#I love this needle noggin

[its-kall-the-clown]

He wants to know if you have any games on your phone

Wolfwood companion here

[ruporas]

comfort

[ID START: Illustration of Vash and Wolfwood from Trigun: Maximum. Wolfwood is holding Vash’s head to his chest, his right hand resting gently over his ears and his left hand againtst Vash’s nape. Wolfwood looks at him melancholically as he soothes him. Vash’s eyes are shut, small tears at the corner of his eyes, asleep, and his right hand is holding onto Wolfwood’s arm. Feathered and plant wings are growing out of him, enveloping the both of them like a cocoon, leaving enough space for their heads and arms. The feathered plant wings takes up most of the canvas, colored in dark and muted blues. END]

[soranker]

some doodles from last week 😁🤞

[yuhi-san]

Yes i left tongari out on purpose, just english translation.

What do you like better in fanfic or fanart? What do you use?

[ghostbeam]

Hey. Just watched the trigun finale

[knife-drawer-rp]

What kiss trope is destined to be in your narrative?

Vash:

The Signed With a Kiss

Every letter needs a signature, right? While simply signing their name is common, sometimes a character feels that it's not enough (or they'd rather leave their name off the letter entirely). So they decide to sign off their letter by leaving a kiss mark at the end of it, with or without their name or signature. Though this is especially prevalent with love letters (or even affair letters) given the romantic nature of the content, a kiss could be left for several reasons by several different types of characters, such as from a secret admirer or a seductress's personal signature. There's usually a romantic connection between the sender and the recipient, so these exchanges are popular between partners or love interests.

Tagged by: @splinter-sister

Tagging: @nomans-land-rp @plague-on-the-run and whoever wears fuzzy socks in winter :)

[azurexsnake]

AND WHO’S SURPRISED??? Good, gimme him so I can treat him right and piss Knives off while doing so Xp

Thanks for the tag Rae 🫂

Tagging @kokonoihell @m34gs @rintoki @haitanisbug @slut-manifesto @ikkakvs & whoever else feels like participating <33

KSKSJSLSKSKLASIIS OKAY GENOS-

I'D NEVER SAY NO TO U 🤚

Tagging: @kingkyoujurou @presidentmonica @laudthingcat @kampfkuchen85 @cherrykamado @bxbycake @happygoluckyalexis @tonaken + anyone who wants to <3

[solardrink]

Stampede Saturday stampede Saturday

[dj-of-the-coven]

trigun 1998 episode simulator

[3 minutes of guitar solo]

Vash the Stampede: hi my name is Vash the Stampede. I am a hunter of Peace chasing the elusive mayfly of Love. all I really want to do is have a sandwich and a morning coffee without getting chased by bandits

some bandit: (gunshot) absolutely not. square up faggot

Vash: rats.

[gunfight]

Vash the Stampede: my name is Vash the stampede. I am a hunter of Peace chasing the elusive mayfly of Love.could I please have a sandwich

Meryl from the Bernardelli Insurace Society: how long are you going to sit on your ass doing nothing but playing games with children and doing chores for the elderly and disabled and looking after lonely youths and cooking dinner for the homeless

Vash: I've been here for like 2 days

Milly Thompson: Hi Vash!

Vash: Hi Milly

[exit left pursued by bounty hunters]

Vash the Stampede: (panting, entering a bar) my name is Vash the stampede.... I am a hunter of Peace chasing the elusive mayfly of Good L*rd what is going on in here

Hostage: mphdsfhapff!!!! mffmpphhf!!!!

Villain of the week: well if it isn't the elusive Vash the Stampede! you see it all started when I was 4 days old and you kicked me like a football and then exploded my parents to death with a laser canon and killed every puppy in a ten ile (translator's note: this is the No Man's Land equivalent of the American Mile) radius

Vash: I don't remember doing that but well I suppose you can shoot me if it'll make you feel better

Side character of the week: Are you insane? Just shoot him instead???

Vash: but my mom told me not to be mean to people

Villain of the week: (still going) And as I am now 47 years old I have finally decided to get my revenge. Say your prayers, Vash the Pisshead

[Wall explodes and reveals a motorcycle with a sexy priest on it]

[sfx: guitar with a hint of electric distortion]

Vash: is that..... Wolfwood?

Meryl who was in the background this whole time: the priest?

Nicholas Dickolas Wolfwood: (brings his fingers up to a pair of luscious lips to grab the cigarette from right between them, taking one more slow inhale before crushing the cherry red underneath his heel)(sensually cocks one of his 8 guns) Are you just gonna let this guy talk down to you like that needle noggin?

Vash: I g-

[guitar riff bumper]

[guitar riff bumper]

Vash: -uess not, since you're here to help now... (slow, warm smile) Wolfwood

Nicholas D. ranged Wolfwood: Vash

Milly who was also in the background this whole time: Hi mr priest man! isn't this lovely, I haven't seen you since the last time you spoke with mr Vash yesterday evening when you were helping him buckle all those silly belts on his pants after he had lost them somehow

Vash: On a cactus

Milly: On a cactus! Oh it must've hurt so terribly; how fortunate that Mr Priest man was there to help you

Wolfwood: Hi Milly

[gunfight]

Villain of the week: ohhhhh curses!!! CURSES!!!! I have spent my whole existence getting ready to fight Vash the Stampede but he's just too good at swallowing all my bullets!!!!!!

Vash the Stampede: my tragic dead mother would be sad if I didn't swallow everyone's bullets so I've trained diligently every morning at digesting gunpowder without dying immediately

Wolfwood: [internally: I can't believe it. All this time I've spent walking the path of darkness, reaching to a pure light that I could never grasp, and yet here is a man who's dedicated his life and his body to the pursuit of Peace. I wish he were a woman so I could fuck him romantic style. I've got a whole plan for it and everything. Whiskey, sunset, a bed with no sand in it, 6 hours. This would be fully and completely possible if only he were a woman. Unfortunately he's not, but I can still think about the what-ifs. platonically of course. Maybe if he got some good dick he'd stop being so annoying. And maybe he'd stop making me rethink my morals. I wonder if the seven drunken handies meant anything to him. Platonically]

Wolfwood: Well anyway it looks like my job is done here

Vash: (teary) Will I see you again?

Wolfwood: I don't know. And besides, whenever I look at you, I'm reminded of everything I hate about myself. You know, it hurts.

[exit Nicholas D. Wolfwood pursued by repressed homosexual desires and immense catholic guilt]

Vash the Stanned Peat: (looking out the window like a widow whose husband was killed in action) Nicholas... D... Wolfwood.......

Meryl who was in the background that entire time, yes, the whole time: shut the fuck up already

Vash: when will it be my turn Meryl. When

[roll credits]

[chuthulhu-reads]

[ID: Five panels from Trigun Maximum. The first shows Wolfwood's hand held up in front of Vash's startled face, two half-coins in Wolfwood's bloody palm. "Here," Wolfwood says, the speech bubble linking the first panel and the second, which is a close-up of one of the half-coins, the other just poking into the edge of the frame. The third panel is a tired-looking, blood-covered Wolfwood saying, "Ya see... Needle-noggin'? This is who I really am." Small side-text in one of the speech bubbles explains, "One of these is from Rai-Dei." The fourth panel is Vash looking down with a grim expression, saying nothing. The last panel shows the rows of kitchen supplies in the orphanage, including the salt and sugar jars, as Wolfwood says, "there's nothin' to say. Got it?" End ID.]

Vash is not surprised here, okay? He knew, he knew, this is just the first time they're acknowledging to each other something that they haven't been talking about, that they've both been pretending not to know. And I think it's a real gutpunch that Vash never picked up Rai-Dei's coin, that it's Wolfwood who's held onto it for all this time, because it's sort of a reminder: I'm a Gung-Ho Gun, and I'm a killer, and you know this. I've killed in front of you before. (I've killed for you before.) I think Wolfwood wants those painful reminders out there, and to leave it at that, as a last-ditch attempt at sparing Vash's feelings, because there's one more thing that they're both not talking about and pretending isn't true: Wolfwood is dying, and Wolfwood is going to die soon, and there's nothing either of them can do about it. So isn't it easier to pretend something new? That they've always been enemies, and they've never been friends, and Vash isn't about to lose someone he loves again? That Wolfwood deserves this, and to prove it, here's Vash's tokens of victory?

[drunkenlion]

I literally screamed

This episode was insane. Absolutely insane.

[madtophatter2]

i know most love wolfwood calling vash needle noggin as a reference back to the OG trigun series But 'm kicking my feet giggling whenever English dub tristamp wolfwood calls him blondie 💕

[ammstify]

Do you ever think about the fact that, despite Vash's attempts to always hide how he's feeling behind his smile, his quips, his cartoony happy-go-lucky attitude, that Wolfwood is always able to see right through it?

That whenever he's down or in a situation that pains him, Wolfwood always somehow finds a way to change direction or help him, sometimes without even realizing it?

That when he wants to help people in need or save a life, that Wolfwood, begrudgingly, helps him do that because even though he won't admit it, he cares about how Vash feels.

He cares about when he's happy, when he's sad, when he's angry, when he's struggling.... He goes out of his way to help him even when he thinks Vash is crazy or a needle-noggin idiot.

God I love vashwood.

TL;DR: Nicholas D. Wolfwood really cares a lot about this funky alien noodle and probably would destroy No Man's Land and back for him if he asked or starting crying like the little mess he is.

[ficandkaboodle]

Vaginismus: Secondo x Fem!Reader

Author's Note: So . . . I'm already really bad at these types of things. But I think writing one of these on this type of subject matter is still important. Fanfiction is kind of a very rough place when it comes to acknowledging or writing for sexual disorders. On one hand, I am to assume this is because fanfic, by its very nature, is meant to be like wish fulfillment. Reader inserts are often meant to be the representations of the best versions of ourselves. But . . . I dunno, I feel like that can only go so far when you see representations of all kinds of disorders or issues or even complete non-issues. And yet virtually nothing is ever made with people who have conditions like vaginismus or whatever in mind. I love a good smut but sometimes, reading stuff makes me flinch inward and all I can focus on is the pain I would be in from even a pinky tip trying anything. I just think it's important to try and remind people that PiV isn't the only way to "get stuff done" and that it should be okay if that's a struggle for you. Some people can work their way out of the condition, and some people never do. And I think it should be okay to write about it because all too often it's easy to forget that or feel like you've lost out on being loved or understood over something that, in the grand scheme, is so silly. And since I have the condition and there's a chance I may never get out of it thanks to my fucked up noggin, I think this should be an opportunity to write about it. Hope I did okay. There might be more to follow . . .

Word Count: 2394 CW: Vaginismus and all the lovely self-loathing it entails, reader has a vagina, references to aspects of BDSM ig, MDNI

In your defense, you didn't think it would go this far. Certainly, one could argue that Secondo was a serious man: He wasn't prone to playing with food that wasn't absolutely his to consume. But you supposed you had forgotten that, or maybe you were just high on the the arrogant assumption that you might be a special case. Or maybe it just slipped your mind to intervene when the teasing glances, subtle and overt flirtations, and little talks between you kept going and going and going until --

Now look where it had gotten you: Sat in the office of the most intimidating Emeritus brother, a packet of documents lying on the desk before you, along with an elaborate green and silver fountain pen.

Secondo preferred to use contracts when it came to his potential bedmates he had a particular eye for. Ones he had an especial intention of keeping closer. Longer.

To many, this was an absolute honor. You knew plenty of siblings that would probably kill to be in your place. And as you sat wordlessly before both Papa and his documents, you contemplated throwing yourself onto those swords.

It would certainly be quicker and less painful than ducking out after coming this far.

You could picture it: St. Andrew's crosses, leather, hot wax searing deliciously into your skin, his sharp voice directing wicked degradation before salving you with praises. All the scrumptious things Papa II had gained a notoriety for indulging. You would gladly eat it all up and beg for seconds and thirds.

But you couldn't stop it there; it had to go further. Nobody just. Stops there. Nobody normal, anyway.

The problem was that you didn't consider yourself normal. Which was what made imagining him getting into position all the more mortifying even if in concept. You could picture yourself trying to convert the anticipation you were meant to feel from one of nerves into one of bliss but it doesn't matter. You try so hard to relax and be in the moment but it's a terrible moment!

You'd heard Secondo was blessed. The idea sat in your stomach while its surroundings shriveled in fear and constricted to an uncomfortable degree. Hell, it wouldn't even matter if he were the opposite of blessed: It would all hurt the same. It would still feel as though a needle were shanking its way into your most intimate parts, piercing onward until it struck your lungs and took the oxygen right out of you. And that would only be the beginning of it.

And just thinking that was enough to make the mask slip.

You prayed to Lucifer that the sound of you wordlessly nudging the papers and pen closer to Secondo would somehow be enough to disguise the whimper paining your throat. Unfortunately, it was not.

Your already throbbing stomach somehow made enough room to swallow your heart when you saw the older man's brow quirk.

"Something the matter, Sorella?" His voice, the one you'd grown to swoon into after all these passing weeks, made you want to flinch now. Fuck. You could feel your resolve slipping through your fingers like sand and creating further mess. You just needed to keep it together --

"N-no," you forced out. You tried not to dwell on how tight your voice sounded or how it even hurt just to utter that. A complete opposite to how smooth and natural it had been when you answered his invitation to his office earlier. You weren't even sure why you hadn't expected this to be the reason for such a request. You were so naive then . . .

You tried to push through the pain, tried add on, "I'm just --" but stopped almost immediately. You had no idea what to continue with. Fuck, you were fucking this up so badly! You seriously began to contemplate just standing up and leaving, but then where would that get you?

You still lived here, in the Abbey. Avoiding a Papa was virtually impossible at the end of the day. There was no way you two could carry on as though nothing had ever happened -- the flirting, the gazes, all that junk . . . Oh, Satanas, would you need to relocate? Uproot the life you'd finally managed to create for yourself here, sent off somewhere else just to hide the humiliation of what you were and what you had or hadn't done?

Satan, why did it feel so hot in here? Was that why the air suddenly feel like it was only oozing into your lungs with difficulty?

Clearly, Secondo did not take the silence well. His lips pressed into a thin line. "If I have insulted you, Sorella, I deeply apologize." No . . . "I thought you were aware of my practices." No!! He reached a large, ringed hand out to pull the items back towards him. And somehow, that was the final straw, the final snap before the dam collapsed.

It was like watching your last chance for something being taken away from you, even of your own accord! In fact, it was exactly that: Something you knew was necessary but it didn't have to be that way but fuck, your body and mind were at odds with each other and making it your problem and --

You hadn't even noticed that you'd turned into a crying, hiccuping mess, much less one that talked. It was only when you could see through your tears an actually surprised-looking Secondo (he was capable of shock?!) that you comprehended just what sort of state you were in.

And if it was enough to make the most emotionally constipated man in the Church look disquieted, then you must've been in a sorry state. The room only felt more hot as the burn of embarrassment enveloped you. You hoped it might even consume you in a full-throttle case of spontaneous human combustion as you struggled to swallow back up everything you'd just done.

"I-I-" you hiccuped wetly. It was so hard to formulate words underneath his gaze, which he never took off of you even as he reached for a box of tissues to offer you. You knew it was one of concern, searching for traces that maybe you needed help he couldn't offer you. But for the state your mind was currently in, it twisted it into one of disgust; like maybe all those affections he might've held for you an hour ago were being replaced with ones where all he saw was a madwoman.

It was almost too much. But it was also too late to go back now, wasn't it?

"I . . . My body doesn't work right," you finally admitted in a croaked murmur. Your eyes flew down to your lap in shame, watching your hands twist and tear at the wet tissues you'd just used. "It's a condition. Like my body clenches up down there at the mere thought of penetration. So . . . So sex is off the table, basically. I'm s-sorry . . ."

God, it sounded all so lame when you said it like that. But what else could you really do? How could you communicate to him the physical and mental pain it all caused you? How could you get across to him the embarrassment that came with pap smears, the shame you felt when recognizing how behind your peers you were? Would he sympathize or pity you if he learned that on a good day, you could get the very tip of a well-lubricated q-tip in and have to consider that a victory?

You weren't able to even formulate such thoughts, let alone predict how he might feel besides, perhaps, disappointment. Maybe even disgust.

Secondo liked the finer things in life, after all: How must he feel, knowing he'd wasted so much time and energy on something that was actually broken the whole time?

"I . . . I'm so sorry." At this, your fidgeting froze, your mind beckoning for you to glance up even the slightest. In doing so, even from such an awkward angle, you could see your Papa's expression remain nearly unchanged from before. It was still worried for you, though now with a touch of something more. "I can't imagine how difficult a spot you must've felt you were in . . . And for that, I apologize."

You gave a wobbly expression born of appreciation but also acknowledging the silliness of the sentiment. You gently huffed at the absurdity, "Don't apologize, you couldn't have known." A soft shrug allowed you to upright your position better. "If anything, I'm the one that should apologize. I should've said something in the beginning . . ."

At this, the older man shrugged back. "Perhaps, but I also can understand how uncomfortable that might've made you feel. Telling someone something so intimate can be difficult. Especially if it is like . . . Well." He gestured between the both of you.

You gave the smallest of chuckles (albeit, out of a desperate need to tenderize the mood) as you twisted the shredded pieces of napkin in your lap once more. Yet again, your eyes diverted from their connection with his. "Yeah, well, at least you would've known whether or not to waste time on me."

At that, the mood seemed to slightly change. You didn't feel threatened, but you knew that the breed of seriousness had shifted somewhat. Almost reprimanding. The eyes of Papa Emeritus II were just as intimidating out of the papal paints as they were in them, it seemed.

"I can assure you, Sorella," his normal nature of calmness returned, all traces of hesitancy from moments ago completely evaporated. "I don't see any of the time or what we've done together as a waste. If you have had any partners in the past that might've felt the opposite, then I sympathize greatly with you. But I also know that means you have no experience with anyone worth your time. That is, perhaps, the most disappointing thing of all here."

Damn. What do you even say to something like that? What could you say to something like that? Under normal circumstances, you might've argued in unfortunate defense of past failed connections, pinning the blame on you. After all, that's what made the most sense. or at least, it had. Until now, with the metaphorical mirror being propped up before you by one insistent Papa.

The room fell into silence as you searched for a response -- if you even needed to make one.

"Do you still want me?"

You almost jolted. You hadn't been expecting that to be what broke the silence.

"I . . . Well, yes. Of course I do, Papa." And you did. But . . . "But I don't know if --"

"I didn't ask for specifics, piccolina. I asked you: Do you still want to be with me?"

You struggled with a punctuated inhale. "Yes."

He hummed single low note before taking back the documents and pen. You watched curiously (and perplexedly) as he began to scribble and draw lines at seemingly random places. After what had felt like an eternity, he finally slid the packet back to you.

"Take a look. It's the roughest of drafts, of course, but we can properly revitalize it as needed. If you wish to make further retractions or additions, I give you the freedom to apply them."

Your brow furrowed as you picked up the papers for inspection. Of course, your eyes were immediately drawn to the instances of green ink that now freckled the paragraphs but you took especial time dialing it back and reading in full what these adjustments were meant to even mean.

Acts concerning penetration had been removed or adjusted as necessary, acts concerning outercourse or fondling had been either emphasized or added and asterisked.

"But . . . But Papa, I can't ask you to take away from your own pleasure," you objected. It was bad enough you'd strung him along, even if he argued that you hadn't. This was still quite a lot to grapple with in under ten minutes.

At this, Secondo cracked the first hint of amusement he'd had this entire session. He smirked as he reclined back in his hair. "And what, pray tell, makes you think I wouldn't derive pleasure from doing any of these things, piccolina?"

Porn, smut, the stories kiss-and-tell Siblings would often share in the cafeteria or in the hallways or the quad. Reddit posts.

"Well, I mean," you tried to argue. "They were there for a reason, weren't they? You enjoy those things." You ignored how the smirk on his face only seemed to grow. Hm. Maybe your words didn't have as much umph to them as you'd thought? Still, you continued. "A-and besides: I can't imagine you'd get off as easily from --" You glanced down at a word he'd scribbled in. " -- thigh jobs."

The low chuckle that rumbled from his chest settled your failure of a one-sided debated.

"Oh, Sorellina: You have much to learn about my proclivities," he sighed. "I understand that what the others might talk about may paint a certain picture of me. But I can assure you, any lover worth his salt should know that just shoving their dick into something is far from the end all, be all."

"And besides." The chair squeaked as he leaned in, hands folded on the dark wood of the desk. "It takes a true lover to relish in pleasure's many forms. I am more than happy to show you this, if you will let me."

It didn't matter that you had heard him say and gesture far cruder things: Just the words coming from his lips -- lips you had craved the taste of ever since your first sampling mere days ago -- coupled with the sincerity of his unbreaking eye contact. Your face was once again awash with a heat, a pleasant one born from blush.

You wanted to let him. You'd let him do whatever he could with you. You just needed to . . . let him.

Your body made picking up the pen feel weightier than it could've possibly been. But in a way, you were used to it: You were used to fighting your body and mind, always losing the battle so that they and their anxieties could be pacified while the other parts of you remained barren. Unsatisfied, with the conviction that it was only your burden to bear.

You didn't want a story to tell or even a milestone to complete so that you could better fit in with your peers: You just wanted to be understood. Or at least, like you wouldn't get left behind, chained by your own body and mind's complications.

As you stared at the green ink that formed your name on the pristine white paper, you felt a tightness in your throat. Never before had you felt so liberated . . .

[beelzebby666]

thanks to Timehop, i stumbled across your post i reblogged where you say that Vash only calling Wolfwood “Wolfwood” is the equivalent of his pet name for him. i completely agree, but i would love to hear your thoughts on this!

So! I think that the fact Wolfwood introduced himself how he did, seeking to distance himself by not giving Vash his first name out the gate, is always an attempt, no matter what canon, to prevent himself from being endeared to Vash. Vash is a stranger that way. Vash is at arm's length. He doesn't have to feel bad.

But he does. Because Vash just embraces it. It's like Wolfwood gave him his preferred name (boom, trans feelings) and he runs with it. Says it like it's the nicest word he's ever had in his mouth. Wolfwood's never been addressed with more gentleness, more affection.

Nicholas is what the Eye called him, what Chapel and/or Conrad called him. It's what he's called when he's in trouble. Nico is what he was called as a kid and, despite being forcibly aged, he is a grown man now. It doesn't fit right. To be close to Vash, in the end, both of those people die. And he's left with just... Just Wolfwood.

Vash gets nicknames. Sometimes they're sweet, mostly they're silly. Wolfwood tries not to use his name because it feels too familiar but, eventually, it just becomes a habit. That's His Needle Noggin.

But for Vash? That's Wolfwood. There's no other way to call him. It's a name he already had, a name he gave Vash to use, but it's also a name Vash gave back much more gently than he expected.

In summary?

[faulty-writes]

Oh oh I’ve got one! Vash Stampede flirting/dating a shy reader headcannons ♥️ please and thank you (sorry had to resend bc I was afraid my asks wasn’t sent)

It's cool dear anon. I'm so excited, my very first Trigun Stampede request! Please let me know how I did, I adore Stampede Vash but I absolutely love the Vash from the 1998 TV series. Not to say the Vash from Stampede isn't loveable, he's downright adorable. But I don't know, right now I'm a sucker for 98' Vash. Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy this request and please don't hesitate to request more if you happen to like it <3

"Come on needle noggin!" Wolfwood snapped after punching Vash in the head. "Just go over there and say hello! It's not like your dumbass hasn't talked to worse. You've stared at them enough to make a point!" While Vash didn't necessarily agree with Wolfwood, it was true that he had fixated on you recently.

"H-hi there!" were the first words he had spoken to you after casually walking up to the counter of the saloon you worked in. You remember how bright and friendly his smile was but how you stepped back out of instinct. "Oh, shy, right? S-sorry, I didn't mean to disturb you! Heh, heh," he awkwardly waddled back to his seat knowing the last thing he needed to cause was trouble for you.

His second attempt started with "Hi there, heh…just thought I'd try to talk to you again." He chuckled as he laid his hands on the counter. "I heard your name is Y/n," he smiled sheepishly, "what a pretty name." Maybe all you needed was a compliment to make you smile, he'd sure love to see that.

"I don't know, I mean they seem pretty shy. I wouldn't want to push them out of their comfort zone, you know? That's kind of not nice," he said, politely turning down Wolfwood's idea to ask you out. "Pff, suit yourself," he mumbled in reply, "but wait too long and someone else is going to snatch them up and you won't like that."

"Hey…it's me again," he said on a quiet night when the saloon was empty of customers. "Sorry if I've been bothering you lately, I know you're kind of shy but…" he chuckled and rubbed the back of his head. "I'd be interested in…well t-talking to you, heh. I'm willing to listen to anything you'd like to talk about!" Everyone deserved that, right? And since you were busy dealing with customers all day, he was sure you had a lot to say.

You didn't realize his flirting attempts were flirting attempts at all because well, they didn't exactly make sense. "You know…I really admire the way you fill the glasses up," he chuckled. "You're always so careful to make sure the foam doesn't spill over the top," he smiled at you, hoping you'd say something in return, but you just thought his words were as strange as he was.

After a while, you grew accustomed to his warm smile and gentle voice so much that you looked forward to his visits. You also started to get to know his friends, who seemed a bit on edge but friendly. Vash noticed this slight increase in confidence and couldn't be happier for you.

His idea of asking you out was to suggest something quiet to do together to make you feel safe and comfortable. Of course, you never imagined it would end with the two of you staring at the five moons that hovered in the sky.

It surprised you that Vash always leaned close when you spoke and maintained eye contact. Of course, you weren't used to having someone's full attention. But it was still comforting to know that he was always interested in what you were doing or saying.

"Oh, heh sorry! I d-didn't mean to, really um..." The first time the two of you had fallen asleep together, you woke up to Vash's arms securely wrapped around you as if he were afraid that you'd get up and leave in the middle of the night. Of course, after hearing a few things about his past it was understandable why he felt so scared to lose you.

"Sorry…I guess I couldn't help myself, heh…" His face was completely flustered after he kissed you, as was yours. "I…understand if you don't feel the same way, not many people would want to be with…Vash the Stampede. Heh, the Humanoid Typhoon." He nervously chuckled before asking, "S-so…how do you feel?"

"What?!" Meryl snapped, grabbing your shoulders. "I'm happy for you but are you sure this is what you really want?" she asked. "Why don't you let them make their own mistakes, little miss?" Wolfwood said, stepping between you two. "If they want to date needle noggin, then that's on them…" Although he knew that if Vash messed up, he'd receive a beating.

"Ta-da!" Vash exclaimed as he uncovered your eyes to reveal the ruined city of July leaving you in shock. Why would he insist the two of you come here? "I know it's a little weird, but I thought I'd bring you here for our date because..." he reached over to hold your hand. "I think it's about time this place had good memories again."

He always stuck to his belief in protecting something more than anything else in this world: you. This meant he'd step in front of you whenever suspicious characters were around, or people looked at you the wrong way. Blocking their view of you and being ready for action if the situation escalated was something he was all too willing to do.