#BUUUUUUT also

[swingstep]

so i saw that angela does not have a shimeji yet. ... fixed it :)

ta-da!! now you can have a tiny little library director running around your screen, free of charge!! ^w^ she is very polite and will only steal your windows Sometimes. its ok, she is allowed.

link will be provided in the replies of this post; godspeed, have fun, and cherish your local angela today! 🎉✨

[wayfayrr]

CAME HERE JUST TO SAY THAT I THINK OUT OF THE REST OF THE CHAIN (minus Wind ofc) I THINK SKY DESERVES TO HAVE THE MAKE OUT SESSION OF A LIFETIME <3

Sincerely 🍀 anon who has had a lil too nuch to drink

DRUNK YOU HAS A POINT THOUGH 🍀

HE DESERVES ALL OF THE KISSES - just kissing him silly till he's gasping for breath and leaning against you, throw in giving him a few hickies so he has proof that it happened fr and wasn't just in his sweetest dreams. possibly even push him up against a wall and tilt his chin up so that his eyes only stay on you <3

Him slowly coming to the conclusion that he doesn't think that he'll be able to survive without it, that you've gotten so close to him that you give him more life than his own blood? You've carved out such an important place in his life that he would be willing - ready to follow you between worlds if he must, if he's the only one willing, well that just makes it even better no?

plus - he makes the sweetest noises in his game, so another reason why sky's best boy

[thornswoggled]

(ch 86, 74, 1, 3)

it took a long time for the manga to finally tell the full story of what happened to chises family, and i think it will take a while longer until we learn the full story of how seth met chise, and what led her to attempt suicide

i wont be "disappointed," per se, if we never see it, because it could come down to yamazaki feeling that the implication is enough, and maybe she just doesnt want to portray it explicitly for any number of reasons. but i think its important that we see her grapple with the memory of it, for the same reasons i rambled on about the dragon curse yesterday

chise is still unwilling to interrogate who she is as a person, for fear that she might not like the answer (see: "i think what i did was cruel, i wonder if im treating these people any differently than i would sheep?") its significant that when we learn of her past, we watch it as a passive observer - her memories are literally presented to her in the form of a tv with a vhs. shes able to watch without participating or being able to change anything. and thats all to be expected - she was a child without autonomy, completely beholden to the actions of adults. but when it comes to her attempt to "fly" - this is something still in fairly recent memory, and a choice she had the means to take. i believe we wont see the immediate events that led to her trafficking until chise reaches a point where she is able to wrestle with her identity and how its been informed by her ptsd. its probably why we also havent seen elias follow up on the above question from 74. if he asks her now, she wont be at a point where shes ready to answer

i think about seth and chises meeting a lot. do you think he followed her for a while before he decided to approach her? what was their brief time together like? its all very compelling to me

[pistolenprinz]

PRIDE ICONS SERIES (Credit Appreciated!)

Arthur Morgan, Red Dead Redemption 2

Flags: Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, Pansexual, Transgender, Nonbinary, Queer, Intersex, Asexual, Aromantic

Want a specific character or flag? Send me an ask!

[masterrainb0w]

A little Lark, because imagining someone taking care of him after all is said and done makes me want to throw up (positive).

[whimsicmimic]

Once again thinking about Meryl’s fear of worms in tristamp and how that can be taken as a one off “haha funny joke” or how it can be viewed as another way that Meryl’s (supposed) middle/upper class background impacts the way that she interacts with the world.

Worms are one of the few readily available/“staple” proteins (and just food sources as a whole) on No Man’s Land that aren’t sourced directly from Plants. That she reacts to worms with fear, and reacts to the idea of Eating worms with disgust/revulsion indicates either a lack of exposure to the idea of people eating worms (possible if we run with the idea of her being middle/upper class; perhaps the people in her social sphere can rely on Plant-produced proteins and other food), or a degree of separation between the meat she eats and the source from which it originates (something very common with middle/upper class-raised people. There’s a degree of separation between buying a plastic-wrapped steak at a supermarket and butchering a cow).

Either way, that she Is repulsed by worms shows her privilege as someone who can Afford To Be repulsed by worms — someone who maybe hasn’t had to rely on worms as a food source before — and I just think it’s a fun little detail to think about.

[dracocheesecake]

Kai's Hair Routine

A drabble inspired by @skauni

Kai let the water pour over his head. Usually, he didn't bother with this-bathing, even at the end of a campaign, felt lavish on the edge of frivolity- but there had been a comment made by a certain someone that he couldn't let slide.

He took out a bottle of the rice water he had made (rice water! During the war, like he was some sort of noble in the Emperor's court!). It was poor stuff, really, having been fermented only a day, with water from nearby streams and rice from his own provisions- of which there was plenty. All that the soldiers ate most days was just rice.

Kai gritted his teeth as he poured some of it over his head, and smoothed it into his mane. It felt somewhat sticky, and he wasn't certain that this would even work- but if it knocked that smug look off of that lip-smacking wannabe buddha's face-

He grumbled and combed his hair out with his fingers (as best as he could- it was thick, and heavily tangled). This was a long process, but by the end he felt he had done something right. He rinsed himself off, dried as quick as he could, put his hanfu back on, and reentered the yurt he shared with his co-general.

Oogway was reading a report, but looked up when Kai's form blocked his light. Kai smirked down at him, his hands on his hips. His mane, freshly dried, hung over his shoulders in shining, black tresses that curled slightly at the ends.

"See?" He said, "I do know how to wash it."

Oogway chuckled. "Yet you still haven't learned to brush it."

Kai's eyes widened. He grit his teeth, flushing to his ears. "I did too!" He snapped, "It's just-"

His jaws shut again. Then he crossed his arms and turned his face away. For all the fearsome titles he had acquired, at that moment he looked like a pouty toddler. Oogway laughed again, but there was a more gentle lilt to it that made Kai soften.

"I know. Come here and we'll see if it can be amended. Maybe you'll end up looking like we can present you at the next treatise signing."

Kai's ears flickered back. He grit his teeth again. "I didn't look that bad," he grumbled. But he still sat down on a mat in front of him, his back turned towards the tortoise so he could work. Oogway picked up a nearby lacquered box, green and gold, and opened it. Inside was a selection of shubi- combs of different fineness.

From amongst these he plucked the largest, a thick-toothed shu of polished jade. He hummed again, then took up a section of Kai's mane, brushing it.

"You were still covered in blood," Oogway noted colloquially, "and mud, and who knows what else. And your mane caught fire after you passed the torches and stayed lit, probably because of all of the grease in it."

"It. Wasn't. That. Bad," Kai insisted. He crossed his arms again, huffing and grumbling under his breath. Oogway rolled his eyes, but dropped it for now. After a moment he continued humming.

"It was thoughtful of Lord Boqin to send you these combs," he said as he worked, rooting out each tangle- and there were plenty of them. Kai snorted.

"And those calligraphed scriptures for you. But if the terms we lay down tonight go over- they will, he doesn't have a choice- he'll be sending assassins next."

Oogway separated the layers and pinned them back with a few fine-toothed bi. "Oh, undoubtedly. But at this point, that just comes with being a warlord. Have to get them first."

He paused after he said this. There was something in his mind that seemed to ring every time he thought like this, every time this subject came up, something that had been bothering him more and more throughout their bloody career; something he would never bring up in front of Kai, of course...But sometimes he wondered: did it have to be this way? Why? Where would it all lead?

Was there another path they could follow, one not so full of bloodshed and treachery, one that would lead them to a life of peace and fulfillment that the glories of war could not provide?

He had been so caught up in these thoughts that he didn't pay mind to his brushing- not until Kai cried out. Oogway blinked out of his reverie, the worry dissipating like a cloud in the wind. He smirked.

"You didn't so much as groan when you got stabbed by a spear," he said, "but you cry when someone tugs on your hair."

"I'M NOT CRYING! YOU'RE TRYING TO PULL MY SCALP OFF, YOU FU-"

Oogway pulled the comb, pulling the mane taut, and Kai's head followed. He winced. Oogway chuckled and eased up some. With more gentleness this time around, he ran his claws through the knots, untangling them. A few more moments, and he began to remove the rest of the combs, finishing by tying Kai's mane partially up in a top bun.

"There. Now you look like one of the Supreme Warlords of All of China," Oogway teased lightly. Kai snorted and rose.

"As long as it doesn't catch fire again," he murmured.

"Well, that depends on how often you wash your hair." He seemed to think for a moment. "...You know, actually- don't wash your hair anymore."

Kai looked at him, tilting his head. "What? Why?"

"I was thinking that maybe we could start gathering the grease from your hair. We might be able to save on lantern oil- don't hit me!" He dodged Kai's blow, giggling.

[yurki-posts]

An idea I had for a different Rob desing . .

[rubenesque-as-fuck]

Trying to remind my anxiety that if I'm posting 12 images a day for two weeks (or more) at a time on my OF, it's ok to take a few days off posting between sets.

[chromotps]

uhhh thoughts on alabasta ratman sleep-deprived and weed fueled ace vs peak chad energy fuckboy prime wano ace?? like which one do you prefer, do you have any thoughts if he’d treat/think of luffy any different? in these two periods of his life?

(also ugh I adore both and there’s something special about alabasta ace who went after luffy to drum island, made sure everyone knew he would be waiting for luffy in alabasta, then went and sat there for 10 days with no other purpose but to wait for luffy. bc he just wanted to see him so so much. brocon alabasta ace is uhhhgggghh insane vibes but. there’s also something about wano graciously giving everyone big tits and a healthy layer of fat tissue on top of all that muscle. also the fact that portgas d “i hate when little children follow me around” ace willingly befriended and took care of tama. also promised her the same thing he promised luffy. idkidkidk I just like to think luffy was on ace’s mind 90% of the time, wherever he went, and he often just thought about him bc a lot of thinks reminded him of luffy. like things luffy would like, things he’d like to eat, things he’d find funny etc)

I thought this would be easy to answer but then I had like a whole essay typed up in my head. so. thank you for this ask, I have a lot of feelings about it apparently. 😂😂

they really do feel like 2 different characters, maybe bc Oda was still firming up the details of marineford/wano when Ace first appeared in alabasta? In any case it's always fun seeing which "version" of him fans lean into in fanart/fic/headcanons hahaha. like do they make him more scrungly and sleazy (but maybe also secretly doting)? you got yourself a greasy Ace fan. do they make him all upstanding and softly affectionate and soulful? wano ace wano ace wano ace

(a lot more rambling from here)

I have to admit...... and I'm ashamed to say it............... but I was only half-aware of Ace in Alabasta—like at that point, he was just another "wacky cool shounen guy" to me. It took Marineford breaking my brain down to its component parts and rearranging them for my full Ace brainrot to set in, and at that point he was closer to Ethereal Fridged Wife wano Ace, so I'd probably go with that one? God I do need to rewatch Alabasta tho, I feel like it'd be such a trip of fawning over greasy ratman Ace this time around ahahahah

I think it took until Marineford for me to really latch onto Ace bc it was outwardly like: Alabasta Ace: I'm cool Marineford Ace: I'm cool [ironic][hiding INTENSE self-worth issues]

I agree with everything you said though... I love wrinkly, wrung-out-to-dry Alabasta Ace and his devil-may-care coolness. His vibes of being just a bit more of a rebel than any of the Strawhats even, the thing that makes people cast him as a guitarist or artist in modern AUs. that fuckin,,,,, crouch/perching thing he does,,,, The WAITING... he's so understated with his devotion, like, this panel??

he's trying to be so cool and older brother-y but really he just wants his little brother to visit him sometimes!!! he waited for luffy for 10 days when he's been prioritizing this mission over everything else, even being with his other found-family crew, and I just!!! sigh

"any thoughts if he’d treat/think of luffy any different" I so agree that Wano Ace is pre-Whitebeard Ace, meaning that even though he's presenting himself as independent and a leader/captain, there's a part of him that's still very angry and searching for acceptance. And yesss, bc of that he was probably holding his memories of Luffy so close all the time, seeing his brother who loves him in the innocent, trusting kid he helps, and unable to stop bragging about his brave little brother to the brash, impressive club-weilding guy he runs into.

meanwhile I feel like Alabasta Ace is actually more mellowed-out in his feelings toward Luffy, in a way? like idk, maybe—I might be completely off—but he's more secure in himself and his attachment to Luffy... or at least he tells himself he is. I just feel like that explains why he's shown to be so openly brag-y about Luffy in his Wano days, but seems way more laidback in Alabasta, haha (but the brocon devotion is still there, just better-hidden, lmaoooo) (and it gets ripped to the forefront during Marineford—he's forced to confront all that fear and attachment when he sees Luffy hurtling through the air toward him AH)

god tho. wano ace. wano ace and this gif

the things. the things i want to do to this man. the morals i would abandon. unspeakable.

and this???? him??????????????? sunkissed angel backlit like the once-in-a-lifetime love interest in a twee indie film???

yeah I... in summary, I feel like I have 60/40 preference for Wano Ace over Alabasta Ace, but really it's that mix of all those qualities that I like to bring in when i can.

(my secret third answer is Marineford Ace. the blorbo who started it all, lmao)

[laurelindebear]

Help

Why am I reading Wikipedia articles about post-structuralism and anti-humanism when I'm stupid-tired?

[kanerallels]

Me: Actually I should go do laundry

My sister: It's amusing, the lengths you'll go to not do this

Me: it's TRUE-

[louisisalarrie]

had some very interesting chats last night with a good friend of mine who I trust wholeheartedly that I know has worked with louis a few years back and is now close friends with him and his team and is another music industry professional and boy… the stories they have about louis are hilarious. and just as predicted from my small experience with louis, he is an absolute hilarious down to earth boy and is maybe in a long term relationship with a curly haired male popstar… but you didn’t hear it from me

[finnpeach]

Memory - Trigun Stampede

guess who's still going on about trigun stampede. anyway we aren't surprised, here's our favourite eulogist wolfwood with a cold and being a big grump to vash (with a touch of angst because if it's a finnpeach fic there will be angst). comments, tags, and feedback always loved and giggled over <3

once again set between episode 4 and 5, but slight spoilers if you haven't seen episode 6 :)

It takes two days for them to get closer to the next outpost after their second encounter with a worm. On the way, they ran into a couple of travelers that needed help, and Vash obviously insisted they stop and assist them. The next day when they set out again, the car broke down and Roberto and Vash had to spend the whole day trying to fix it until it ran again. 

Wolfwood had started feeling a dull ache in his head and a soreness in his throat the night they escaped the first worm. He chalked it up to being dehydrated, but when he woke up the next morning with a throbbing pain in his sinuses and a cough in his chest, he knew he’d caught a cold. 

He hasn’t been sick since his days at the orphanage. Frankly, he doesn’t even know how he got sick, but guesses he picked something up when they were inside the worm, or just simply from over exhausting himself the past few days. Either way, he feels like shit and is starting to lose his capacity for hiding it.

Vash, of course, is the first to notice. They’re sitting in the backseat of the vehicle, watching the next outpost grow closer when the first sneeze of many sneaks up on Wolfwood. He has barely enough time to rip the cigarette out of his mouth before—

“Huh’EGhZTSSHh!” He steeples his hands over his nose and mouth, cigarette pinched between his pointer and middle finger as he pitches forward in the seat. Ugh, that had hurt his throat. Wolfwood slumps back into the seat with a sniffle and rubs at his nose, beginning to feel miserable.

“Are you okay?” There comes that soft, sensitive voice, dripping with genuine concern. Wolfwood fights the urge to roll his eyes. Vash is looking at him with an inquisitive gaze, leaning forward slightly towards him as if to get a better look.

Wolfwood grits his teeth. “I’mb fide,” he mutters, hating that his voice is already thick with congestion. He places the cigarette against his lips and puffs out a cloud of smoke in an irritated huff. Meryl and Roberto are bickering away up front, oblivious to their conversation. 

“You shouldn’t smoke if you have a cold.” 

God, does he ever let up? “I told you I’mb fide, needle-noggid, let it go. It was just a sdneeze.”

He takes another long drag from his cigarette. Unfortunately, he does not prove his point. The smoke catches in his throat and sends him into a coughing fit. 

Suddenly, there’s a hand against his back, patting him through the fit. It’s surprising enough to distract him from the tightness in his throat and make the coughs subside.  

Vash is smiling at him, his hand extended across Wolfwood’s back. Wolfwood slaps at his wrist with a growl and turns back towards the window. He wishes Vash would just leave him alone. 

Hurt, Vash whimpers a little and rubs his wrist. He aches to do something for him, but decides it’s best to leave Wolfwood be for a bit, lest he gets bitten.

They decide to make camp about a half a mile from the outpost. It’s getting late and they don’t want to sneak into the town when there’s likely to be police or headhunters crawling about at night. Meryl and Roberto busy themselves with the sleeping rolls and dinner while Vash and Wolfwood set up the fire. 

The sneezing has only coupled in frequency since they’ve stopped to make camp. He’s had to forgo carrying around his cross just to make sure he doesn’t slip a disc every time a sneeze makes him pitch forward.

“Hh’EGHTSHHhh! Hh’EHGXSTh’huh!” Wolfwood nearly drops the firewood that time, stumbling forward in the sand. Vash is there in an instant and steadies him with a hand to his shoulder. 

Wolfwood shakes his head and tosses the firewood down. “Thagks,” he mumbles, coughing offhandedly into his wrist. His sinuses feel heavy with snot and his throat is killing him. He wishes the sand would swallow him whole right now.

Vash passes him a water flask and Wolfwood hesitates a second as he unscrews the cap. He doesn’t want to get everyone else sick if they share the flask, so he decides to waterfall it instead.

“See? I knew it.” Vash says with an elated grin, noticing Wolfwood’s caution. He looks like a kid who just guessed a riddle correctly. “You are sick. You should—“

“You should mind your own business, blondie. Leave me alone.” Wolfwood thrusts the flask against Vash’s chest and crouches down to arrange the firewood. His head is pounding. He’d like nothing more than to get out of this sun and lay down in a nice bed, or take a bath, or anything rather than be out here in the sweltering desert with a cold that’s growing worse by the minute. He lights a piece of newspaper on fire and sets it amongst the wood, watching as the sparks float up into the sunset sky.

Vash, despite looking like a puppy that’s been kicked, leaves him alone and heads over to Meryl and Roberto. They exchange some words, and then Vash is gone.

Good riddance, Wolfwood thinks. Maybe now he can sneeze in peace without being fussed over. He lights another cigarette and sits down by the fire. The smoke tingles in his sinuses as he inhales and he ends up sneezing again. 

“Huh’EHDSSHhT’chuh! Hih.. hih’EHDZSSH’YUE! Hhh.. he’eh…!” He catches the loud, grating sneezes into his hands, biting the cigarette between his teeth. The last one leaves him hanging, sitting there with his head tilted back, eyebrows twitching in sneezy irritation, the cigarette dangling on his bottom lip. When it still doesn’t come, he decides to try something that used to work when he was younger. He taps the side of his nose and the effect is immediate. 

“H’EHTSssHhh’ue! Heh’EHDTZzSSH’huh!” He doesn’t have enough time to cover and the cigarette shoots out of his mouth with the final spraying sneeze, landing pathetically in the sand. His shades are askew on his nose, which has started to run profusely. To add insult to injury, his sneezes have gathered attention again.

“Jeez, Wolfwood, that sounds bad. Are you sure you’re feeling okay?” Meryl asks as she unrolls her bed roll a few feet away from the fire. Roberto does the same. He’s not looking at Wolfwood, but he’s clearly listening.

“Will you all just shut up? I’b fide. Drop it.” He pulls his cigarette pack out of his pocket and clicks his tongue against his teeth when he sees that there’s none left. 

He turns to Roberto, who is currently taking a heavy drag off his own cigarette. “Hey, you got another cigarette I can borrow?” 

“Sorry, kid, but Vash told me not to give you one till your cold gets better.” Roberto chuckles as Wolfwood's face twists in pure rage. 

“Where is needle-noggid adyway?” Wolfwood sniffles back his congestion. He despises how hoarse his voice is starting to sound. 

“He didn’t tell you? He went into town to get medicine. Should be back soon,” Meryl says as she passes around cans of stew. It’s their meagre dinner for the evening until they can resupply at the next town.

Wolfwood wants to rip his hair out. He can literally feel the irritation and anger bubbling in him like hot steam in a teapot. How many times does he have to tell him to fuck off? He doesn’t need medicine, and he doesn’t need anyone’s pity. He rejects the proffered can of stew and opts to lay down on his bedroll, wishing sleep would take him and get him away from these people that care too much. 

After about an hour or so of laying there feeling sorry for himself, Vash reappears above him. The sun has nearly completely set, save for a few strokes of pink and red that paint the sky.

Vash looks down at him with a soft, gentle grin. Wolfwood wants to smack the smile off his face. 

“Hey, Wolfwood, I got you some medicine from the town. You should take it so you don’t get worse.” Vash hands him a little packet of pills and the water flask again. 

Wolfwood is beyond fighting at this point. His muscles ache with fatigue, and a sinus headache is starting to creep up on him. He takes two of the pills and downs them with the water before flopping back down on his bedroll again. It’s starting to get cold now that the sun is down, though it could be a fever settling in. Either way, he wraps his arms around himself and scoots closer to the fire as Vash and Meryl and Roberto start chatting. Above, the sky is bright with millions of twinkling stars, and the moon casts her soft luminescent gleams over them. His eyes grow heavy and his breathing starts to deepen. Wolfwood lets the sound of their conversation and the crackle of the fire lull him to sleep. 

He dreams for the first time in a while. He’s a child again and is back at the orphanage. He’s alone, laying in the infirmary with only a thin blanket to stop the shivers that rack his entire body. It’s so cold. 

This is a distant memory to him. Everything seems cloudy, grey, hazy. He can’t make sense of it. Had it happened this way? He’d had a high fever, and was quarantined away from the other children. Only one managed to sneak in to see him.

“Nico?” Comes a small, cautious voice. What was once a dim, grey memory now bursts alight with colour in his presence.

“L-Livio,” he says through chattering teeth. Livio is standing beside the bed, unsure. He’s never wandered somewhere unknown without Wolfwood. How did he get into the infirmary? 

“G-Go away, you’ll get sick.” He coughs into his fist, twisting away from the other boy as much as possible. 

Livio doesn’t answer, just stares at Wolfwood with his big owl eyes and looks him over. Silently, he climbs into bed under the blanket and curls against his friend’s side. His face nuzzles against Wolfwood’s neck as he wraps his smaller body around him. 

Warmth spreads through his body as if he’s being caressed by the summer sun. The shivers slowly start to subside, no match against the warmth, as he relaxes against Livio. 

Yes, this is exactly how it happened. 

Except, his grey hair is starting to tickle his nose, and the sensation is so real that it wakes him up. 

Wolfwood awakes with a start. “Livio?” Where is he?

He takes a moment to gather his bearings. He’s not at the orphanage, he’s camped out under the stars with two journalists and an outlaw. Right. 

The burning itch in his nose is back. Something feathery and blonde is tickling his nostrils, and he looks down to see someone nestled against his shoulder, their body curled around his. Its owner is snoring softly beneath him. 

Vash?!

“H’EGhNXT’shh!” Wolfwood sneezes as the tickle becomes too strong, twisting his head to the side so he doesn’t sneeze all over Vash. Anger sparks in his chest like a fuse.

Wolfwood shoves the sleeping Vash off of him and scrambles away. The cold is eager to reclaim him and seeps into his body in an instant.  

“Vash! What the fuck?!” He hisses, like water pouring over coals.

Vash gives a little start and shakes his head. “Huh…?” He gazes up at Wolfwood with sleepy, confused eyes. He seems surprised to suddenly find himself laying on the ground. 

“Why were you sleeping on me?!” There’s a heavy weight across his body. Wolfwood looks down to see Vash’s red coat lying across him, keeping out the cold desert air. 

Vash yawns and rubs his eyes. “You were shivering, so I came over to keep you warm. And you were talking in your sleep for a while. Who’s Livio?” 

Wolfwood feels panic rise within him at hearing someone speak Livio’s name. He grabs the red coat and tosses it at Vash’s face, who doesn’t catch it in time and ends up wrestling the coat off his head, falling onto his back.

“No one. Go back to sleep,” he growls, turning onto his side so his back is facing Vash. He wants to forget this ever happened. He wants to go back to that dream. And now that he’s awake, he’s rudely reminded of how sick he feels.

He shivers involuntarily when a sharp breeze howls against his back, the sensation chilling him to the bone. Wolfwood sniffles and tries to ignore the fact that he needs to sneeze again. He pinches his nose, rubs it angrily against his sleeve, but it’s no good. 

“Hih’EDTZSSHhh’uh!” He tents his hands over his nose again to catch the wet sneeze. He sniffles thickly and coughs, his eyes brimming with irritated tears. Suddenly, there’s a heavy weight placed down gently across him. Wolfwood opens his eyes to see Vash tucking his red coat around the curve of his body.

“I told you I dod’t need—“

“Just sleep with it tonight, okay? You do need it.” His tone is firm, commanding. It’s so different from his typical soft, kind voice. It leaves no room for argument. Vash tucks in one final corner around his hips before laying back down again. 

Wolfwood relents and decides that being warm under Vash’s coat beats shivering all night long. He tucks his chin under the coat and closes his tired eyes, feeling himself dragged into sleep like a helpless rowboat at sea. As his mind starts to teeter between reality and sleep, he lets his dreams wander back to Livio again, and returns to the peaceful embrace of memory.

[james-p-sullivan]

where’s the love for the writers out there writing your heart out for a fandom of three and a half people i love you