#late wolfwood wednesday

[naiives]

short vashwood comic bc i’m having intense artblock

[simonsezsewart]

Some Miku-afied Vashwood…

as a treat…

Alt versions + Miku jumpscare below:

Lmaooo he looks so silly but I love him 😭

Lowkey need to cosplay Psi-Miku one day…

Fr tho I HIGHLY recommend checking out the music videos on yt, they go hard af 🔥🔥

God-ish — PinocchioP

Psi — R-906

[cryofoxx]

I may be a simp, but i am free

[serpentineshine]

Trimax Wolfwood? In my toonboom margins?? I don't know what you're talking about...

[renardsruses]

Woowoo, it’s Wednesday

[nowfallc]

"𝐓𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐢𝐧'𝐬, 𝐈 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦"

-

Happy Wolfwood Wednesday (with some hours late )

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Im happy that my friend was able to grab more pics because hey , summer wolfwood is still on point ! and i wanted to craft my own gun with cardboard for Nicholas because i wasnt able to bring the punisher in the last con , hope you like those new shoots !

[caro-x-x-x]

Correct me if I'm wrong, but the Trigun Fandom has weekly events: Wolfwood Wednesday and Stampede(less) Saturday.

They are really great! But I want to add something to that - as a personal all-year-challenge for myself, but maybe others want to join too - and decided on a Shitpost Sunday :)

The first Sunday is already over, but I was punctual on 'X'/Twitter (if you want to find me: https://x.com/justme_Caro?t=0zlq1aon-Vmemn8q0iJmlw&s=09), and so imma just post it here a bit late.

Here's the first Trigun Shitpost Sunday 2024:

And, if course, the reference

[fytenn]

HAPPY LATE WOLFWOOD WEDNESDAY

[soranker]

for the wolfwood doodle thing... it's maid day sooooo (it's over for me in eight minutes but who cares! it still counts)

CAN NEVER BE TOO LATE 🫡 HAPPY WOLFWOOD WEDNESDAY

[roserocksrapidly]

Happy wolfwood wednesday, thinking about trimax vol 10 Wolfwood apologizing for calling Vash's smile empty. There's the more straightforward reading of Wolfwood saying "I'm sorry for calling you a hypocrite. It was wrong for me to say *all* of your principles were wrong or doomed to failure. Your actions, like your smiles, were not empty." BUT. I think there's another juicy vashwood brain rot induced reading of this scene where Wolfwood isn't just apologizing for calling Vash's smiles empty, he's apologizing for the VERY ACT of calling Vash out to begin with. More specifically, he's sorry for poking at Vash's carefully constructed facade and breaking it down enough to get to know the real Vash. He's sorry that they've become "so close on such a deep level" BECAUSE HE KNEW THEY WOULD END UP HERE. Wolfwood KNEW he was doomed for tragedy, even if he dared to hope a little through Vash's influence, and knew that he would inevitably break Vash's heart. So he apologizes for having made that first step to go beyond surface level friendship to begin with. And Vash's response of "don't ask for something so unreasonable/don't say something stupid" could then mean "don't ask me to smile sincerely when I'm about to lose you. Don't apologize for having gotten close to me when I've already been irrevocably changed because of you. It's too late to ask me to move on from you so easily." Just.... 🤲 trimax vol 10 🥺

[rupkin]

for woo woo wednesday ~

my idea for a late teen/early 20s wolfwood if he was able to age normally

[cinsketches]

“Hey, you gonna hold this?”

Happy (late) Wolfwood Wednesday :3

[spacebeyonce]

I come bearing wip wednesday. the usual wip. a lil bit of flirting.

The bar was as crowded as ever, voices rising and falling like a wave; a few eyes turned their way when they entered, and while most looked away, there were some whose eyes stayed on them, lingering -- on her. It was startling, the sudden weight of those eyes, eyes that barely looked twice the night before, and Meryl starts to take a step back, but is stopped by a warm hand pressing into the small of her back. Meryl's head snaps up, and she finds Vash closer than she expected, hovering over her as he stared back at all the eyes that lingered, prolonged, until they turned away.

When his eyes turn to her, they're warm, and he smiles. "Let's go sit," he offers, and she tries not to shiver at the feel of his thumb brushing lightly against her back. There's a burst of laughter over by the bar, forcing Meryl to break eye contact to turn towards the noise; she finds Wolfwood, sitting by the bar and chatting up the person sitting next to him. Her eyes search across the bar as Vash leads her to a table, automatic, until she finds Roberto, sitting at one of the tables by the windows and writing in his little notebook, flipping between pages. She notices the empty glass by his elbow and sighs, annoyed, and he must have felt his eyes on him, because Roberto raises his head, looking her right in the eye. His eyes move back and forth between her and Vash, taking in how close they were to each other, and he lets out a sigh so deep Meryl could almost hear it over the noise, shaking his head and raising a hand to get the barkeep's attention.

Meryl sucks on her teeth, displeased, and the noise catches Vash's attention, his eyes sliding over to where she was looking. He laughs quietly at the sight of the barkeep placing a full glass of whisky at Roberto's side, "guess stealing his flask didn't work, huh?"

They're at their table, now -- a spot by the windows, tucked in the more shadowy corners of the bar; Vash pulls out a chair for her, and gestures for Meryl to sit. "All that drinking is why he looks so old," she grumbles, sitting down, "he's gonna die from pickling his liver so much! And - and he took away our second rest day because I took his dumb flask!" She huffs in outrage, the gust of air blowing her bangs away from her forehead, "see if I keep trying to protect his health, that grumpy old man."

There was a scrape of wood, Vash pulling his own chair back, and he takes a seat next to her, which makes her grumbling stop short. The chair creaks quietly under his weight, and Meryl blinks rapidly at him as he rests his elbow on the table, cupping his chin in hand as he smiles. Her thoughts fly away, quicker than a candle flame going out, and she tries to remember what she'd been grumbling about in the first place as, once again, the reality of just how big Vash is washes over her. She's been wondering, lately, if the jacket he wears is supposed to make him appear smaller; it doesn't really work, in her opinion -- to her, it only emphasizes the width of his shoulders, the narrowness of his waist --

Meryl knows she's blushing, now -- she can feel it under her skin, prickly and itchy. She licks her lips, the skin suddenly feeling dry. "What are you staring for?" She asks, trying not to fidget. Vash's smile widens.

"You look nice," he says, repeating what he said at the inn, "I'm just enjoying the view is all."

Meryl feels the blush crawling down her neck, and she scoffs, silently scolding herself over how quick she's folded as she sharply turns her head, looking outside. "Flatterer," she mumbles, "keep trying and maybe you'll get somewhere."

"I hope so."

There was something in his voice, as he said that -- it made the hairs on her neck stand on end, a full body shiver running through her as she shifts in place, her attempt at looking unaffected dead in the water before she could even try. "A lot of talking up and no follow through," she quips, turning her head enough to cut him a look, "I see a lot of chatting up and not a lot of dinner. Isn't that why we're here?"

"Can't I do both?" Vash shoots back, but he raises a hand, a silent call for the barkeep's attention

[kidsomeday]

Quite late, but if you're still doing WIP Wednesday asks, I'd like to request Medieval Magic Vashwood Thing please!

IT'S BEEN SINCE NOVEMBER BUT I FINALLY GOT AROUND TO THIS ASK. Imagine me cackling wildly as I post this. Anyway thank you for your endless patience and for this ask.

-

Vash, predictably, won at losing, forcing Wolfwood into one victory and a few more scores higher than his. The fact that he was able to do it while pretending like he was paying zero attention to the game was as impressive as it was frustrating. On the upside, it did mean that Wolfwood had a clearer picture of his abilities, which was an overall win for him. Millie handily won the last hand. Wolfwood glanced over to see if it was in any way arranged, but Vash gave a subtle shake of his head. That pleased him more than he expected. There was something oddly satisfying about the overall winner of the game being the one person who cared the least about it. Meryl struck up an intense debate with Roberto after the game, challenging a play he had made. Wolfwood thought it was sort of petty, until he caught the smile on her face. Millie rolled her eyes affectionately, and she Vash disappeared into the kitchen to grab some snacks. It seemed post game debates were a traditional part of game night. 

[dk-wren]

WIP Wednesday! - 12/7

Someday I'll post this at a decent time but it won't be today! Anyways, here's this week's wip! Excited to share what I've been working on over the past week as I attempt my first Trigun fic!

Perhaps it is due to the craftsman who carved the headstone, or the stone itself, or the person who regularly visits and takes care of it, but Vash has no trouble finding one tombstone in particular amongst the sea of fading and cracked ones. Almost like he is walking on a predetermined path, Vash stops right in front of a headstone that is slightly larger than the surrounding ones, and one that still bears its name, “Nicholas D. Wolfwood.” “Morning, Nick,” greets Vash sweetly. “Sorry for being a tad late. Had to help Lina and Sheryl out with a quick predicament. Also, you wouldn’t believe the traffic getting out of town now. It’s truly growing in size and no longer staying some ancient city.” Vash puts the flowers off to the side as he begins to unfurl the blanket, placing it right in front of Wolfwood’s headstone. He then lowers himself to sit in the center of it before turning to the side to grab the bouquet, which he now rests in his lap. “Good to know someone’s coming by and cleaning up the flowers. Keeping your space clean, am I right?” Vash lets out a soft laugh before continuing on, “Hopefully someone is just coming by to get rid of the old ones and not stealing them from you, Nick. But, if someone is, I at least hope they can appreciate their beauty.” The next few minutes are spent with Vash dusting off any remaining petals or leaves from the last batch of flowers he brought. Then, he begins to unwrap the flowers he brought on this trip to the cemetery, carefully separating each type of flower he bought and untangling their stems from one another. “It’s nice getting to just sit and talk with you, being sorta out in nature. Still feels peaceful and calming to me. Wish you were able to say something back to me though, Nick. That would make it perfect. It’s crazy how used to the quiet I’ve become. The sounds of gunshots, of angry mobs, of chaos in the street…it all feels so foreign to me. Like I’ve only heard about the past and didn’t live through it. I don’t know, it’s…strange? Yeah, strange. Not having to constantly be on high alert, watching my surroundings or keeping an eye on my back. Sometimes it makes me forget about who I really am. It makes me feel human…like I’m normal. I know it still would have been impossible even if you survived that fight, but…you really deserve to see Gunsmoke today. It’s changed so much and I wish, no, I want you here, right by my side, so badly, to experience all the new things with me.” At that, Vash begins to adorn Wolfwood’s headstone with the flowers.

Thanks for reading! Any comments/edits are appreciated!

-Dakota Wren

(Also, while I'm only about halfway through with writing this fic, I think I may eventually need the help of a beta reader. If you're interested or know someone who might be, please reach out (I can also provide more info about the fic if you're potentially interested)! Thank you again!)

[kidsomeday]

Vashwood Week Day 6 for the WIP Game, please! Because your snippet was very compelling, and I'd like to see more!

A very late WIP Wednesday response thanks getting struck by the Doom Fatigue. Vashwood Week Day 6 "Wolfwood was old enough to realize that being an orphan meant he was missing something important in his life, but too young to cope with it. So he did what most children do in situations where they feel too much but don’t know why: he sat down and sobbed. He would remember the crying distantly, but mostly what he remembers is one of the older children sitting down next to him and pulling him in close."