Captain Rios says back.

Elnor teleports to the surface before any questions can be asked.

“Elnor!” Soji exclaims as she watched him reappear. “Are they alright? Why did he beam you up?”

“Because I asked,” Elnor answered curtly, brushing past her.

He needs to find Raffi.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“I believe that your behavior has been unsatisfactory,” Elnor tells Picard in lieu of a greeting, earning himself a confused look and a raised eyebrow.

Picard does not believe he will ever get used to the way of Absolute Candor. But blunt as it always is, he has rarely heard Elnor speaks to him so harshly. It reminds him of Vashti, when fourteen years of pent-up feelings of rejection and bitterness were suddenly free to overflow, and Picard does not like it in the slightest.

“What are you talking about, Elnor?”

“I am talking about you and, and Soji. Raffi has told me much of what happened on the ship during my absence. It has made me very upset, and I am angered as well.”

Picard sits back in his seat and frowned, waiting for Elnor to elaborate. It might all just be a misunderstanding, or so he hopes. After the resolution of the threat to both the galaxy and the synthetics, and his own death and resurrection, Picard is far too tired to engage in more conflict.

“Explain to me what this is about before this conversation goes any further,” Picard requests.

“Captain Rios was very hurt by your words and actions when you and Soji came back from Nepenthe, and I do not believe you ever apologized.”

That’s unexpected. Picard frowns, trying to recall what he could have done to deserve the scathing rebuke.

“You yelled at him,” Elnor informs him before before he can wrestle with his memory any further. “Soji hacked his ship and tried to steal it. You mutinied. Those were not honorable actions.”

Ah. Picard can understand why Elnor would see it that way. It’s a good thing Rios doesn’t. Clearly, this is a case of miscommunication, like he hoped.

“Elnor, Rios agreed to bring us to Coppelius. There was no ‘mutiny’ and no hijacking.”

Elnor stares at him intently, and then shakes his head. Picard sees his eyes narrow. He doesn’t understand why right away, but he has the feeling that Elnor is somehow terribly disappointed.

“You sat in his chair,” Elnor counters. “You tried taking control of his ship. Soji used the name of a dead person from his past to get him to say yes. I fail to see how you do not grasp the extent of your disregard for Captain Rios’ feelings.”

Picard would like to argue, say that Rios really didn’t mind, but the truth is that he can’t be sure. They were all under severe amounts of stress after the Cube and Nepenthe. It is possible that in his own eagerness to help Soji, he failed to see Rios’ own struggles with the situation. It would certainly be in character for him, at any rate.

“Captain Rios agreed to take you to Coppelius because he is nice,” Elnor deems important to add. “You needed help and he could give it. That’s not a reason not to ask.”

Elnor is gone before Picard can think of an answer. He sighs.

“Soji,” he calls into his communicator, “could I see you for a moment? I think we need to give Rios a call.”

[thehumcntyphccn]

" I can't say I'm that surprised. I tend to attract the worst, huh? "

Vash muses it to himself as his eyes have long since fallen to the ground, simply parroting off of the thoughts of the other. Truly he couldn't imagine - the types of troubles the ex-assassin alone found himself in by keeping anyone sniffing out Wolfwood and his own scent from following close behind. It was surely a hefty chore; one that Vash admired and was more than thankful for.. Yet, couldn't help but feel every inch of clenched guilt tear at him at just the thought.

" Thank you. Again. "

Yet. When was it never like this?

His seafoaming eyes drag against the floor as if afraid to meet Livio's, especially at the blatantly-true revelation of how disastrous of a trio they surely would be. They would be worse than a gang of bounty hunters - somehow even worse than they already were, traveling as just a duo. If it was the three of them, their entire companionship would feel as if the world itself was out to get their hides; not one person would dare to accept help from three grim reapers.

And it truly never would matter what any of them wanted. Yet.

" I.. I can't lie to him, Livio. I'm sorry. "

He can't even reach for the rosary as it is offered, his hues climbing finally to the other male as the sweetness of a thriving rose is replaced with the heartbreak of a wilting one. Vash hangs his gaze on the crucifix necklace before his brows scrunch and a sadness paints the blue in his eyes.

" He deserves a peace of mind. More than anything. But I can't let him believe you are dead, and I can't lie to him. I've seen how he cares about you, and it would devastate him if he believed you were completely gone. He probably would see right through me, even if I did lie. I can't hurt him like that. He's been hurt enough by me, and by what has happened to you. But. I can give it to him. I can do that. "

There is a pause, a long breath before he more gently speaks from the near-bite his tone had become. There was just hurt in his eyes, a genuine pain seeing two brothers be torn apart again in such an agonistic way. It felt familiar - but in the wrong way. A way he himself never once was able to experience.

" I don't mean to disrespect you. Or what you want. But I can't lie to him any more, Livio. I know you understand that. "

"You're lucky i'm good at my job." Livio snorted ever so slightly as he fixed his blazer jacket neatly over his chest. ''It's been a pain to keep them off your scent. You have a knack at attracting some of the worst men this side of the planet." The young agent shook his head. It wasn't just his brother this kid kept on their toes.

And of course he'd disagree. He wasn't even shocked. ''You know him well I see...he must really like you. That or you already know the depths of his heart. Not many men can say that." The assassin crossed his arms.

"Still it's not about what we want. Him or I...its about the safety of you and yours and those simply in your vicinity. Be it if you like it or not, trouble follows you...and now me. If I so happen to be convince by my brother to join your merry crew, we three will surely be an omen to any poor town we wonder in. The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few. As much as I love my brother and wish too see him again I can't afford to put more people in danger."

"I'm content watching you all from the shadows where I can atleast cause little to no harm. But...if you must ease his mind....here." After a long moment of debate, Livio tugged on his zipper turtle neck, pulling it down just enough to show off his neck and pale collar bone. Barley visible was a black and silver beaded chain with a lone metallic silver cross that hung on the loop. It was a simple rosary. After a moment he took it off an held it out for Vash, offering it out as tribute.

"We members of the Eye all have one. Consider them like a soldier does their dog tags. Each one is different to it's holder. This one is mine, he'll know it well. Simply tell him you found it in the desert and that he should hold onto it as a keepsake. Normally when we pass these go to the next of kin anyways. I pray it will bring him peace. And though I cannot be there for him physically. So long as he has this we will never be apart again."

[worldcakecakecake]

Good Luck Friedrich

A series of video diaries by Isabella Beilschmidt for her baby brother, Friedrich, where she details and explains the lives of their hectic family.

I just noticed the last chapter for this story was posted...last year. I...am so sorry! As always, many things and I apologize once again. Please know I write on this story when I can and I shall continue to update...it just might take...several months. Never the less, I hope you enjoy this chapter!

                                                    Video 5.3

Feliciano’s pregnancies were now routine. In fact, Ludwig used what was Isabella’s pregnancy scheduling for this new baby. Sure, the usual horrible cravings, vomiting, pains and difficulties, but other beauties that made Feliciano shine as he usually did when he carried a new child.

 It was with spring ending, Feliciano’s bump beginning to be shown more clearly, did they gather the children in the living room and told them the news. Heinrich and Alessandro were indifferent, in fact, they just gazed to their parents like they had just told them to go up and clean their room and continued on with their handheld video games. Analise and Isabella on the other hand, jumped and celebrated, hugging Feliciano so tightly, caressing and always asking for a touch and feel of his bump. For this pregnancy, they tried what they could to spend time with Feliciano, helping him in harsh circumstances, with millions and millions of questions about their new coming sibling. They constantly asked for a sister, already imagining and plotting all the games they could play and all the things they could dress her up in. Although in their throws Ludwig had asked for a boy, he really did not mind the gender and would be just as excited and proud for a girl. Sadly, for Analiese and Isabella, Feliciano returned one day from his sonogram showing an alpha male. The girls had pouted and had even been angry, making the elder twin brothers laugh, clapping their hands in celebration for another boy in the family. Feliciano promised them that they would still be able to do all the fun things they had planned.

 Upon finding out its gender, came the time to think of fitting names, to which Feliciano had been insisting on calling it either Ludwig or even Ludovico.

 “No,” Ludwig was reluctant.

 “Why not?” Feliciano pouted.

 “I don’t want my name to be repeated in the household. Ludovico sounds too old fashioned and it doesn’t ring as a perfect name. Also…I don’t like the idea of you calling someone else ‘Luddy’”

 “Mio dio, Ludwig, this is your son were talking about.”

 “Still…I’m the only you should call Luddy.”

 Feliciano laughed against his chest, wrapping his arms more strongly around him. “No one can replace you, amore,” Feliciano assured.

 “Actually, yes, my children are perfectly capable of replacing me.”

 Feliciano rolled his eyes, landing a playful hit on his shoulder. “I love you all equally but differently, as this baby.” He rubbed his stomach as for emphasis.

 “I hope he doesn’t end up dethroning me.”

 “Dethroning you?”

 “I think I’m still in Analiese’s game.”

 “Our daughter is pretending to dethrone people?”

 “Things get pretty intense in her tea parties.”

 “When I’m playing, all we ever do is talk about peace and treaties.”

 “…I do solve things by just waging another war.”

 “There’s your problem then,” Feliciano laughed.

 Silence then settled, just wanting to relax, staring to the ceiling, waiting for sleep to take and get them to rest.

 “I really want to name him Ludwig,” Feliciano was still sure.

 Ludwig sighed, slowly having to accept, wanting anything to please his mate. “I don’t know but…I guess…we still have some time left before he’s scheduled to come.” And suddenly Ludwig was pensive, his mind surely on worries, Feliciano had learn to tell.

 “Do you have a name in mind?” He wondered.

 “Aldrich,” Ludwig readily said, bringing Feliciano to a tense, his caresses stopping, nervous and fretting.

 “I knew you wouldn’t want to.”

 “No, no, no, I think it’s a very pretty name and having a son with it would be very lovely…it’s just that…”

 “The person it reminds you of…I know,” he sighed.

 “Well…Isabella is Isabella Augusta…I think it’s fair…but…can I ask why?” Feliciano truly wondered. He looked up to his mate expecting, but Ludwig remained still as if he hadn’t heard the question. “Ludwig…” he poked him playfully on the cheek, but Ludwig continued as reluctant. Feliciano sighed, “it’s about what’s going on back in Germany…isn’t it?” He guessed as much.

 Ludwig had recently gotten a lot of calls from his brother and the rest of his cousins, always something that had Ludwig tired and deflected, taking sitting and not standing for several minutes until one of his kids asked for help in homework or just wanted him to join a pretend game.

 “Ludwig…despite everything…you know you can tell me,” he soothingly let his fingers traverse across his stomach, laying sweetly against his chest, looking up to him, showing that very trust that Ludwig had so long ago placed entirely on.

 He sighed, defeated then on saying it. “Opa…he’s…not doing well.” There was already an unmistakable hurt on his tone, his own soothing touches faltering.

 “How…how so?” Feliciano made sure to thread carefully, not wanting to upset or hurt him much.

 “Lowering defenses, his body is not accepting the medicine they’re giving him, so there’s nothing stopping the deteriorating of his body.” Feliciano felt him grip his hands underneath their hold.

 “He’s dying, Feliciano…he’s dying…” was a harshness that he had to admit, had to release, a shivering in his tone that was rare for Feliciano to hear.

 “The doctors are saying that they give him only a couple of months…he might be gone by November…around the time that this baby will be born.” Eyes watered, eyes gazing to the ceiling, trying hard to not let himself so much pain, but Feliciano welcomed it, running his hands gently over him, still willing to continue to listen and let Ludwig this outing.

 “He’ll never get to meet him…he’ll never get to see any of our kids, he will never see this house that I worked so hard on, he won’t see what an amazing mate you have been, he won’t see how I grew…I won’t see him…I won’t be able to go to Germany, I can’t be with my family for this and all because I…because I…” the tears by now were shed well across his face, Feliciano leaning more into him, now with soothing hums and continuing the gentle caress that was enough for Ludwig to not fret the more.

 “I was supposed to be the heir, I was the symbol of the next generation of Beilschmidts. Opa held me so high and I…ended up doing what I did,” he let himself sob, his grip now tighter, leaning more into Feliciano for that sooth.

 “…I’m sorry…” Feliciano whispered, the same tears now arising in his eyes, always a destroy to see his mate like this. “I know…I know it was because you ended up choosing me and now…I’m so sorry…I’m so sorry that I’m making you feel like this, I’m so sorry that you had to miss your last years with your grandfather and that you lost…so, so, so much…”

 They held each other tight, so much Ludwig wanted to say against, but in his given to this sorrow, he couldn’t even manage speaking properly in that instant.

 “I love you, I love you. I’ve told you many times I would choose you even knowing this outcome…I just wish…he would have been more accepting to our family…and we didn’t have to hurt each other this way now.” By now Ludwig had fully turned to Feliciano, wrapping himself around him, his anchor, his relief and happiness never the less. “…I just wanted him to accept us…”

 Ludwig ran out of words, the sorrow making him too tired to speak or give out more emotion. Feliciano understood, finally letting him that silence, simply laying his arms around him, soothing, starting the hum of a melody under his breath. Every now and then he would place gentle kisses, just the right magic to bring him into rest, if even the dried tears on his cheeks that Feliciano remained awake for, as if guarding they wouldn’t come back.

  The baby was born a cold November 9, in the midst of the trees taking beautiful oranges and brown, everyone cozy in their autumn wear and this new baby was no exception. Feliciano held him tight, giving his own warmth to him, not having stopped laying kisses on his little head, covered in a beautiful puppy beanie, an orange blanket wrapped around him, calming him as to not fret, cry, resting, knowing it was safe in its omega father’s arms.

 “He looks exactly like Ludwig did as a baby. I’m going to cry when I get to hold him. I’ll visit sometime next month!” Gilbert told them over the phone from Germany after Ludwig had sent some pictures.

 Ludwig smiled, of course not leaving Feliciano’s side, taking constant and proud glances to his new son, so like him and already as dear as the rest of his children. They were currently back at home with Vash and Lili, Ludwig getting constant calls from them, mostly the kids wanting to know when they could come see their new brother, agitated, excited and begging.

 “Have you decided on a name yet?” The nurse had come and each time, Ludwig and Feliciano were unsure, always asking for more time that they were respectful to give.

 Upon the next morning, as soon as Feliciano had the baby returned, Ludwig had received a rather odd message:

 ‘Can you send me some new pics of the baby and some of the others too’ Gilbert had texted.

 ‘Why?’ Ludwig texted back.

 ‘Opa wants to see them.’

 Ludwig had faltered, had weakened, the surreal so strong he thought he was going to let his phone fall.

 ‘Sure.’ He simply texted back.

 “Lieben, do you have any pics of the kids in your phone?” He suddenly asked him, Feliciano playing with the baby boy, awake, curiously looking about the room and whatever games Feliciano presented.

 “Oh! Yes! I have several! My phone is in the pink bag. How come?”

 “Um…Gilbert wants some to…show Opa.”

 There was a large glow of surprise in Feliciano’s eyes, yet quick, before he smiled in acceptance. “Send all you want, and don’t be afraid to take new ones of our little prince,” Feliciano coed as he brought the baby closer, Ludwig smiling as he went to get the phone.

 He did so hurriedly, getting together a large file of pictures, ranging from some as Alessandro and Heinrich as babies, Analiese starting kindergarten, Isabella making some arts and craft, and of course, simple ones of this new nameless addition, cuddled, sleeping, only slight movement added as it seemed to reach for more of its omega father.

 ‘Dammit, Lud! My phone shut off!’ Gilbert had texted back at such a large amount of pictures, but afterwards, there was no reply, the thread in silence no matter how many times Ludwig checked. When he wasn’t on his phone, he was watching over his mate and new child, sometimes holding the infant himself while he chatted with Feliciano, other times joining in the coos and games, resting his head on Feliciano’s shoulder, even kissing him from time to time.

 Many hours later, the late evening about to reach them, Ludwig received a call from Gilbert. He stood and took it at the other side of the room. For a long moment there was only but silence, Gilbert heavily breathing, clearly hurt and broken.

 “He’s gone,” he finally admitted, a large inhale and surely a hand coming up to dry whatever tears dared fall.

 Ludwig turned rigid, in its process like a cracking, something that Feliciano noticed even from afar.

 “Just a…couple of minutes ago actually. I, with oma, mutti, onkel Marcellus, onkel Karl, and Roderich were with him…he asked about you, I…told him how you were doing, showed him all the pics you sent me…he…wanted me to talk about them, and I did, Roderich helped me out as well. We told him about how Alessandro plays football and Heinrich plays music, that they annoy each other like Roderich and I used to do as kids,” he stopped for a moment to laugh. “I told him about Analiese’s tea parties, how she likes to dress up and her crazy story ideas. I told him that Isabella is really smart, that she started walking and talking earlier than other kids, how she fixes things and packs a strong punch,” he laughed again, rubbing his arm as if he could still feel her little attack the last time he saw her…all because he said he was leaving without giving her a hug.

 “Over our…new cutie,” Gilbert still could manage a smile, “we really couldn’t say much, of course, but I showed him all the pictures you sent.”

 Longing silence as Gilbert still found it hard to speak, still needing time to gather words.

 “He didn’t stop smiling the entire time we told him about how you guys were doing. I told him about the house, how you live in this beautiful Swiss valley and how you’re still madly in love with Feliciano and Feliciano with you…he said he could tell with all the kids you’re having.”

 Even Ludwig had to chuckle, trying to find a holding that wouldn’t let him fall in utter melancholy.

 “He told me the cutie looked a lot like you did…that he’s beautiful, that they’re all beautiful…that it would have been an honor to have met them…and that he’s sorry.”

 Ludwig had to try hard to grip himself, to not sob in this call when it was important that he listened.

 “He said…he should have learn to accept your decision long ago, that he shouldn’t have been blinded by pride and left you to deal with everything by yourself…that he should have been there to help, to see his great grandkids and give his blessings to your mate…I just wish he could have told this to you in person, and that you could still be allowed back in Germany…I still don’t think it’s fair enough.”

 “It is to me,” Ludwig broke, in a rare sob that tumbled his tall build, shaking and reddened. Gilbert didn’t know what words to answer, but only hummed and soothed like in their childhood, caressing enough for Ludwig, who understood the distance currently. Even if all Gilbert heard were sobs and breaths, he remained to listen to it all and give whatever comforting word he could.

 Feliciano stood, the baby boy being held well in his arms, being able to push his IVs with one hand occupied, sitting down beside Ludwig, cuddling, letting their new son lay between them, Ludwig, in between all, managing a strong hold to join Feliciano’s.

 “Luddy, I’m sorry, but I have to go now. The doctors are asking for stuff. I’ll call you back in a moment. I’ll be here, I’ll be here. Stay with Feliciano and your son.” And the call was over, Ludwig letting the phone fall uselessly to the ground.

 Feliciano wrapped around him, kissing his head and letting him show his emotions as freely as he wanted, letting him the complete hold of the infant, so small in his big strong arms, yet protected, belonging, his little light in this moment of darkness. Ludwig showed his gratitude by rocking him, kissing him constantly, Feliciano managing to smile.

 A nurse had entered, clipboard in her hand which signified to both parents what she was coming for. “Oh…” she noticed Ludwig’s broken state. “I…came to ask if you had decided on a name yet, but I’ll head out and you can call us when you are decided.”

 “Aldrich,” Feliciano declared despite.

 It was surprising to both the nurse and Ludwig, the blond raising his head, for a singular moment the tears stopping and relaxation clear.

 “Aldrich Ludwig Beilschmidt, please, if you can,” Feliciano insisted

 “Of course!” The nurse smiled, writing it in the documents and officiating. She showed it to both the parents to make sure it was written correctly, and once she had their approval, she nodded and headed off to pass it to where it was necessary.

 The parents were once again alone, still together, the baby still resting peacefully, but this time, as the tears continued, a smile managed to shine strong on Ludwig’s mouth, one Feliciano swooned at, kissing and caressing it.

 “Aldrich,” Feliciano repeated in earnest, kissing the little boy’s head now as if to truly bless him with the name. Ludwig did his own by holding him ever tighter.

  Despite not being so excited the first time they were told the news, Alessandro and Heinrich looked completely ecstatic in the picture of the day they came to pick up Aldrich. Analiese and Isabella were just as excited, the four of them holding together the baby right in front of the hospital. There was another picture taken of Aldrich around the time he was one year old, dressed like an angel in a professional setting, a confused expression on his face, surely wondering his surroundings at the time. Isabella had remembered how proud Feliciano had been to send that picture to their uncles and aunts for that Christmas, along with one of Alessandro and Heinrich dressed elegantly in star theme suits, Analiese as one of the three kings, and then Isabella…who had decided on being a stable animal, a donkey more specifically. At the time she had been so excited and had even fought her papa to do so, but now looking back…perhaps it wasn’t the best choice. She did look cute though.

 “See, it wouldn’t be that difficult for us. We can all go!” Isabella switched the camera to Aldrich just as he had finished, all the books and articles he had printed from a kids’ site spread across the table, all having been used well in his explanation to his alpha father, sitting in the chair alongside him, covering his mouth to hide how he wanted to burst with loud laughter at the childishness but beauty of it all.

 Ludwig had to really swallow it before he could remove his hands, his head coming to a conclusion with easy logic. “So, you really think it can take all nine of us?”

 “Mhm! There’s space in the boats, planes and tents we have to stay in.”

 “So do you think they can also fit our bags? The strollers? Snacks? Toys?”

 “We don’t need to bring our toys!”

 “So will you finally leave Bastian behind?”

 One of Aldrich’s adored dog dolls, that still at nine years old was difficult for him to go anywhere without. There was a clear hesitation, silence as he thought it, going through the files as if they could give him an answer that could approve his plush friend’s coming.

 “Those zoo cookies you really like are only available in Switzerland, and knowing you all, you’ll finish whatever bags we’ll bring in the first few days before we even arrive to Russia. Your papa won’t be able to make you stracciatella. We’ll have to get you all new coats-”

 “It won’t be that cold! We’ve lived in the Swiss alps for years and can deal with it.”

 “Aldrich, this is Russia, really north Russia. It get’s colder than our own blizzards.”

 Aldrich already shivered, but a part of him continued to be strong, continued to believe.

 “We’ll have to leave the dogs behind with a caretake. No, we won’t be able to bring any of them with us. You fight every time Isabella or Giovanna go into your room. In these tents, you’ll have to share an entire space with all of us. If Friedrich starts crying, you’ll hear it clearly for the entire night and there will be a lot of it. There’s a great chance the walruses won’t even be there, so we could be wasting hard days of travel.”

 It was starting to seem hopeless, Aldrich falling more into his chair with each word.

 “Aldrich, they have walruses in the Zurich zoo. We can plan a weekend to go there and even invite Alisa to come with us. I promise you it would be much easier and enjoyable for all of us,” Ludwig tried to persuade, but Aldrich yet remained sunken in his chair.

 “I wanted to see…in their natural habitat,” his tone became much more tragic, a welling of tears.

 “Aldrich, I already tried explaining, it-” The little boy was wailing by now, hands gripping, then smashing his head against the table. His cries began a crescendo each minute, Ludwig plainly sitting, nodding, letting Aldrich release what he needed to. After seven kids, he had learned well to deal with this. He was prepared to sit there until Aldrich stopped, gazing forward to Isabella with the camera hoping for some sort of aid.

 The last shot was of Isabella running off before he could word out anything.

< Video 5.2

video 6 >

[ofgoodconscience]

jean-luc’s romantic endeavors analyzed... because... reasons...

my boy really keeps getting the short end of the stick when it comes to relationships, both in canon and in rp. so.... here’s a comprehensive break down of why every relationship he’s been in has been doomed to fail.

the common link between all of them, mostly? he’s a starship captain, and that leaves little room for dating. but what exactly has gone wrong in each one?

featuring: beverly, vash, q, will, ford, and tom

CANON

beverly crusher picard’s crush for YEARS. he met her through her husband (his best friend), so there was never any chance of anything happened there. but he was in love with her forever basically. and after jack died, he continued to be, but even after she moved on and started seeing other people, picard always kept his distance. and once she began serving under him on the enterprise, it just didn’t feel like the right time. we see in all good things that in an alternate timeline they were married.... and divorced, not on great terms. so uh... yeah. never going to work out.

vash I would say picard was probably in love with vash. he’s the sort of person who falls in love quite easily -- but he’s slow to take action, or admit it, or push a relationship further or faster than it’s going. he keeps his feelings bottled up, and I think that’s what really ended his relationship with vash. she wasn’t happy that he seemed unwilling to make her an important part of his life (ie he didn’t tell anyone about her, despite the fact that he had strong feelings for her). and besides that, their friendship (which was perhaps even stronger than anything romantic or sexual between them) was moulded around their love of adventuring. not on a starship, but on planets, in caves, living dangerously. and in another life, he would love to do that, but not this life. and she certainly wasn’t going to stay there with him. so when q offered her what she wanted, she took it, and he never saw her again. feelings aside, she was gone.

others we see picard with a few other women in canon, but they all end either because he has to leave, or she has to leave, or his duty as captain gets in the way so they have to break up, or they can’t handle the distance... it’s the same shit.

RP

Q starting with the obvious. I’ve written with a lot of of Qs, and those relationships vary from muse to muse, but generally, it boils down to a power imbalance. Q is omnipotent, and though he would give the world to jean-luc in almost every case, he’s rarely willing to accept it. Q has other responsibilities in the universe. he would never be able to stay on the ship permanently, and picard’s crew would be unlikely to accept him. if they did, starfleet would never. that relationship could never be public. marriage, if either of them wanted it, would be out of the question. and of course, eventually picard will die. Q will try to stop it, but he wouldn’t want to live forever. the relationship is already so tragic in that way. and that’s if Q’s feelings even manifest into a relationship, or if it just stays obsessive and possessive, while picard pines but never achieves anything of substance.

Will Riker ah, another doomed-from-the-start relationship. let me preface this by saying there is NO ONE in any world, real or fictional, more textbook in love than jean-luc picard and william t riker. they adore each other, they are OBSESSED with each other, and i know it’s not gay in canon but like in every fucking scene where one of them looks at the other... that expression is love!!!!! like holy shit. they’re like damn teenagers, it’s pure and innocent when it can be because they’re just... well they’re really soulmates. doomed to be platonic or doomed to never last, but soulmates nonetheless. rex and I have, uh... a LOT of verse variations on this ship but it never fucking ends well. in one, will just fucking DIES. they’re in a relationship already, and he dies, and that’s that. in another, they have very clear feelings for each other and they’ve tried a relationship, but they accept it can’t last when will gets a command of his own (which he does, and finally accepts). there’s the one where will stays on the enterprise but they just can’t do a relationship because they work together too closely, their ranks make it too difficult, picard ends up having to choose between what’s best for will and what’s best for the crew... so it has to end. or it can never really even start. there’s of course the one where picard isn’t rescued from the borg and is locutus forever (will probably ends up having to kill him, we’ll see where that thread goes). and THEN my personal favorite: everyone THINKS will died, picard ends up in a relationship with tom, and eight years later will turns up alive after all, only for his boyfriend to be dating his clone brother. 

Stanford Pines here’s another example of how picard’s capacity for love ends up fucking him over. setting the scene, ford ends up on the enterprise, he’s there for a few months at least, maybe much longer. as they spend more and more time together, and their friendship grows, he very very quickly catches feelings. he’s completely enamored with the traveler. and it’s slow going, but as it turns out, ford feels the same. and it’s really great, all things considered, because even though bill is out to get them, they have each other. it’s a whirlwind and amazing and they are completely in love, and I’d venture to guess that marriage does come up in conversation. probably mostly as a joke or vague conceptual (a dixon hill themed wedding does sound fun), but it’s at least on picard’s mind. here’s someone who isn’t starfleet but is accepted on the ship as a guest, who is so similar to him in all the ways that matter, who he’s completely in love with and would without question lay down his lie for -- and maybe he won’t leave, the way vash did. except he does leave. not because he wants to, but he has to. maybe he’s whisked away into another dimension without warning, not even a goodbye. or maybe he realizes he has to go, he still has a job, and this brief summer romance-esque time on a starship in the future is only one dot on the roadmap of his life, and he has to move on. picard probably never sees him again, they probably can’t even communicate. he hears (for he makes sure he has a way of keeping tabs on what happens across the multiverse) that bill is defeated, and he knows ford must have been the one, but he’ll never even know if the man survived. and i think he’ll always be in love with him. ford leaves ripples everywhere he goes it seems, and some of those leave wells that can never be filled in. picard’s heart is one of them.

tom riker ah yes... the ship that should not have existed, i still am not completely certain how it exists, or why. all I know is it’s precious and wonderful and ALSO cursed like everything else. because tom shouldn’t exist. and he does, and he and the rest of the world make the best out of it, but he’s not supposed to be there. most of the time, rex and I play with picard and tom in the verse where will dies in an accident and tom is brought onto the enterprise out of pity to take data’s place when the android is promoted to first officer. from there, it spins off in two ways. first -- picard just hates tom’s guts. understandably. but there’s the same attraction he felt with will because they share so much in common. and tom ends up feeling things towards picard too, and somehow they end up kissing and then there’s awkward feeling things and  yet they both....... slowly end up friends and then TOGETHER and they both think it’s pretty fuckin weird but..... it happens and it’s sort of okay. and honestly it works out best that way, and it actually lasts. except it’s still questionable and a little unhealthy and maybe slightly dysfunctional. but not as dysfunctional as... OPTION NUMBER TWO where will dies and tom... PRETENDS TO BE WILL for the longest time. because that’s awful. and then picard finds out but a relationship happens anyway??? and they keep tom’s identity a secret because things are good and tom is happy for the first time ever but picard and will can’t really publicly be in a relationship either and everything is so secretive and there’s sooo much guilt from both parties for different reasons and. hmmm even though they like... stay together and maybe eventually they can get married it’s just not?? built on strong foundations??? and yeah hm. food for thought.

IN CONCLUSION everyone jean-luc picard loves either leaves him or dies or can’t be there the way he wants them to be or it can’t work because of their duties or it’s dysfunctional and unhealthy as shit!