#critter vash

[spaltedrat]

forest critter vw

[smokeygrayrabbits]

vash has bird like habits. specifically in love for anything shiny. ww has a running competition with himself to try and bring vash The Best Shiny™. vash cries and chirps and purrs happily everytime, he has a special pocket in his bag of wolfwoods gifts.

[devikiu]

As a H:SR player and big Trigun fan , I want to introduce , the one and only:

Critter Vash

[newtsnaturethings]

Crittergun returns!

New additions:

Midvalley the Hornfreak - green heron

Legato - blue heron/bitch bird

Rem - squirrel

(silly bit of lore: Alex was a Stellar jay)

Elendira - pine marten (aka tree murder tube)

original doodles here

[zemi-noelle-art]

So at my work we sell calico critters which are near and dear to my heart, and I've also been super into Trigun Stampede lately, so naturally my brain gave me this wonderful concoction that I had to draw and share with you all.

Also because my coworker suggested it, I made them into stickers! Links below :) Vash sticker Wolfwood sticker

[rennyrose]

Just wanted to say thank you for all the Trigun goodness (especially Livio, who you've made downright addictive!). Your art and humor are a much needed ray of sunshine in a dismal world *does Wayne & Garth We're Not Worthy bow*

I was re-reading Maximum and got to the part where Liv and Vash freak out over Zazie's messenger horking up a bug... have you ever had the urge to redraw those reaction panels? I can't even look at them without wheezing 😆

(CW for bugs/mouth stuff) Shiiiiiieeet thank you-! I’ve never done a true redraw but they’re definitely some of my favorite panels-

Liv is subjected to some weird mouth stuff- it’s kind of odd cause he would only have two nickels but it’s weird that it happened twice

[hiveswap]

im rewatching trigun 98 tonight because the other time i watched it the dread went away wish me luck

[ilikeflowersandstuff]

Love the word creechur.

One of the best inventions of the internet.

Just fills a need I didn't know I had.

--- Creature but it's a just a little guy (that's slightly unnerving.) --

[smokeygrayrabbits]

vash: finders keepers!

nai: you found him in a dumpster!

wolfwood: quit harshing my vibe man I live here

nai: you are a pathetic stray my brother brought home. a vermin. a pest. leave.

wolfwood: squatters rights my guy. we're inlaws now

nai: you're not an inlaw you're an outlaw

[totallynotsilversora]

I had a thought on Twitter dot com that Vash from 98 and Vash from Tristamp are two different critters and I have decided that 98 Vash is like that chaotic Labrador running around the house while Tristamp Vash is more like a skittish gecko.

Observe:

Please share your thoughts I’d love to hear them!

[museqmeg]

Stampede Vash's hair going from soft and fluffy to full spikey is very "critter with its hackles up" to me.

[smokeygrayrabbits]

I am once again on my inhuman vash soapbox shouting into the void about how vash is a little critter posing as a dude. he does not naturally Human™ he just imitates the people around him to act human.

picking up their mannerisms and making them his own. turning himself not only into a patchwork of scars and metal, but also of the people he's met.

theyre lives are so fleeting and so beautiful, he works them into himself to let them live on. taking the art of their passions and experiences and mapping them onto himself.

after all, plants aren't individual. not really. they function as extensions of a whole. a hivemind not unlike the root systems of the Aspen groves that once dominated the landscapes of earth.massive and connected and immortal through their community, their likeness.

but humans are. they're single and fleeting and wonderfully individual. each of them unique from the others, no two alike. this gives them power, knowledge and passion and drive that a plant like vash could never imagine. but it also makes them tragically small specs on the sprawling plains of time. their lives burning hot and bright and fast like the fireworks rem showed him videos of as a child.

vash burns slowly. less of a firework and more like a stick of incense, leaving every where he walks bathed in a haze of power and smoke and destruction. cleansing and blessing the ground he walks on, the lives he touches.

vash can't make their lives longer and he's tried. pouring energy into their bodies as they lay dying at his feet in a desperate plead for them to stay please don't leave me. their body's are so much softer than his. weaker and unguarded. even their cells are soft and delicate, letting the energy he pours into them slip away like water over stone. he can't save them from themselves, but he can preserve their memory in himself.

if someone, say for instance a nosy old reporter, watched an angel like the good well meaning stalker they are, they might start to realize that vash repeats things. not obviously, not right away, but later.

a unique saying from a shopkeep a few towns back might roll off the stampedes tongue one day, and then again a week later.

or a specific quirk to his brow that looks just a little too much like that gangster from last months incredulous face at being put in a confession booth mid shootout.

sometimes if a well-meaning and slightly stalkerish old reporter kept a reallyyy close eye on a particularly sleepy or drunk outlaw, they might notice that with every drink his mimics get a little closer to copying in real time.

bottle green limps slamming down on counters in the same way that darker scarless forearms do 12 drinks in with their sleeves rolled up.

drunken giggles taking on the familiar snort of a younger newbie on a late night.

if a very attentive and only slightly tipsy stalker looked to the twiggy outlaw to their side, they might see him taking the same pose over the bartop as the stalker is wont to do.

Roberto is a reporter, and a little stalkerishness comes with the territory, and he thinks the mimicing is adorable.

[blondeboyfriend]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐑𝐔𝐈𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐒𝐎𝐔𝐋 𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐃 𝐅𝐎𝐑 (𝟏𝟖+)

𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐃𝐍𝐈

[ PAIRING ] Vash the Stampede x reader [ AUTHOR'S NOTE ] The first of many reposts from my old blog. [ SYNOPSIS ] You're the child of a dead preacher. He's an angel on the run. [ WORD COUNT ] 6.5k [ CONTENT ] Modern AU, fallen seraph!Vash, I'm just making up shit about angels honestly, graphic injuries, sacrilege, oral sex (m receiving), vaginal sex, virginity loss, Vash has a big dick and he does not know how to use it, creampie, sad ending (I'm sorry).

“I don’t remember it looking this…”

Your now former groundskeeper guffawed on the other end of the line. “Shitty?”

You shook your head even though your father’s abandoned church was in rough shape. It was clear not a soul had been looking after it.

“It looks…”

“I ain’t got all day.”

You thought long and hard. “Depressing,” you finally muttered. “I thought you were going to take care of it.”

“You think I’m gonna work for free?”

“If money was an issue you should have said something,” you sneered.

She coughed. “I ain’t that chapel’s keeper,” she replied firmly.

The chapel was tucked away deep in the mountains away from town. You looked at the ivy covered door barely on its hinges. Lichen had overtaken the walls. The roof was covered with decaying leaves and bright green moss and had a sizable hole. It was a miracle it hadn’t caved in. Most derelict buildings didn’t survive the rainy season let alone several.

“Probably full of mold and critters anyway. I don’t know why you wanna be there in the first place.”

“I…”

Even you didn’t know why you came. Your father had been dead for a while. It’s not as if you were seeking closure. Your scars had healed long ago, the pain only a dull twinge if you saw photos of him giving you a piggyback ride or sleeping on a sun soaked beach.

“Boredom,” you laughed. “No other reason.”

“Lia—”

You hung up before she could utter the entirety of the word. You knew it was mostly out of guilt for letting things get this bad.

You walked the perimeter and tried to avoid the tall grass that surrounded the church. It was amazing how fast the mountain was able to reclaim it all. Sooner or later the concrete pathways would get eaten up by the earth, but for now it was only nipping at its heels. As you made your way to the back, your feet leaving deep imprints in the soft, waterlogged soil, you were confronted by a massive hole in the ground. You were centimeters away from falling into it.

“Holy shit.”

You squatted down to get a better look at the crater. There were iridescent white feathers scattered about, some stained with blood. You couldn’t tell if it was fresh or not. There was no bird in the area that could make a hole of that size in the ground, but you couldn’t think of any other explanation. You stood up and noticed evidence of something clawing its way out of the hole. A trail of bloodied feathers made their way to the back door of the church, or rather where the back door should have been. It was missing altogether, ripped from the hinges.

All the signs pointed to getting the fuck out of there, but you couldn’t quell the curiosity swirling inside you. Sweaty palms and the pit in your stomach weren’t good enough deterrents. You took slow steps towards the gaping doorway. Each step felt like a potential death sentence but you were steadfast.

You peeked your head inside and saw nothing out of the ordinary. Just pews and the other side of the church. Light streamed through the hole in the ceiling and a few of the lancet windows, giving everything an ethereal look. It felt liminal, a place between worlds. Stepping inside you were greeted by native grasses popping up between the wood paneled flooring and a few more bloodied feathers.

“This can’t be safe,” you muttered, making damn sure to take careful steps.

You really had no business being in there. There was nothing special or sentimental stowed away. Your father’s belongings and any items of religious importance were swiftly removed upon his death. All that remained was dust and several moldy study bibles.

You stepped deeper inside and stood beside the pulpit. Images of your father preaching fluttered about your mind. His voice was clear as day, only making the lack of him more apparent. You felt like someone was pushing needles into your heart. You stumbled away to the pews, hoping distance would rip you away from your memories.

You crept down the aisle, following the trail of feathers. It was much like your father had many times before on his way from the pulpit. The pews were in terrible shape, the cushions had all rotted away. You hoped to sit in one for old time’s sake, but it was a risk you were unwilling to take. Stained, festering nylon curtains covered most of the lancet windows, though a goodly portion of them had been haphazardly torn down. You assumed it was an animal for your own comfort.

Continuing down the aisle you noticed a large heap in the corner where the feathers ended. It was wrapped up in the missing curtains and shivering. You tried to think if there were any sightings of enormous birds in a desperate attempt to make sense of it all. Of course nothing came to mind; it was only wishful thinking.

Your eyes darted around, looking for something long to poke the heap with. The only option was a study bible. You quietly reached for one near the pews, the cover moist between your fingers. You started to dry heave as the smell of the old, wet book enveloped you.

“Ew, ew, ew,” you said, tossing the bible at the shivering mound.

Your aim was terrible and the bible slammed into the wall before hitting the ground beside the heap with a loud thud. Your mouth filled with saliva, anxious nausea overwhelming you. The heap shot upright, the curtains still clinging to its form. You didn’t know what to do so you ran out the back door. In your hurry to escape you tripped into the crater. You could feel death surrounding you, the air around you signaling your inevitable demise. You tried to climb out of the hole, but it was simply too deep. Fertile soil wedged itself under your fingernails in your futile attempt to escape.

You sunk down and sat in the dirt, holding your head in your hands. You felt like an idiot. Why did you come here? What purpose did this serve?

In the midst of your mental breakdown, you heard footsteps and again made a pathetic attempt to pull yourself out of the hole. You nearly vomited when you saw a tall figure obscured by curtains hovering above you. It squatted down and held out a shaky, wounded hand. You were too frightened to move.

“Take it,” a small voice rasped.

You continued to stare at it, wide-eyed and terrified. It wiggled its fingers.

“I don’t have all day.”

You slowly reached up and grabbed its hand. Its palm was rough, fingernails full of the same dirt that was underneath yours. The heap hoisted you out of the hole with an ease you didn’t expect. It seemed so fragile when you first saw it shivering in the church.

It quickly scuttled back inside before you could properly thank it. You stood there, eyes fixed on the open back door. You knew the right thing to do was run down the road and get in your car, but again your curiosity got the best of you. You made your way back into the church and tip-toed over to the figure. It was resting in the same corner, only this time its feet were sticking out from under the curtain. Streaks of blood marred its skin.

“Hello?”

Its shivering stopped.

“Hey. Uh, I…”

Your sentence trailed off and again, the heap was silent. Against better judgment you reached out to it. Just as it was within reach it swiftly grabbed your wrist. You stared in horror at the scarred arm. Your life began to flash before your eyes, or it did until you got a glimpse of the heap.

As you tried to pull away the curtain parted enough so you could see half of a face and the prettiest eye you’d ever seen. It was a striking blue-green color with long, dark eyelashes. Strands of blonde and black hair peeked out as well. The heap released your arm and tried in vain to cover his face.

“I… I just wanted to say thank you!” you blurted out.

“You’re welcome. Now go away.”

“... Can I ask why you’re here?”

“No,” it said.

“I’ll have you know this is my property,” you said, trying to sound threatening. You felt like a bad actor. “Either you tell me or I’ll call the cops.”

It paused. “I’m resting.”

“Okay… Are you hurt?”

Maybe it was a hiker that got injured and sought refuge in the first building it saw. That seemed the most likely though it didn’t explain all the feathers.

“I’m fine.”

“You sure?”

“No. I mean, yes! Please. Leave me alone,” it said as the curtain slid down, revealing its face.

It was a man, a handsome one at that. His face was scratched up and covered in swatches of dirt. His skin was tanned, like he was someone that spent his days toiling under the kiss of the sun. His hair was a disaster, blonde and black strands sticking up like he’d just woken up from a neverending nap. Your starry-eyed expression seemed to make him realize the curtains were no longer obscuring every part of him.

“Dammit,” he whimpered.

Your heart was caught in your throat. You needed to focus on something else, something other than him and his arresting beauty.

“Y—you know those curtains are pretty gross. I wouldn’t wrap myself up in them… Just saying.”

He looked away from you and stared at the ground.

“I don’t have any other options.”

“Okay I get that, but those curtains are still beyond disgusting.”

The man narrowed his eyes before letting the curtains drop. You only got a brief glimpse of his beaten body before a mass of wings appeared and shielded himself from you. They were made of the same iridescent feathers that littered the church.

“Ow.”

Blood still clung to many of them. You tried your best to stay calm.

“So you are hurt.”

“It’s not like you can do anything about it. Now leave me alone. I’ll be gone soon.” His stern voice gave way to a whinier one. “I hope.”

“Are you, like, waiting on someone?”

“Oh yes,” he sneered. “I’m waiting for my brethren to pick me up. They should be here any day now. I just have to wait for the sound of their herald.”

“No need to be hostile. You are in my chapel.”

“And? I’m one of your God’s messengers.”

You gulped. You never thought you’d be in the presence of a literal angel. After your father died you “turned your back on God” and dissolved the congregation much to the chagrin of the parishioners. You didn’t see any reason to continue on. Scripture was nonsense and served to remind you of the things you lacked, namely your father.

The angel peeked out from behind his wings.

“Ha. Can’t beat that, can you?” he asked with a weak smile.

“I guess not… How long will you be here?”

“Don’t know,” he said before wincing.

He looked tired. You weren’t sure if angels needed to sleep or not, but resting certainly wouldn’t hurt. Carting him to your apartment crossed your mind, but there was no way you could explain his presence to your neighbors. If you lived in a city, you could probably get away with it. But small towns weren’t made for secrets and strange men.

“Stop staring,” he said before a small wing appeared, hiding his face. “Ouch.”

“Does that hurt?”

“Does what hurt?”

“Uh, like, having your wings out.”

“It’s excruciating.”

“You can put them away then. It’s not like I haven’t seen a naked body before.”

The angel let out a heavy sigh as the feathers fell and the bones seemed to melt away. His arms were torn up and covered in cuts, his left arm was practically ripped to shreds. One of his clavicles was broken so badly the bone had torn through his skin. His legs were much like his arms and riddled with cuts. Pillowy yellow fat spilled from one of the deeper ones. A wisps of iridescent feathers still clung to various parts of his broken body.

He held his legs close to his chest, trying to hide as much of himself as possible, and looked up at you like a neglected puppy.

“Who did this to you?” you asked.

He laughed, the fakest one you had ever heard. “The ground.”

Prying crossed your mind, but you doubted he’d be truthful. A strong gust blew through the church, the cold drilling itself into your skin. You dug your hands into the pockets of your coat as your body began to fold in on itself. You were never one to successfully withstand the cold.

It seemed the angel wasn’t either, if his whimpering was anything to go by. You straightened your back and cleared your throat.

“Here,” you said, pulling off your coat. You squatted down next to him and draped it over his shoulders. It didn’t offer much coverage, but the thought was there. “I can’t stand seeing someone look so miserable.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, smiling weakly.

“You’re supposed to say thank you.”

The apples of his cheeks flushed pink and he bashfully thanked you. It was astounding how cute he was. You found yourself lost in his eyes; they looked like perfectly polished turquoise. Every aspect of him drew you in. You weren’t sure if it was because of his angelic nature. You couldn’t remember if they were capable of being so bewitching.

He cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable with your staring. Your skin grew hot the second you realized this.

“Fuck. I guess I’m the one that’s sorry now, huh?”

He smiled weakly once more.

“It’s fine,” he said before looking out one of the windows. “The sun’s going to set soon. You should get going.”

You nervously scratched the base of your skull. “I feel kind of weird leaving you here in… this state,” you said, eyes fixed on his busted collarbone. “Let me, uh, you know… help you.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I want to.”

“I’m more trouble than I’m worth.”

“Most things in my life can be described like that and it has yet to stop me.”

You reached out and wiped away some of the dirt on his cheek with the pad of your thumb. You usually weren’t so gutsy but you felt overwhelmingly compelled. You need to help this man, this angel.

“Do you have a name?”

“Vash.”

“Cute. Shit. Cool. I mean, nice to meet you,” you said before telling him your name.

He repeated your name under his breath and your stomach was aflutter. You wanted to hear him say it over and over again. You inhaled deeply and tried to compose yourself. You stood up and gazed down at the nude heap of a man that sat in front of you.

“Come home with me. You’ll be more comfortable.”

“I’d rather stay here.”

You furrowed your brow. You weren’t confident in your ability to persuade him. You didn’t want to press too hard and scare him off.

“Fine. But I’m coming back tomorrow with some clothes. Maybe a blanket. Food too. Wait… Do you even eat?”

“I eat. I don’t have to, but I like to.”

“What should I bring you?”

His eyes widened and seemed to sparkle.

“Doughnuts.”

“Noted.”

“And pizza.”

You giggled. “Anything else?”

“Nope,” he said with a grin, flashing his pointy canine teeth.

After a restless night’s sleep, you set out to gather supplies. You went to a thrift store and grabbed a bunch of shirts that seemed like they’d fit Vash’s lithe yet toned body. You bought a few pairs of pants that looked long, and briefly stared down an old and opened pack of men’s underwear. You wouldn’t dare bring him such a cursed item. He was an angel after all. You didn’t want to inadvertently get on his shit list. He would just have to go commando.

Your next stop was the grocery store where you bought a sizable first aid kit and dozen doughnuts of varying flavors. You couldn’t parse out his taste so you decided to go a little overboard. If anyone deserved to be spoiled, it was him. You wanted him to be comfortable, to be at ease.

The drive up the mountain was peaceful. But the sky was gradually becoming speckled with blotchy, grey clouds.

“I’m back,” you said in a sing-song voice as you entered the chapel.

You walked down the aisle in between the pews and found Vash where you had left him last night. He was asleep under the musty curtain and was using your jacket as a makeshift pillow. You put down your bags and squatted beside him.

“Hey,” you said, running your hand over his dirty hair.

His eyes fluttered open, his expression was of momentary terror before he realized it was only you.

“Hi,” he yawned.  

“No pizza, but! I have doughnuts and some clothes. I don’t know your size so I just grabbed a bunch of shit.”

“Thank you,” he said, sitting up slowly. You were happy to see that his collarbone was no longer piercing his skin. All that remained was a dark scar.

He reached for the bag and pulled the clothes out, expressing zero interest in them. His eyes lit up when he saw the pink box and eagerly took it out of the bag. He almost looked a little teary eyed.

“I also didn’t know what flavor you liked so I—”

He shoved a glazed cruller into his mouth. “I like all kinds,” he replied, voice muffled by his full mouth.

He swallowed and beamed. He had one of those smiles that could melt the heart of even the coldest person.

“Thank you,” he said, pulling out a chocolate doughnut from the box.

“No problem. I—” 

Before you could finish your sentence a droplet of water landed on the tip of your nose.

“Fuck,” you muttered.

Looking up at the hole in the ceiling you saw that the sky was now an unforgiving and darkened grey. You tossed your head back and groaned. Your mind was assaulted with a cascade of thoughts.

I hate driving in the rain. The road back has so many hairpin turns. He can’t stay here. Not like he can stay with me though. I guess I could leave him. But I’m sick of running from everything. What if the entire ceiling caves in? What’ll happen to him? What would dad do?

You knew he wouldn’t leave an angel behind to rot in his chapel that was for sure.

“Something wrong?” Vash asked before biting into a maple bar.

“Come home with me.”

“What? No way.”

“You can’t stay here. Not in the rain. You’ll be miserable.”

“I’ll be fine. I’ve already caused you enough trouble.”

“You don’t get to decide that,” you snapped. “Now get dressed. You’re coming with me.”

You kept your sentences short and firm. You didn’t want to give him any room to weasel his way out of your demands. There was no way in hell you were going to let this battered angel suffer. His protesting meant nothing to you.

Vash winced as the rain worked its way into his wounds.

“Well when you put it like that,” he said as he eased his way up from the cold and unforgiving floor.

You averted your eyes, making a conscious effort not to stare. The urge was there, an ever present annoyance, but you looked everywhere else. The hole in the ceiling. The decaying floors. The rain tapping at the windows. When you finally looked at him he was dressed. The white button-down wasn’t a perfect fit; the oversized nature of it made him look even more fragile. And the pants were too short, the hems just barely covering his shins.

“Do I look stupid?”

“You look like… I had no idea what I was doing while I was shopping,” you laughed. “C’mon. Let’s go before it starts pouring.”

You held out your hand and immediately felt like an idiot. He was an angel. Would someone like him ever need assistance from someone like you?

Surprisingly, he took your hand. His palms were big and rough, fingers long and graceful. Your heart pounded in your chest as you led him out of the chapel. You couldn’t stop thinking about his hands caressing your shoulders and how lovely a sensation it must be. You sighed in relief once you saw your car, immediately unlocking it. He went to get in the backseat and you stifled a laugh.

“You don’t wanna sit up front?”

“Do you want me to?”

You hated him for asking. Of course you wanted him to, but you didn’t want to have to actually disclose that.

“I’ll feel like a chauffeur if you sit in the back,” you replied, purposefully avoiding his question.

He smiled, eyes narrowed, a teasing expression. He wasn’t stupid and you were a bad actor. Wordlessly he got in the passenger seat much to your relief.

The drive itself wasn’t all that bad, but still you were consumed with anxiety. Vash kept his face glued to the window, looking outside at the redwoods that embraced the mountain. His inattention gave you plenty of time to craft an excuse as to why he was with you in the first place.

“If anyone asks, and I’m really hoping no one will, say we went to college together,” you said, hands clenching the steering wheel.

“Hm?” he said, redirecting his attention. He gazed at you, eyes trained on your lips. “What were you saying?”

“I—uh. If anyone… Be normal.”

“Normal?”

“Ye—yeah. Normal.”

“Should I say I’m your boyfriend?”

“What?! No!”

“Is that not normal?”

“It’s… ugh. Technically! I guess!”

“So I can say that then?”

“No. Say something else.”

“Something else.”

You spent the last twenty minutes of the drive feeling vaguely nauseous and mildly sweaty.

The two of you managed to make it to your apartment door without running into anyone. You hurriedly tried to unlock it, only to drop the key because of your impatience.

“Hello,” you heard Vash say cheerily.

You turned around in horror and saw your landlord. He merely nodded and waddled out of sight.

“Nice to meet you! I’m their boyfriend!” Vash shouted after him.

“What is wrong with you?” you growled, shoving the key into the lock.

You swung the door open and pulled the obnoxious angel inside.

He stood bashfully in your living room. “What? It was funny.”

“Hardly,” you hissed.

Your annoyance with him was gone as fast as it came. He somehow looked more exhausted and battered surrounded by the comfort of your home. How could you hold even a pinch of resentment for someone in his state and of his stature? The right thing to do was ease his misery, not stoke its flames.

“You should shower. You’d probably feel better.”

“I don’t think I can stand that long.”

“Bath?”

“With my luck I’d fall asleep and drown.”

“What if I help?”

He appeared to be deep in thought. “That’ll work.”

You led him into the bathroom and ran a hot bath. Steam filled the bathroom. The warmth was welcome on such a harsh and rainy night. Vash got undressed and lowered himself into the water. He let out a pleased groan, one that made your brain stop functioning.

You buried your lewd thoughts into the depths of your mind and sat on the edge of the tub, guiding Vash so he was positioned in between your legs. Suddenly you were plagued with shyness.

“Ah, um, co—could you dunk your head?” you asked timidly.

He obliged, sliding further into the tub and submerging himself in the bathwater. He shut his eyes and lingered underneath its weight. His face was solemn.

“Oh—okay. You can come up now,” you said.

He opened one of his eyes and smiled. He sat up. His wet hair slicked back leaving face on full display. You swallowed hard and squirted some shampoo into your hand.

“Let me know if it gets in your eyes.”

“Don’t you worry. I’ll scream like a little girl.”

You laughed, probably harder than you should have. But you felt obligated to. He was trying so hard to keep up this thin facade.

You worked the shampoo into his hair, letting the silky strands slide between your fingers.

“Smells nice,” he murmured.

“Thanks…”

An awkward silence enveloped the room. Neither of you knew what to say, what subject to broach. You focused on massaging his scalp, washing away every bit of blood and dirt. Every so often he broke out into a delighted hum.

“That feel good?” you asked, scratching the back of his head.

“Yesssss,” he moaned.

You choked on your own spit.

“Are you okay?” he asked worriedly.

“Yeah! I mean, yeah. Yeah. Yes. Uh, I need to—to rinse. Dunk your head again.”

He slid further into the tub, but he kept his face above the water. The soap spread through the water, encircling his head like a halo. He stared up at you, eyes still doe-like but now with a piercing quality. Silence filled the room once more.

“Is there something on my face?”

“What?” he said, eyes softening. “Oh! No, I was just staring.”

You didn’t know how to respond to his bluntness.

“You’re very beautiful.”

You felt dizzy, like the world was spinning around you.

“Th—thank you. Uh.” You lifted his head out of the water, unable to use your words. He followed your lead and sat back up. “You can wash your body, right? I can get your back. But… you should… probably do the rest.”

“I think I can manage.”

You got up and grabbed a fluffy washcloth off your bathroom counter.

“If it hurts—”

“I’ll let you know,” he chuckled.

You smiled nervously and wetted the wash cloth, squeezing out a generous amount of body wash into it. You looked at his back and the wounds that covered it. As you began to bathe him his shoulders tensed up. It didn't take long for the washcloth to tinge pink. His discomfort made you feel like there was a hole in your chest.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Sure,” he whimpered.

“How do you plan on getting back?”

“Back to where?”

“To heaven.”

“I don’t,” he said solemnly.

Again you were unsure how to respond. You wrung out the washcloth and handed it to him. You watched as he washed his arms and nearly fell to the floor when he lifted one of his long legs out of the water.

“You can stay here as long as you want. You know that, right?”

“I don’t want to intrude.”

“You wouldn’t—”

“Please. Don’t.”

“But you have nowhere else to go!”

“I’d be putting you in harm’s way,” he said, the sweetness gone from his voice. “It’s for your own good.”

How could he know what was good for you? You considered pressing him for more details, but his comfort trumped your curiosity.

“I just want to help you,” you muttered. “That’s all.”

He said nothing.

“I’ll… grab you a towel.”

You got out of the tub and left the bathroom, looking for any excuse to step away. You were caught between your need for answers and your need to keep him calm, to let him feel safe. Tears welled up in your eyes, not from sadness but frustration. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. You weren’t sure what it was supposed to be, but you knew this wasn’t what you wanted for him.

As you searched for a towel your brain was overwhelmed with questions.

Who is he to decide what is and isn't for my own good? What harm is going to seek me out if he stays? How can I get him to stay? What will it take? What am I willing to give?

Your concentration was obliterated by the sound of him getting out of the tub. You grabbed a towel from your linen closet and returned to the bathroom.

“Here,” you said, handing him the towel.

As soon as he took it from his hand you turned and moped to your bedroom. You got undressed and threw on an oversized t-shirt. You planned on letting him sleep in your bed. You would take the couch even though it was uncomfortable to sleep on.

“Do you have something I can sleep in?”

You froze. You absolutely did not. You stumbled over to your dresser and searched for something, anything. He approached, standing beside you as you frantically looked.

“Those might fit,” he said, pointing at a pair of black running shorts.

He tried them on and they did indeed fit though the tip of his cock poked out. You pretended like you didn’t notice.

“I was thinking you could sleep in my bed.”

“That sounds good to me. Fair warning though, I’ll probably end up cuddling you.”

“I… I’m not… I’m gonna be on the couch.”

“Oh,” he said dejectedly.

“Did you want me to sleep with you?”

He blushed.

“I mean like… sleep-sleep,” you clarified.

He laughed. “Yeah! Of course. I knew… I knew what you meant.”

Your awkwardness was rubbing off on him. The two of you crawled into bed, leaving a sizable amount of space between your bodies. You were on your back, staring up at the ceiling, and failed at trying to will yourself unconscious.

You glanced over at Vash who seemed to be doing the same, except he was shivering.

“Are you cold?”

“A little,” he said.

You rolled over and closed the gap. You draped an arm over him and rested your head on his shoulder. You held him close to your body, hoping he could leech away some of your warmth.

“I should have covered you in band-aids.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll be fine.”

“I’m more worried about my sheets.”

“I see how it is. I don’t matter anymore?”

“Yeah. That’s why I’m holding you. I don’t care about you at all.”

He snorted and wrapped his arm around you. The weight of it against your back made your heart pound. Making a move on him crossed your mind, but you were crippled by your inaction.

“Not comfortable,” he grumbled before turning to face you.

He pulled you into his embrace, arms snaking around your body. Your face was buried in the crook of his neck, lips practically touching it. You were coming out of your skin; being so close to him left you spiraling. The likelihood of you ending up in a position like this again was slim. It was clear he had no intention of staying. If he turned you down it wasn’t like you’d have to face your failure for long.

You pressed your lips closer to his neck and kissed it. He slid one of his hands under your shirt and rubbed the small of your back. His rough palm against your flesh felt superb. You kissed his neck once more before you started to suck on it, grazing his skin with your teeth. His breathing grew heavy.

“I have no idea what I’m doing,” he blurted out.

“What do you mean?” you asked, lips still pressed to his neck.

“I’ve never done anything like this.”

“It’s fine. I don’t care,” you said, grinding up against him.

“Really?”

“Yes,” you cooed.

You cupped his face in your hands and kissed him, catching his bottom lip between yours. Your noses awkwardly bumped up against each other. You forced him to tilt his head. You slipped your tongue into his mouth, teasing his. He eagerly reciprocated, rolling his tongue against yours. The kiss grew sloppier, more desperate. Drool trickled down your jaw.

You rubbed his exposed cocktip, swirling around the precum that leaked from it. He moaned in your mouth before breaking the kiss. He wasn’t able to quiet himself and you could listen to him whimper all night.

“You like that?”

“Yes,” he choked out, his eyes half-lidded.

You smirked and sucked your fingers clean.

“Lay on your back,” you purred.

He didn’t even hesitate as he swiftly moved into position. You pulled down the shorts you lent him and stared down his semi hard cock. You flicked your tongue against the tip.

He let out a pathetic moan. You looked up at him, your eyes meeting his. His brows were knitted in agony and he was trying to shut himself up with the back of his hand.

“You don’t need to be embarrassed,” you said while stroking the length of his cock.

You gently squeezed his balls and relished in another one of his pained moans. You guided his cock into your mouth and rolled your tongue against the underside of it. You bobbed your head, taking his cock deeper into your mouth. He groaned and bucked his hips. The sweet taste of precum coated your tongue. His cock was so leaky, so needy. He covered the entirety of his face with his hands.

 “It feels so good,” he panted, his voice muffled.

“Oh yeah?”

He nodded.

“You wanna fuck me?” you asked, arching your back.

He slightly sat up and looked down at you.

“Yes,” he whimpered.

You got up and straddled him. You wrapped your hand around his cock and rubbed it up against your throbbing clit. He grabbed a hold of your hips, his grip tight. Your legs felt like jelly as pleasure washed over you in waves. You lifted yourself up and slid his cock inside you.

“Oh my God,” he groaned as your cunt tightened around him.

The tip of his cock prodded your cervix, sending a shooting pain to your core.

“Ouch!!”

He sat up and cradled your face in his hands.

“What?! Are you okay?! What did I do?!”

“Too much too soon,” you said through gritted teeth. “But it’s fine. We—we’ll just take it slow.”

“Okay. Okay,” he repeated.

He lifted you off of his cock and gently rocked his hips, easing it back inside you.

“Perfect,” you moaned.

You matched his movements, careful not to jam the entirety of his cock into your cunt. You placed your hands on his chest, pinching his nipples between your fingers.

“Hey!”

“Sorry,” you laughed before biting his neck.

“Ke—keep doing it,” he stammered, caught up in a haze of ecstasy.

You again pinched his nipples, harder than you had before. You sucked on his neck, determined to leave behind a bruise, something to remember you by. His pace was becoming a little more urgent, his thrusts growing more intense.

“Gentle,” you groaned.

Your cunt was dripping with arousal.

“What would God think about this?” you asked. You bit down on your bottom lip and awaited his answer.

“I don’t want to think about it.”

“C’mon,” you begged, rocking your hips.

“He—He.” Vash took a deep breath. “He’d be really—shit—disappointed.”

“Would he send me to hell?”

“I don’t know,” he whined. “I can’t think about that right now.”

You tightened your cunt around his cock.

“But I wanna know. Tell me how bad I am.”

He buried his face in your neck. He clearly didn’t want to play along and you didn’t want to push it any further. His thrusts were picking up in speed as he bottomed out. His cock kissed your cervix, but it thankfully didn’t hurt this time around.

“Your cock feels so good,” you moaned.

He held you close and continued to fuck your aching cunt. You felt so light, body and soul. It was like you were ascending, leaving the world behind. You grabbed one of his hands and directed him to rub your clit. His touch was anything but gentle as he roughly pressed up against your sensitive bud.

“Fuck! Please, don’t stop.”

He was more than happy to obey. He kissed you as you came, swallowing your enraptured moans. He continued to thrust, your cum coating his cock. His groaning and whimpering overtook the room, the most heavenly symphony you experienced.

“Are you gonna come too?” you cooed in his ear.

“Uh-huh,” he panted.

“Wanna come inside me?” 

“Yeah,” he whined.

Vash bucked his hips and spurts of warm cum filled your cunt. He reclined, taking you down with him. He released you from his embrace and you rolled over onto your back.

“So… What did you think?”

“I liked it a lot. Maybe even too much.”

You giggled. “I’m glad.”

You glanced over at him and noticed he was staring at you with his big, puppy dog eyes.

“Can we cuddle?”

He nodded and laid on his side, spooning you. You dozed off, listening to his breathing and the rain tapping against the window. It was so peaceful, one of those moments you wanted to last a lifetime.

A loud roar cut through the air. You sprung up out of bed and covered your ears, desperate to block out the noise. It sounded like the unholy combination of a jet engine and a blaring trumpet. You felt like your head was splitting in two, like someone was smashing your skull with a mallet. You were consumed with dread, with guilt. You felt sick to your stomach.

You saw Vash sitting on the edge of your bed, staring out the window.

“What the hell is that? Was that a fucking trumpet?” you asked, rubbing your head.

“Don’t worry about it.”

You yawned. “I’m getting really sick of you saying that.”

He turned to look at you, his face pale like a ghost’s.

“Just go back to sleep.”

You reached out to him. “I need you near me to do that.”

He gave you a wistful smile and snuggled up beside you. You held onto him tight, hoping your grip would be strong enough to trap him. You didn’t want him to leave. You needed him to stay. He was in no position to wander around on his own, running from God knows what.

“Promise you’ll stay. For a little while at least.”

He was silent.

“Vash.”

His eyes were shut and he was lightly snoring. You prayed that he heard you before he fell asleep, that he would remember what you said and let you help him. There was no reason for him to carry his burden alone, whatever it might be.

That morning you were dismayed to see your grip had been too weak. He was gone. You got up out of bed and looked around, hoping he was in the bathroom or digging through your kitchen cabinets. But he was nowhere to be found. You wondered if he had ever been there in the first place. Maybe he was just a delusion, the beginnings of a religious frenzy triggered by mental collapse.

You returned to your bedroom, hoping to sleep away your misery, and saw a hastily written note on your nightstand.

I’m sorry I didn’t say goodbye. I knew leaving would be impossible if I waited for you to wake up. Please don’t take it personally. I wish I could sta

Thank you. For everything.

[newtsnaturethings]

screw it

lagomorphs your vashmeryl

[iwritenarrativesandstuff]

Trimax Thoughts Vol. 2 Pt. 2

Or, Wolfwood is a terrible liar and that's actually way more compelling than if he was good at it.

Wolfwood is quickly becoming one of my favourites in this series. I love a character with a good internal conflict who challenges the protagonist, and he's such a delightfully odd little critter of a man which makes him doubly enjoyable to me. He also causes me emotional damage, which kind of sealed the deal.

So, let's review what we know about his situation so far: He is, allegedly, a traveling priest, but his other job, the one he makes most of his money with, is some kind of dirty business (given the company of the Gung Ho Guns, it is likely as an assassin or a hired gun). Legato hired (?) him along with the rest of the GHG, and we know the fate of anyone who fails or tries to run. He knows this too - he can't leave. He's trapped. There was a two-year time-skip between Fifth Moon and his return in which he was searching for Vash, allegedly about the mass disappearances. We don't know fully what his current situation is, but given the GHG's continued orders, the recognition by Rai-Dei, and the way he knows way too much about Knives, it seems likely he is still stuck working for him - from here, it's still unclear what exactly his orders are, but it seems likely he is set up to betray or antagonize Vash later on.

This seems like it should be the set up for a character who has to lie constantly. Setting up smiles and earning the trust of their target. Their conflict about their mission vs their budding attachment being a deeply internalized struggle that slowly bubbles up to the surface as time goes on.

Wolfwood (kind of?) tries to do this, to be fair. But. He is so bad at it.

(Fair warning: this got LONG. I am sorry in advance.)

He is not a good liar. He doesn't even come up with a proper reason to explain his knowledge of Knives. He does not make any active effort to win Vash's trust. His internal conflict bleeds out of him to the surface almost right away and is glaringly obvious. He's just. So bad at not seeming suspicious. Here's the prime examples:

In his first appearance, he responds to Vash questioning how he makes money as a priest by practically admitting he has some kind of side job with a troubled and more serious expression than he's worn in the entire chapter (his eye is pale instead of dark here - take note of this btw this is important!). He doesn't even know Vash. Vash is some random stranger he just met on a bus. Why are you telling him this.

He reveals his giant cross is actually a giant gun with no lead up or warning whatsoever in front of a very startled Vash. He never explains why he is carrying around a giant cross-gun.

He says he's been looking for Vash for two years but the reason he gives is the mass disappearances, which only started six months ago.

He reveals that he knows way too much about Knives to not be associated with him in some way. Vash is obviously suspicious and asks about it, to which Wolfwood replies that he has a grudge against Knives and that he'd explain it later. ...he proceeds to never explain it.

Wolfwood gets annoyed when Vash says he's meeting with someone but it's a secret, to which Vash points out Wolfwood is hiding things too. Wolfwood just says "..." and. Does not deny this.

Wolfwood once again reveals he knows way too much about Knives. Vash is obviously suspicious by now and questions him again to which Wolfwood deflects in the most obvious way by changing the topic entirely and saying "Oh look a sandworm wow that's a big one!" Which. Does not fool Vash at all? That wouldn't fool anyone? You just made yourself more suspicious???????

Wolfwood and Rai-Dei clearly recognize each other. Vash is left looking between them in confusion while Wolfwood, once again, does not try to explain away anything - which would be a good thing to do, considering Rai-Dei is one of the Gung Ho Guns and he would probably want to... not imply any connection to them?

In short. What are you doing. What are you doing???

It's so funny to me because this is 100% an "I know/I know you know" kind of situation, and they could be playing mind games about this or leaning on that but instead they're just both blatantly ignoring the giant sandworm in the room. But it makes sense for these characters and is way more interesting in this case - after all, the core conflict so far revolves around second chances, and changing your life, and not killing so that people have a life to change. If Vash was unaware of the potential threat of Wolfwood, we could chalk a lot of his amicability with him up to ignorance, but we can't, because he isn't ignorant at all. This in turn makes Vash utterly confounding to Wolfwood, which makes his internal conflict not as much about the situation surrounding Vash, but about Vash himself, and what that may say about Wolfwood's own character.

Also, I personally think it's really fun to see how silly they are together in spite of all of this looming over them. Disagreeing on something so major as life and death coupled with Wolfwood's obvious suspiciousness - they really probably... shouldn't get along?

It's not a completely unfounded dynamic though. They met once, before Wolfwood knew that he was going to be made an enemy to Vash, and they clicked. Very easily. It was a brief meeting but it was impactful enough that Vash immediately recognizes him two years later.

And Wolfwood's eyes are dark when speaking with him.

Ok! Now I get to delve into the entire reason I wanted to make this post in the first place - it ties in firmly with Wolfwood being not great at lying or hiding his intentions.

Tristamp Vash voice: "You can see it in his eyes."

No. Seriously. The manga does some really interesting things with shading to draw attention to specific parts of a panel, such as shadowing entire faces to display rage or indicate "something to be afraid of", shading things in gray to emphasize them in the scene... and in Wolfwood's case, making his dark eyes look pale to indicate his emotional state, in what I have now taken to calling the "Wolfwood pale eyes of distress". I use distress to specifically encapsulate emotions like fear, desperation, feeling trapped, and internal conflict - strong, negative emotions that become more overwhelming the less control he has over a potentially threatening situation. Here's some examples:

So, yeah, his eyes are extremely expressive. Not only is he not a great liar, but his eyes pretty much always complement what he's feeling or saying - they give him away. Small wonder he's typically wearing sunglasses when interacting with people. Wolfwood appears to be somewhat aware of his eyes being giveaways... but I think he may have misinterpreted what exactly they reveal. He seems to think they reveal his darkness; the "devil" he's had to become. I can think of no other explanation for why his eyes are firmly shut in the nightmare sequence as soon as the kids run up to him.

^ This caused me immense pain btw. Not only is he keeping his eyes shut in front of the kids, he keeps that smile fixed on his face - the panel on the side is clearly internal. So he's... doubly hiding himself. He doesn't want to scare them, or for him to see the "monster" he's become so he smiles and acts like everything's fine even though he's pained. Hm. Sounds like... someone else we know...

However, what Vash sees is not some devil.

The ending of the Rai-Dei fight is when the budding conflict between Vash and Wolfwood reaches a breaking point. Interestingly, Wolfwood starts this fight without his glasses, but puts them on somewhere between Rai-Dei mentioning the Gung Ho Guns know where Vash's home is and Wolfwood deciding to interfere - which really means aiming to kill Rai-Dei. It's interesting he should take the time to put them back on like that. It doesn't really matter though, because we see his eyes anyways as he shoots Rai-Dei dead.

Ah yes. The eyes of a man completely unaffected and not at all bothered by the act of killing. Note the paleness again. They're like that all the way through this scene. The glasses do manage to cover his eyes in the next bit where he proceeds to shoot Rai-Dei again three more times. Hard to read his expression here but I'm assuming he went somewhat blank. He mentions later that he shoots twice in the head, twice in the heart - this was probably a "finishing of the job"; he's on autopilot - and so he doesn't actually react at first when Vash punches the glasses right off his face.

My actual reaction when I read this: OH???????

The glasses are off now. His cover is gone. And Wolfwood goes "to hell with it" and all but reveals that he's probably going to be a future threat to Vash.

Wolfwood takes the gun he just used to kill Rai-Dei, presses it into Vash's hand, aims it at his own head and tells Vash to shoot. Now, disregarding the fact that this is such a normal thing to do (sarcasm...), the intention here is pretty obvious. Wolfwood genuinely thinks that someone has to die for others to live, and because Vash won't kill, he believes he is the one who has to do so. If Vash would face threats with lethal intent, if he would dirty his own hands, then Wolfwood would trade his life - but they both know Vash won't shoot. However, I'm not sure if Wolfwood consciously realizes what he all but admitted here - pointing the gun at his own head, "so you won't hesitate to take out the next man who gets in your way"... they've both been dancing around the issue of Wolfwood's suspiciousness but here he might as well have said "I'm a threat. You know I'm probably a threat. Why don't you defend yourself? How can you be this naïve?" And all the while he's making full eye contact - probably expecting to have revealed that darkness within him. But Vash does not see Wolfwood as a devil. He sees him as playing the role of one. Vash is upset with Wolfwood here, but he's also upset for Wolfwood. Vash sees right through him to his inner conflict and pain, the same way Wolfwood saw through Vash to his pain.

Backtracking a bit.

Remember how I commented close to the beginning of this that Wolfwood's eyes are dark when he speaks with Vash again after two years? The way the conflict builds between them is really interesting too, because it doesn't really start as an argument (or at least, that's not how I took it).

I think I saw someone on here commenting on how funny it is that Wolfwood is expositing Plants to Vash, which is for the reader's benefit probably, but is still an interesting way to segue into the moral conflict that will characterize them in future.

Explaining the Plant and resulting conflict in straightforward terms. "We've had this talk already." Stating what he sees as simple truths of the world bluntly but not unkindly. Rapping on the door and wanting to finish the earlier conversation, and suddenly I realized "wait. wait."

He's. It's almost like he's trying to teach him. Like one would explain things to a child who doesn't yet understand the world's harsh realities. Which is so funny for so many reasons.

For one, Vash... plays along? Just because, I guess? Look at that intense look of concentration while Wolfwood educates him about what Plants do. He is being very attentive and listening really hard. Also, the next part too is just...

Vash, sniffling: "Why do things like this have to happen?" :'(

Hjdhfdjhb??? (Like he definitely is genuinely upset but it's not like he doesn't understand... the little pout after too...)

For another, I'm so fascinated that Wolfwood initially decides that Vash must just not understand the ways of the world because like. He's seen his scars before. He can see Vash's scars in this very scene. You can't chalk that up to naivete... but if it isn't that, then Wolfwood can't understand it, so he leans into this interpretation, despite having to know that it's wrong.

For as much as this sounds kind of condescending of him, I don't think he really intends it that way - he may think the pacifism is naïve, but he doesn't actually see Vash as a child. It may be somewhat automatic for him to approach it this way, because I'm assuming Wolfwood's positive interactions are mainly with children, and again, I don't think he's trying to start an argument here. He wants answers out of Vash, because Vash confuses him, and, after Fifth Moon, scares him too.

When he finds Vash again two years later, his eyes are dark, not pale. He's not scared of Vash in that scene, not the same way he was when he witnessed the Fifth Moon event. He greets him on fairly friendly terms and seems decently comfortable around him - enough to laugh at him, scold him, and share/fight over food. But there is still that moment of trepidation, where Wolfwood carefully brings up Fifth Moon and is clearly trying to gauge Vash's reaction. This is the random guy he met on a bus two years ago who seemed human enough. This is also the same guy he witnessed blow a crater into a moon, revealing himself to be something much more powerful and inhuman than he could understand. I believe a lot of this early questioning - the poking and prodding at Vash's morals, the watching to see what he'll do, is Wolfwood's attempt to reconcile these very conflicting views.

Unfortunately, instead of his questions and challenges clarifying things, they only muddy the waters further for him. Vash's actions, that kind of selfless-looking pacifism, is completely unexplainable by his current worldview - worse, the continued survival of Vash's pacifism directly conflicts with it. As Wolfwood's inner conflict is uncomfortably forced to the forefront of his mind where he spent his whole life repressing it, Vash becomes more unsettling to him, and the moral conflict, which started as an attempt to understand and question becomes confrontational. Vash's no-killing philosophy should not be possible to maintain, and Wolfwood responds by becoming more reactive and terrified.

When thinking later, he straight up says he's never seen someone put other's lives above their own. He nearly died as a child and the only thing that saved him was raw survival instinct. He's had to fend for himself. No one came to help. No wonder he doesn't have much hope. He thinks that to be human is to eventually succumb to the harshness of the world and to join that never ending cycle of violence (no matter how much he hates it) - notably though, he's not like Knives, who believes that humans are born bad. Rather, he seems to believe that people become corrupted, are forced to become "devils", over time and due to the inhospitable world they have to struggle to survive in. If he really believed humans were inherently bad, he wouldn't try to hide his eyes and bloodied hands from the kids (innocent!). It's why he can recognize Rai-Dei and the rest of the GHG as human, even when it's claimed they have given up their humanity. To Wolfwood, that in itself is just a part of being human.

Funnily enough, it is Vash's kindness surviving against all odds that cements him as something inhuman in Wolfwood's mind. And not only does seeing Vash as something not-human bring back some of the terror he felt during the Fifth Moon Incident, but it also puts Wolfwood in a very uncomfortable position of having the necessity of his darker actions be called into question. Vash is now threatening. And Wolfwood starts to respond to that threat in the way that is most natural for him.

There's some extra complications here too though - Wolfwood definitely cares about Vash too, at least to some extent. Their first meeting had none of this baggage, and Wolfwood expresses some worry about Vash's smiles not being genuine. They fall into a pretty natural, easy dynamic after one meeting and a two-year gap. He also shows a level of protectiveness really early on - that was the purpose of my funny little counter I did on a previous thoughts post, but let's look at this particular instance right here:

Return of pale eyes Wolfwood, who is genuinely concerned and pissed off. At first I assumed that Wolfwood was running to go after the still-present threat of Keele but the next time we see them, Vash is getting patched up and Wolfwood is standing in the room with him - the part where Wolfwood is running there is him trying to get medical help. This is not even bringing up the part after where he pulls out the tobasco sauce. (As an addition, it's also the last time he calls him "Vash" instead of "needle-noggin" - endearing nickname, or an attempt to distance himself? Who knows. Not Wolfwood, I'm sure.)

I do wonder if Wolfwood focused on some of the commonalities between them at first to attempt to bridge the gap between his conflicting images of Vash - I am not sure whether he's... well... self-aware enough to recognize that he also hides pain behind a smile and a pair of glasses, but they both sure are in uncomfortable positions of being wielded as weapons by Knives. The panel where Wolfwood tells Vash Knives is on the move again while he is superimposed directly below the spike jutting out of Knives' chest drives me insane. The threat of death looming over him like that. He’s trapped. Then there's the witnessing of the Fifth Moon incident, in which Vash's arm was quite literally hijacked and control taken away from him. Now, I understand this is mostly my assumption here but I don't think it's entirely unfounded - Wolfwood's expression when he watches this is a bit more detailed than the rest of the GHG, who mostly look shocked or scared - he looks that way too but there's also a furrowing of the brow that complicates the expression. Vash is screaming. Wolfwood's previous lamenting of the cycle of violence he's trapped in happens on the heels of realizing he'll be working against Vash. And when he finds him again, he's certainly wary, but not accusatory. I do think, terrified as he was by the implications of what Vash and Knives are and that sheer level of power, he does understand that Vash was being used and not in control of himself. I expect this is probably why he took the "grudge against Knives" angle - he recognizes Vash's anger and says "me too" - drawing a line of commonality between them.

But as the gap widens and Vash demonstrates clear differences that are unexplainable or otherwise threatening to Wolfwood, he becomes more discomforted and antagonistic as a result.

It all boils over after the Rai-Dei fight. At first, Wolfwood doesn't interfere in the fight because a) he knows Vash is competent, and b) he's a jerk sometimes and clearly thought him having a gunfight against a swordsman was funny. But that changes when it's revealed the GHG have located and are going to target Vash's home. The sunglasses get slipped back on. That's the point at which Wolfwood starts to go for his gun. Vash has turned deadly serious, and has told Rai-Dei to get out of his way, and Wolfwood probably assumed that this would be the exception to the rule - that's what he keeps saying, after all, that people will kill to defend those they love.

Instead, Vash tells Wolfwood to stay out of it, knowing he is intending to shoot Rai-Dei, and I do think that's the moment the conflict went from disagreement to actual anger.

What Wolfwood is not seeing is that Vash doesn't kill to defend the memory of someone he loved. That's not information Wolfwood is privy to, so while they are both protective people, the way they go about protecting is entirely different, and it's been there since the beginning.

This is a really cute scene, first of all. He's good with those kids. He crouches down to their level, splits the coins up evenly between them. It's kind of like saying "we're in this together"... and it's notably very different from what Vash does - that distance he maintains, and the way he probably would've given everything. Wolfwood keeps some for himself. As he puts it, for the sake of the orphanage kids, he has to stay alive, and that means prioritizing some lives above others, something that Vash refuses to do. But I think Wolfwood misunderstands that Vash sacrifices so much not because he "isn't human and therefore can", but because doggedly pursuing Rem's ideals and protecting humanity from Knives is just about the only thing keeping him going. Wolfwood doesn’t understand that Vash needs to believe that kindness exists in people’s hearts because he cannot understand how one could go on living otherwise.

Neither of them really have lives of their own, nor do they value themselves much. But they both continue to survive out of dedication to the paths they’ve chosen. Wolfwood kills to save the living - specifically, the kids and now Vash (it also assures he has a reason to keep fighting for his own survival - he can’t protect them if he’s dead). Vash refuses to kill to preserve the memory of someone who has died, Rem (again, this assures his survival, at least to a certain point - he can’t stop Knives if he’s dead). There’s something really interesting in that contrast, that leads them both to a “better me than them” mentality - Wolfwood the role of the weapon and Vash the role of the shield. But either way, this is, I think, why it’s hard for them to understand where the other is coming from at times, even though they see each other’s pain so clearly. These are worldviews they stick to stubbornly, born out of trauma; their respective ways of processing their continued survival from all that has happened to them.

Wolfwood is afraid to die, but he also has no hope for himself. While deeply conflicted by his actions, he has to believe there is necessity to them. So when Vash is confronting him, telling him he’s been crying out against the role he’s taken on this entire time, it shakes him, because he’s pushed all that down for so long, and it’s true. And I think he wants to believe that Vash’s sentiment is possible, but to him it just seems like false hope, even if he doesn’t want to be hurting people either. But if Vash is right, then that is even more distressing. It means that maybe he didn’t have to become a “devil”. That justifying the use of lethal force by necessity was never a justification at all. He goes from sinner with a cause to just a sinner. In that sense, him taking his own gun and putting it in Vash’s hand, aiming it at his own head and telling him to shoot if he really thinks he’s wrong… it reads as a punishment.

Not a bit of this would’ve been as effective if we were left to wonder about the characters’ intentions. Wolfwood being a bad liar, or really, not bothering to lie much, is interesting character wise and focuses the conflict on his and Vash’s internal persons and motives, rather than the external situation. I find it works much better to highlight Trigun’s themes that have cropped up so far.

Ok. I’m going to stop here because this is very long. Holy shit sorry. I just really like his character a lot and I’m excited to see where this conflict goes. They both raise some really good points that are difficult to reconcile.

I hope this actually made sense lol. We’ll see if it holds up when I get further into the manga.

[crabcasino]

i started reading the manga and made a folder for various vashes. like collecting critters really