#scholar vash

[bedtimegiraffe]

So much happened in the last chapter, this beautiful little moment went over my head until just now-

Wow, Tyril has evolved a lot! Like, obviously I knew that, but this line really hit for me.

The confident assertion that obviously the world is complicated! The implied defense of Aerin! The belief that people deserve second chances and using Shadow doesn't mean you're evil!

I think part why this got me is that this must have been Tyril's first thought. They're all arguing over each other, there's no time to come up with long, flowery contemplations like he normally would. When these conversations come up, it usually feels like Tyril's been thinking about it for a while. But not here. Tyril is no longer trying so hard to integrate new information into his worldview.

Tyril just... believes it.

[distraughtlesbian]

another reason that i think kade should’ve gotten the shadow burns regardless of how well you do in the bk1 final battle is the amazing beautiful fascinating brilliant implications of his survival and vash’s death. logically i know that kade probably survived because he got light-fuelled medical attention basically immediately and vash was posted up in the woods with a bunch of 20something yr old idiots with 1 crumb of healing knowledge (nia’s healing skill and mc’s possible knowledge of herbalism) between them. but TO ME the conclusion of kade surviving and remaining mostly mentally/emotionally stable and retaining the use of his eye and arm and ear is that vash the light priest killed himself rather than live visibly impure/corrupted

[uselessgay10101]

I learned two things with this:

I was damn pissed I wasn't allowed to use my Mcs many skills to fight this mf

There's no more Shadow!Nia..

So...

[masked-alien-lesbian]

.......well damn...

[novasintheroom]

Touch me gently (Vash x Reader)

♡ Pairing - Vash x Reader

♡ Word count - 3k

♡ Warnings - mentions of having future children at the end

♡ Description: A drabble of various touches between you and Vash the Stampede as your relationship grows.

Part of the 150 Bullets drabble series on AO3 (separated into different chapters, as indicated in brackets)

Hands (056. Turn)

Neither of you are very touchy people.

Vash because he has to be careful.

You because you’ve never liked it.

It suits you both fine; neither of you signed on to the job to be touchy.

The boss wants a survey of a nearby gulch and valley. Hopes to find some good land for investment – water or oil or to build some new town with his name. You, the cartographer for the job. Vash, one of your hired bodyguards. The other two men look the part – grizzled, tough. Mercs. Vash stands out with his frame, the bold red coat. Still a merc, but he looks at you kindly, and you take to him as only a nervous scholar can. Some kind of comfort, if only in your head.

You shake the bodyguards’ hands. Vash’s is warm and a little clammy. You turn and do your best to not stare at the old-tech arm at his side. How curious, still.

/~*~\

Arms (053. Emporium)

The town square is full of life.

The other two mercs have gone off elsewhere to find booze or girls or bullets. Vash weaves on ahead. Always light on his feet, careful to dodge stray hands and still looking at everything with a smile. He’s careful to keep you in the corner of his eye. He loves this. He loves people. He’s in his element – one of them, anyway.

You, little scholar, are not. The crowds push in on the emporium – marketeers hocking their wares and greedy eyes follow your steps. You keep one hand on your purse. All walks of life brush past, children running around, toma pulling carts and calling out. Something lets out a boom, and there’s cheering down the street. Colored smoke rises from a stall with a dizzying aroma. It’s overwhelming, it’s more than you’re used to.

“Vash!” You call out. He doesn’t hear you.

Quiet halls with old paper and ink. The shuffle of pages, someone reading their research under their breath. Old tech flickering to life with a hum. Echoed rooms and soft music playing. That’s where you belong. That’s your safe space. Your element is so far away in this press.

A group of women pass between you and Vash. You lose sight of him. It’s jarring, how used to that red you’ve become, looking at it for some sort of comfort. He’s further ahead now, looking at a stall selling old tech baubles. You reach for him, that beacon of red, catching the crook of his arm and weaving your own through before you can think, before you can lose him again. He stills and looks down at you. Your jaw sets, your cheeks flush with embarrassment. You glance up, and ask with a look, Is this okay? Please let it be okay.

And he thinks for a moment. His heart warms. Squeezing your arm with his own, he pulls you closer to his side as you both step back into the throng. Yeah, it’s okay.

/~*~\

Feet (033. Trampoline)

Five months into knowing Vash, and you’re at his heels more than you ever were at your mother’s. Mostly to keep him out of trouble, but still.

The backs of his heels meet the sky more times than any grown man’s should. Summersaulting through the air to escape bullets, grabbing hands, the loss of freedom. You dog at him the entire time, your own feet pounding, pounding, pounding to keep up.

Vash meets the edge of a building, and he cries out, arms pinwheeling to keep him up. You lunge, snagging his ankles as he pitches forward. His weight pulls you, and you both fall. Luckily – as Vash’s luck often goes, metronoming from one extreme to the other – you land on a market stall’s tarped ceiling, bouncing once, twice, a makeshift trampoline. Now both of your feet are reaching for the sky.

Vash’s breath comes in and out like bellows. Yours isn’t better. In the distance, you hear shouts, screams, cries from the mob trying to hunt down the Humanoid Typhoon. You know you need to move. The stall owner is peering up at you strangely from beneath his tarp.

Still, Vash finds the time to look over at you and say, “You shouldn’t have done this.” ‘This’ meaning follow him, of course. A tired argument at this point, like he can’t get enough of saying it.

And you, you know you shouldn’t have. You have no business following an outlaw like him. Scholars stay hidden in their nooks and crannies and don’t do things like jump from building-to-building chasing after that waving red flag. You should focus on being a librarian, hand out books to word-starved children, build the world into a better place. Be who you should be.

You look back at him, a moment of stillness settling in your bones. “And let you have all the fun?” You shake your head. “No.”

A spark of something in his eyes. Clarity? Realization? He won’t tell you to this day, but his lips quirk up, and he drags you off the tarp and down to the ground. You both race off, leaving the bewildered shop keep staring after your dwindling figures.

/~*~\

Stomach (001. Trust)

It’s been a long day. The winds howl at the mouth of the cave, spitting dust and bits of sand like an angry cat. You and Vash set up camp deep within.

Dark with only a small electric lantern at your side, it’s hard to see the ink in your book. You don’t want to sit up to look at it, though. You squint. Vash finishes laying out his sleeping bag at your feet. He’s already set up some line and sound trap measures at the cave’s opening. No one needs to keep watch tonight.

 “We should get you a new book in the next town,” Vash says idly, “that one has pages falling out of it.”

 An old topic of chatter. “That’s because it’s well-loved,” you hum.

“You’re going to love it to death.”

You smile and raise the book to look at him. He’s set up near your legs, getting his sleeping bag ready and as comfortable as it can get on a stone floor. “Trust me,” you laugh. “I’d rather have it go like that than –“

And suddenly, he scoots up and puts his head on your stomach. A little pillow to use instead of his coat. You’re shocked, finger holding your place in the book as you look his way. He peaks back, a shy glint of blue in the lamplight. Is this okay?

Please let it be okay.

His head bounces when you laugh. You return to your book and knock his head gently with your other hand. Yeah, it’s okay.

/~*~\

Shoulders (082. Warmth)

His broad shoulders are distracting.

Burning white and too-hot already, the morning suns accentuate the curve of his neck, the slope of his back, tapering to a slim waist. Vash curls into a yoga pose in the shade of the outcropping, stretching his muscles and limbering up his joints. He’s shed his coat for the moment. Even he feels the heat today.

You feel a different heat. One you’re trying to not freak out over.

Since when has he been that built?

Your mind scrambles to get ahold of itself. That’s your friend, you think, chiding the rampant girlish thoughts of Holy Hannah, he’s hot.

Of course he’s also hot. Of course! It’s not enough that he’s kind to a fault and genuinely funny. And cute. His face is very cute. You purse your lips and force yourself to stare down at your notebook. You almost gag when you notice you’ve been doodling his figure this entire time, rather than writing notes of your latest escapade from town.

What are you, a schoolgirl?

Guiltily, you look up and watch him stretch his arms to the sky, from one side to the next. His eyes are dull, thoughts turned inward. You trace his shoulders again. They aren’t perfectly rounded – more square, and there are things underneath that slightly bulge and catch on his shirt when he moves. You eye those parts, wondering what it is that makes those shapes.

What’s under there?

Blue eyes suddenly flick to you, and you’re caught red-handed staring. But Vash, ever forgiving, ever one to give someone the benefit of the doubt, gives you a sincere smile. “Why don’t you join me? It could help!”

A blush’s warmth crawls up your back. Help? With what? “Oh,” you say aloud, realizing he means your own limberness needs some work. “Well, sure,” comes out before you think about it, and you put your notebook on your bag, padding over to him on bare feet.

He smiles, dimples in his cheeks. “Do you know how to do the cobra pose?” He’s testing the waters, unsure of how much you know. Vash lays flat on his stomach and bends his body upward. You follow him, feeling your abs and shoulders stretching. “Breathe in…and out…”

And that’s how it goes for a while; Vash teaching you new and old yoga poses, and you trying not to ogle your friend. Not what you expected today – but when does living with Vash ever turn out the way you expected?

/~*~\

Lips (097. Sinking)

The first time, it’s an accident.

You’re both pressed into a crevice in a canyon, fleeing a large worm set on making you its meal. The rock digs into your spine, and Vash is squished to your front, trying to be the shield. The worm screams and screams and breaks against the crack. Pebbles and sand rain down from above.

Vash leans down and shouts, “I think - !! – should – “

“What?!” You scream back.

Vash lowers his head just as you stretch to hear better. Your lips touch, his moving with his message and yours open in terror. Even then, you note how chapped his lips are. “We need to climb!” He starts climbing the sheer rock wall that shakes with every shove of the worm. All you can do is follow.

The second time is a coincidence.

It’s a dance at a bar. One of the many you and Vash have been to. Line dancing, dancing with partners, dancing alone – all on the docket. It happens when he’s leading you down the clapping line, cheek to cheek. He’s singing with the song, leading you back and forth and getting the crowd laughing with how he spins and twirls you, then how you dip him like a lady. You nearly drop him. He screams like a girl. You both lurch toward the other and your lips collide.

The crowd roars in approval, even if it only lasted half a second. There’re pats on the back, winks from the ladies, before you’re shoved back in line and the incident is moved to the back of everyone’s mind in favor of more drink and dancing. Vash’s cheeks flush every time your eyes meet.

“Sorry about that,” he says later, when you’re both stumbling to your rooms and the noise downstairs has died down. His hand is to his neck. Bashful. “You know, the whole…” he gestures with his hand, moving it from his mouth to yours in the air.

“No, I, uh – no, it’s fine,” you stammer, feeling your own heat of embarrassment. But you laugh to ease the tension, “Hey, best kiss I’ve ever had!” Your jaw snaps shut, teeth rattling, and before you can say anything else, you flee into your room with a squeaky “Goodnight!” following the door slam.

Vash flushes, staring at your door. His heart thuds in his ribcage, quick and bright. He lets out a chuckling sigh and goes to his own room. The motions of changing to pajamas, brushing his teeth, and cleaning his face is a soft blur. When he’s finally lying in bed, a hoarse giggle escapes, hands fisting the blankets and turning his head into the pillow to hide his smile from the moonlight.

The third time is a damn shame.

You’re nestled in the crook of his arm, both of your legs hanging off a ledge as you sit on the side of a porched building. Your stomachs are full for once, merriment of your hosts tucked away in their house as you take a moment to yourselves. Another damsel in distress saved. Another day lived.

A content sigh slides out of you, and you rest further on his shoulder. You’ve borrowed a blanket from the lady of the house, wrapped around your shoulders to fight off the chill of night. The last of the suns sets. Everything is blue and quiet.

“You getting cold?” He murmurs, wrapping you closer to his side, opening his coat wider to allow you in.

You smile at his voice. “Nah, you’re a furnace. I dunno how you stand the heat.”

You’re close again. Too close. Always too close, Vash thinks, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. It brings your eyes to his, and there’s a sudden something between you.

He can’t ignore the look in your eyes. The love there. But he buries his own echo of it deep and wonders, why me? Why would you pick me?

Still, he leans forward.

Still, you do the same.

And just as your lips brush, just as he feels the warmth of your breath fan over him –

– someone opens the door of the house and calls out, “Vash, ______, get back in here before the little worms getcha!”

You two spring apart like you’re both on fire. Maybe you are. An “Oh!” falls from your host’s lips, and she hides inside in embarrassment.

A coiling, sinking feeling rests in Vash’s chest. He isn’t sure what to call it. It feels close to regret, maybe indignation? Embarrassment? It’s hard to look at you. His ears are burning. When he finally peaks over, he sees you do the same. You both look away quickly. “Uh, uhm,” he says, then clears his throat, “they’re probably starting the games. We should – “

“ – yeah, we should.” You nod, standing and twirling around to retreat. But, you stop, seeming to catch your cowardice and glance at him. Hesitantly, you offer your hand out.

Vash looks at your hand. How many times have you offered it to him now? Too many, he thinks. But you always do so willingly. He takes your hand and stands, following you back into the house, the feeling of your breath entwining with his still on his mind.

Damn shame indeed.

/~*~\

Nose (107. Sigh)

In the dim morning light, you feel his nose brush yours.

His nose is straight, somehow, despite all the times it’s been broken. You feel his enviously long lashes brush your cheeks. You try to keep still.

“Morning,” Vash whispers, and kisses your eyelids.

You still don’t move, feigning sleep.

“I know you’re awake,” he says, and his lashes flutter on your own now. “You’ve stopped snoring.”

“I don’t snore,” you say, groggy, and smile when he lets out a laugh.

You hum, scrunching your body up into a ball and burrowing closer to him. He lets you – he always lets you – and his hands run up and down your back, along your sides, under your thighs. The careful caresses of a sleepy lover.

The suns rise once more, blinking into existence one at a time. The motel’s dusty windows let in a fraction of their light, old and cracked. You reach out and trace his chest with calloused fingertips. Your eyes slowly close.

Times like this are rare. A comfy mattress to sleep on, a safe room to be in (with locks that actually work), and nothing but each other to keep company. It’s perfect. Delicate.

“Hey,” he says, leaning his head down and nudging his nose with yours. “I had a dream. We had this big farmhouse with lots of land, and you had your own library in it, and I was an actual Plant engineer, but just for the city near us.”

“Oh yeah?” You yawn, shaking your head to clear it of fuzz. “No more travelling for you?”

“Guess not.” He continues rubbing your back, eyes never leaving you. “I think my mind made up that all the Plants were doing well enough to not need me as much. We even had two dogs and a cat.”

Your lips quirk up. “Can’t have a farmhouse without those.” You yawn again into his chest.

He hums. “Nope. It was a big house. I got lost in it a few times, but then the kids helped me find my way out – “

“The kids?”

He sputters to a stop, and you’re suddenly much more awake, looking up at him through lashes. His eyes rove yours, wondering if he should keep going. “The kids,” he says quietly, “yeah. I…think there were three.”

Your lips thin for a moment, teeth worrying your bottom lip. “Whose…I mean were they…?”

“Ours?” His voice is just as quiet. His hand takes yours from his chest, holding it over his heart, and says, “Yeah, they were.” He licks his lips and a blush rises to his cheeks. “Two of them had your eyes.”

The information settles on you like a warm blanket, and you give him a sleepy smile. “That’s too bad. I’d prefer they have yours.”

He stares at you a moment. Then, Vash lets out a sigh of relief and pulls you closer. Kissing your temple, he says, “Nah, they need your pretty eyes.”

You’ll agree to disagree.

[peonyblossom]

the way we should’ve gotten them all back last chapter when they joined the fight???? including the book 1 companions???

Decided to make an edit of all the BOLAS party members

[b0tsbby]

I realized I never actually shared this here but for the Drakengard fans, a while ago I was cooking up a Drakengard 3 au inspired by another artist who I genuinely can’t find anymore. Such doubled as a swap au cause Knives as a protag really did and still kinda does interest me.

The whole concept was kinda exploring things from a plant perspective and like, the world REALLY being bad…like bad…and if you’ve watched that 6-7 hour video on Drakenier lore on YouTube you’d KNOW, that canonically there’s constantly different timelines that sometimes converge or diverge so I can make a lot of executive decisions like the watcher’s cult and the flower and what not.

In the instance of Rem project Seeds, in this medieval setting is a lot more like the Cult of Watchers with slightly different intentions like weapon research and mana extraction. They really do weirdly praise the Black Flower though, despite honestly hurting it. After migrating from the city, Rem is very curious about its existence and how it can help with the constant war and environmental crisis befalling Midgard, but is actually more interested in the stars. She’s a scholar at heart and is one to question a lot so I mean, forgive her for falling into the clutches of a cult, it’s a very drab time to be alive. She did her best.

On the topic of Zazie I know we already have Accord as someone who is canonically everywhere all at once as a recorder, but I thought in this au Zazie would really fit that role. They aren’t an android like her though, and are closer to the magical side of the spectrum where dragons and intoners are, just a lil higher. Pure black and a coat felt like a fitting design choice considering they’d be the most enigmatic as the unreliable narrator.

So funny but I actually started with Elendira cause she kinda deserves to be a Drakenier character idk?😭😭 From the style to her personality she’d just do very well in that setting! That said I have the most fun with her in this au cause she’s a breath of fresh air from the melodrama and gives, very little fucks? Her goals are very simple: to live and not simply exist, and to have her own dragon…naturally. It is Vash who takes her in in this au…but that only makes her quote unquote ‘worse’ because she deeply can not comprehend his values. That said, as much as she hates him she respects him. She only barely respects Knives if she does at all.

And on the most important little duo we have the twins who are, Intoners. The only two there is. Like I said Knives is the protagonist and his goal is simply to kill his brother. That’s it. (“They don’t even know how deep this is gonna go” I say in the shadows). I pretty obviously related him to Zero for this design. And just like Zero, he’s a pretty unconventional and bitchy protagonist and the whole question of ethics was already out the window 20 min ago. Have some plant twins as little tiny guys cause I never figured a design out for Vash as a heroic antagonist.

While I consider this au abandoned I re listened to that 7 hour Drakenier lore video and kinda fell in love with it again. I also have Meryl, LR and Legato literally sitting there cause they’re practically almost finished designs. You can ask about drakengard lore anytime but for the love of god never play that game series (it’s peak). Genuinely don’t touch it (best worst games in history, actual art pieces). I have a whole lore doc and a 1000+ one shot on Elendira based on the Drakengard 3 novellas I don’t know what to do with it please someone tell me what to do with it.

[wannabecinderella]

When scholar Vash arrives: 🫶🤸💃🏼🎉🍾

When he opens his mouth: 🥺😡🔪🔪🔪

[lostworldss]

Blades 3 Crack Theory

Hear me out.

In Book 2 during one of Nia’s romance scenes, she mentions praying to Ellara, Nifara, and the Mother of Grey for MC to come back.

Now we saw the Mother of Grey/Ash Empress in Book 2, and we learned all the lore about her, Nifara, and the rest of the old gods. Nifara is likely to be the big enemy for Book 3.

But how much do we know about Ellara?

I am going to preface this by saying that I’m not good at remembering all the lore/history from the lore tablets or whichever, so please correct me if i’m wrong with any of this.

But I don’t remember learning much about Ellara specifically. With Nia’s context here, I thought to believe that Ellara was a deity. Perhaps a New God since the lore tablets spoke of all the Old Gods and she wasn’t included.

After checking Book 2 chapter 8, I verified that Ellara is in fact a New God.

This makes sense, considering that Nia prays to her and she has the Temple near Riverbend named after her that we explored.

Also, in the first chapter of the series, in the very beginning scene showing the battle against the Dreadlord thousands of years ago, we see a character named Ellara speaking with Xaius (Elven king/Other New God). Not much information is given about her in the scene, except for her seemingly being in a romantic relationship with Xaius. According the the choices wiki, she is a battle mage and Xaius second in command.

I’m not sure when exactly Ellara and Xaius became New Gods, was it before or after this battle? I’m not sure if they mentioned it before in Book 1. But either way, we can assume this character is The Ellara.

I’m really hoping Book 3 goes into the lore of the New Gods more, especially after learning about the Old Gods previously. Maybe the New Gods can assist us in fighting Nifara.

But back to the actual theory part. For a brief second, lets pivot to something else.

Who is the only character in the party whose family lineage/parents are unknown? (Kade could technically count maybe, but not him).

Who’s familial background is a complete shot in the dark?

Not MC, they have memories of their parents before the raid on their hometown. They were also given different deeper backgrounds based on their race in Book 2.

It’s Nia. She was adopted by the Church of Light as an infant, and she never knew anything about her actual family.

Now, maybe it’s just a funny coincidence, but does anyone else find it a bit interesting that her last name (Ellarious) sounds very similar to the name Ellara? Hmm.

But perhaps it’s a just simply a coincidence.

We could also assume that Ellara is a mage of light magic, since we know that she was a mage that would presumably be using light magic to counter the shadow magic of the Dreadlord. And we know this was after Nifara already separated the world into Light and Shadow realms, so the elves at this time probably didn’t know about True magic. And if Ellara is a god, she must be really good at it.

Hmm. Is there anyone else we know who’s naturally attuned to magic, maybe light magic specifically?

And just one more thing. What does Ellara look like in that screenshot? What colors is she wearing? She seemed to be dressed in a lot of white and gold, and wearing jewelry. Red hair. Hmm.

If you haven’t guessed my theory that I’m hinting at, here it is:

What if Nia Ellarious is a descendent of/related to Ellara???

And I’ll be honest I remember the name being similar thing being a thought in my mind before but I didn’t put any connection to it in my mind I was just like “oh they both kinda sound similar that’s cool.”

But let me enlighten you on on more thing. The suffix “-ious” in the english language means “having/characterized by/to have characteristics of.”

Nia’s last name literally means “to have the characteristics of Ellara.”

ITS BEEN STARING US IN THE FACE THIS ENTIRE TIME.

Also worth pointing out that when we first met Nia in book 1 chapter 1, where were Scholar Vash and her heading to? The Temple of ELLARA

Like you can’t tell me All of this is a coincidence (it probably is).

[thedezzler]

SPOILER UNDER THE CUT!!!

People in the afterlife I’m 100% sure we’re going to meet/see again

- Kaya

- Baldur

- Portia (I already know we’re gonna see her because I started playing chapter 2 already lol)

- Angus

- Grenn

- Gerhard (if deceased)

- Maria

- Sarenya

- Scholar Vash

- Ventra

- Watcher

- Kade’s parents

- MC’s parents

- Aurinae

- Farmer dad (I’m pretty sure he’s dead)

Going by first names cuz I can’t be bothered putting their full names 😂

[rosesnink]

The Penitent and the Lamb

Author's Notes

Surprise, @gaiuskamilah ! I'm your Secret Pal! I think it's either destiny or Dani's @choicesfandomappreciation 's matchmaking genius that has brought us together in this exchange, which is my fave exchange! I've enjoyed your content, meta and outwordly art for a while, and I am more than glad to have written this delicious puece of Niaerin! Your content is always so unique and intricate, with an incredible attention to detail and every relationship you write is soo rich in complexity, it's simply a treat to come into your blog! I hope this little piece makes justice to your vision and that you enjoy a major toxic yuri fic made specifically for you <3. Love, Noe

English isn't my first language, so please forgive any typos/grammar mistakes

This piece is rated +18, if you're a minor I'd advise you to not interact with this piece. Trigger warnings will be placed and tagged accordingly

If you like my Blades content, feel free to check out my masterlist and to ask for a place in the taglist!

This is my first time writing smut, so please bear with me lsjehdiebvudulkw

The F!Aerin sprite credit goes to the insanely talented @zhoras-bitch who was kind enough to let me borrow her edit for this ❤

Summary: Nia and Aerinae's journey has been no short of trouble and complex, but they keep coming back to the other like a moth to a flame, even if it kills them

Word Count: 4.9k

Category: Fantasy, dark romance, LGBTQA+

Pairing: Nia Ellarious x Aerinae Valleros (F!Aerin)

TW: Smut, themes of violence, kidnapping, strong language and religious themes such as religious trauma, guilt, among others. Reader's discretion is advised

Book: Blades of Light and Shadow Trilogy

Nia barely remembers her parents. She remembers that her mother smelled of cinnamon, that she loved to pick flowers for her hair and had auburn hair, flowing down till her waist, with beautiful emerald green eyes and a penchant for books. Her father, however, was a shy and quiet man, with brown skin and pensive brown eyes, always looking for a brilliant idea for his job. Then, she remembers the robed people in the temple, how they talked to her parents. How she remembers showing magical affinity. Saying goodbye. Hearing her mother cry out “Oh, my, oh my girl! Don’t take her from me! She is my girl! My firstborn child! Please!” She’d never see her again.

And when she asked Scholar Vash about her, he told her she had died from an illness, and that her father followed shortly after. Then, before Brienne, before Aerinae ruined her, she remembers small but meaningful flashbacks.

In one of the classes with her fellow acolytes, her professor told them “To give in to the sins of flesh is to sin, and to sin is to be led astray from the temple. You have all one mission, one thing to worship: the Light. It is all you have, all you need. People will come and go. Kings and lords will die, but all that matters is the Light.”

Or when they eventually grew up into teenagers full of questions… and questionable acts. One of their professors was furiously whipping two girls, their backs bare as they screamed “Foolish girls! How dare you turn back from the Light?! How many times have we told you the consequences of—of sinful fornication! Priests and priestesses are above the needs of the flesh! You two are banned for the Temple.” They were never seen again. Nia still wonders if they made it out of the Temple’s reach… or if Solerne found them, and took care of them.

Vash placed a hand on a seventeen-year-old Nia “You are progressing more than the year. You are very powerful, my child. More than we have seen in decades. And one day, you will do something great, and the Temple will reward you with its greatest gift: immortality.” “Immortality?” “Not that kind. The kind that your name will be written all over the history books, songs and legends. Many great priests and priestesses will come and go after you are gone, but only the name Nia Ellarious will remain.”

Or her worst memory, one of the last with Vash… when Brienne came into her life. Vash talked to her while Brienne and her brother teased one another “Nia, my child, don’t you think I haven’t seen the way that… adventurer looks at you… and your responses.” “Scholar Vash?” “She is an unusual beauty, but remember that a priestess like you is above the needs of the flesh. Let her look, but not touch. Your body belongs to the Light, not some mercenary.” “…Understood, Scholar Vash.”

That had been her life. Books, classes, training, and then the pilgrimage. But now, she was on a quest. A quest that led her to meet a beautiful and sweet princess, Aerinae. She saw how she and Brienne were talking, and a pang of jealousy came over her. Jealousy… or guilt? Priestesses were above the needs of the flesh. Then why did she want them both? She shook her head, and when Brienne went ahead to talk to Tyril, she didn’t miss a beat on talking to Aerinae on the pond. This time, she allowed herself to truly take her in: light skin, striking brown eyes, an elegant, long neck, a red dress decorated with a delicate tiara of the Valleros dynasty, with fine bone structure and plump, tempting lips, but most of all, a maddeningly enticing essence of rosewater and cherry blossoms. Taking a deep breath, she gave the quieter princess a smile “She is just lovely, isn’t she?”

The princess fidgeted with her hand, which was made of long, elegant fingers, which looked smooth, even though the middle one had a small bump. Of writing and reading so much, no doubt. The idea of the princess in her nightgown reading with her hair down—which now was in an elaborate, braided updo—was tempting, and Nia had to swallow such desires. Your body belongs to the Light.

“She is… different. You, however… are the odd one out.”

Nia blushed and mumbled “Everyone seems to know everything, and I…”

Aerinae gave her a gentle smile “I know what it’s like. To not truly belong. When you are the only daughter of a king, that weight… is unbearable. My brother is the strongest, the most handsome, the fittest… and a man. No matter what I do, or how well I prove myself, all I can think is… all they see is my gender. They do not see—Never mind. I’ve… accepted my fate,” she sounded now angry, resentful, but mostly… lonely. Lonely and scared. “They’ll marry me to some lord as old as time to ensure their house’s loyalty, and all I’ll do is be confined in a small, cold room, giving birth to heir after heir. It’s… all I’ve been trained to do. The life I am meant to.”

“That is… Gods, that’s cruel. Surely your father—,”

“Sees me as a liability. I am nearing my prime age for marriage. Not one lord seems to be interested in me, all they see is… the bloody crown and my royal womb. It’s… humiliating. Degrading, even.”

Nia took her hands in hers and squeezed them “I am sorry. Perhaps I could talk with the High Priest? Surely they’ll let you come to the priesthood. You wouldn’t be the first princess to join our ranks.” She beamed “We’d be sisters, you and I. Wouldn’t you like that?”

Aerinae flinched and yanked off her hands, breathing suddenly heavily “It is too late. The plan to… to marry me to someone is set into motion.”

“Aerinae—,”

“My brother is calling me.”

Before she could say anything, she was gone.

She had done it, Aerinae thought. As she dragged Nia through the halls of the castle, she thought she’d feel fulfilled. She had killed her brother, her kin, who often mocked that women couldn’t trounce men. They were too weak, too meek, too stupid to hold a sword. All they were good for was pleasing their husbands and raise their children. Nothing more. It had been… incredible. Watching him gawk at her like an idiot when she ran him through. He had died at her hands. The hands of the woman he mocked, tore down and often even abused in many levels. Slapping her. Dragging her by the hair. Daring his friends to tell her that he liked her. Went as far as to send one drunken man to her chambers when she was changing, him saying that she’d do anything for a sack of three silver coins. She had been terrified that night, and all she could hear was her brother’s boisterous laughter. But now it had been his turn to be scared, and he had died scared.

Then why don’t I feel like my purpose has been met?

Brienne’s gaze full of horror haunted her yet again. For a moment, she thought that she wanted her still. But no. Her heart was too set into the Light. She did not see what she saw, she was far too sheltered in her little village, with a loving brother and father. They were not kin. Dr. Kerrigan was an old medic, Kade was a human, and Brienne an orc. If they shared next to no blood bounds, who come it was so damn easy for them to love one another? Why not her? Why. Not. Her?!

No matter, she thought. She had the Dreadlord and the court. They were her family now. A little odd, but far stranger things had been seen.

“Aerinae… please… what of the kiss we shared? Of the feelings exchanged?”

Aerinae flinched. As Brienne disappeared, Nia had found the princess’ chambers, and the two had kissed for the first time… in ever.

“…I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you.”

Aerinae observed her, trying to ignore the pain of the stone in her chest “And what of Brienne? You two seemed cozy.”

“Not more than you.”

There was no jealousy, or possessiveness. Just a thrill that shouldn’t be there.

“I do not mind sharing. The Temple taught us to be generous.” She saw Nia flush under that statement. Aerinae chuckled.

“If kings and princesses can have two or more mistresses at once, why not princesses?”

Nia bit her lip “Is… that what I am, Aerinae? A mere mistress?”

She shook her head and tentatively reached for her, stroking her cheek “No. That is the problem. You are… so much more. It is maddening, how drawn I am to you. To you both.”

Then, she remembered the many romance books she read at night under her pillow, a small candle lighting it. Then prince kissed the woman, and their tongues danced. But instead, their noses bumped, and both women winced and chuckled.

“Let me, Your Highness…”

They kissed. For the first time, she felt… alive. It felt right. Her hands went to her hair, smelling cinnamon and Light. Tomorrow, she’d be her lamb. Today, she was her paramour, kissing her at everybody’s backs, not caring if anyone else could watch her. The betrayal would be a tomorrow issue. Tonight, she wanted to see what made a priestess of the light feel like a sinner repenting in a church after a passionate night.

“Do I mean so little to you?”

“You don’t… but it’s too late.”

Nia went back to screaming and thrashing.

When Nia sacrificed herself, she knew she’d die. As she closed her eyes and Brienne let out a blood-curling scream, she could see and feel two things; the last memories of her life, from looking at Brienne for the first time, to Aerinae, to Brienne again as her heartbeats stopped. Then, a flick of Shadow and Light inside her, pulling her back to life.

Then, it was all a blissful blur. Capturing Aerinae, being awarded, and finally being in Brienne’s arms, and my, that was a bigger delight than any other delicacy in the world. It felt like they were two little hermits in their own abandoned church, worshipping one another as their mouths and hands entangled between them, the balcony being a testifier of the moans and writhes, Nia’s name sounding like the most sacred of prayers as her tongue moves against her, their hips rocking and her hands trembling of bliss, such celestial bliss, she felt like reaching the sky. She felt like a goddess, Nifara perhaps, and Brienne was her most loyal and beloved subject, on her knees, beautiful and her body full of her love and desire. And Nia, while clueless of what to do, nevertheless followed her instincts. Her primal instincts.

Months ago, she would’ve been afraid of being whipped like those two girls, but now she did not care. She was a heroine in her own right, and all she wanted was to make the confident Brienne squirm and moan her name with abandon and devotion. Many said that fornication led to corruption, but she had never felt more alive or holier than now. She was now on her knees, watching the most beautiful woman she had ever seen against the balcony, her incredibly striking body naked and wanting for her, her legs spread out, her knees trembling as her legs drove her inside of her as humanly possible, her head lolled back as she begged for more. It reminded her of her prayers. Full of incantation, reverence, devotion and need. For it to be real. To exist. To do something about it. The Gods may be real or not, but Brienne was real. She was real, she existed, and she was panting and moaning her name, something unheard of Nia a few months ago, she though, as she devoured her like she was her last meal before dying. And my, she has never had a sweeter and more delectable meal.

But it all crumbled down when, a few days later, Brienne was taken of her for a whole year, and her coming back would change forever the world as she knew it.

It had happened after Brienne was gone. It had been a terrible day, and on top of it, she had found a corset of Aerinae’s lost in a dressing room. It all came crumbling back. And then… Shadow.

It happened as fast as she came. She roared and turned the corset to dust, before realising what she had done and looked at herself in the mirror. The panicked scream was so loud, it woke a few guards. Explaining it had been awkward to say the least.

She now had Shadow in her. The Shadow imposed by the Dreadlord. By Aerinae.

And she knew nothing of how to rid of it.

“What do you mean, it’s gone?!” Nia cried, and flinched on how high-pitched her voice sounded.

“We don’t know, Priestess. We woke up, the room was covered in smoke, and all we could see was the princess bare and shadowless.”

She looked at the guards “Has she been clothed and fed?”

“Of course! She is still a princess, after all. The king hopes for redemption on her part, perhaps by marriage.”

She gritted her teeth. Whoever the king hoped to marry her to, she hated him already “…Good. That is all. Goodnight.”

As the group argued over the recluse princess joining the party, Nia couldn’t help but observe her, seeing if she had any trace of Shadow in her. Nada. Zilch. Like it was never there.

But it was. Once. And she’d get the truth from her.

“Aerinae… how?”

“How what? How do I look this devastatingly good for a fallen princess?”

Nia thought of screaming at her, but instead took a deep breath “How did you get rid of the Shadow? Is it… possible?”

The princess shuffled in her feet “It is possible. But… it takes a lot of energy. It is a painful and arduous process.”

She was about to ask the question when Mal called ahead. She sighed. She would revisit this later.

Sealing the first rift had taken a great effort, and stumbling upon the party for Brienne had been just what the group needed: to let loose, to breathe and be able to convince themselves that the worst was over. Brienne was back, and they were reunited with their usual business, even if it was a perilous one.

Watching Brienne and Aerinae go elsewhere together made her understand that everything was changing, again, and that she was far behind. She could notice Tyril staring at her too, but who wouldn’t? She overheard many drunks comment that everyone looked at Brienne because of her height and the massive bulge of her breasts, but that was not it. It was the radiance she exuded, her incredible charisma and the presence she commanded, inspiring and admiring, drawing everyone to her. And of course Aerinae and Tyril were drawn to her. What fool wouldn’t?

However, her being the last person she went to… it meant everything. No matter how many people, it was her bed she ended up in. But she had felt guilty of seeing Aerinae as Brienne left to see Tyril.

“Aerinae—,”

“I know you have questions. But… it is a lovely day. The sun is out, people are dancing and drinking. Just… let us be two women in the temple where everything seemed to start, a fallen princess and… and the most beautiful woman she’s ever seen.”

“Wouldn’t that be Brienne?”

Aerinae stroked her hair “Brienne is as pretty as the sea: feminine, raw, strong, fluid and wise. You, Nia, are the Light made woman: pure, holy, full of calm and… home. You are… a lifeline everybody holds on. Something I’ve desired but couldn’t have. But…”

“But?”

“The Dreadlord’s gone. My brother’s gone. My Shadow is gone. All I have left is my desire to sink to my knees and make up for what I did to you. To us.”

Nia reddened, not in embarrassment, but something more “You… want it to give it a go? Despite everything?”

“Yes.” She said in a raw, desperate, wanting tone.

A silent agreement came between them: no more talk. Let their buried feelings come back to life. Soon, their mouths collided again, and Nia expertly undid her top, revealing her breasts, and cornered Aerinae against the altar, panting and swallowing “That… was unexpected.” Nia smiled knowingly.

“I’ve changed much since the wide-eyed priestess you met at the lake. I intend to leave you in bed for the rest of the night.” She had surprised herself at saying that. It was most unbecoming of a priestess, but the feeling she had been feeling since the Dreadlord, a certain daring feeling seeping into her system made her bolder, much bolder than ever.

“I am yours to take, Nia.” She whimpered as Nia traced her exposed curves.

She was about to when Nia felt it. Her Shadow coming back to her, her mind betraying her: she was about to make love to someone who made a fool of herself, kidnapped her, made her lover kill her and then left her to deal with the consequences. Then, the noise of unwanted company came, and all Nia could do was leave, wanting nothing more than to rid herself of that angry voice in her head since the Dreadlord had taken over her.

Aerinae called her, but she kept running.

That night, Aerinae left. And they were all off to Zaradun, where everything they had planned fell apart.

Seeing Brienne, all battered and bruised, powerless against Valax did it. All she could think was: get your filthy fingers off my Brienne.

And she did. By binding them together, Brienne wouldn’t harm her, and she’d be safe from her and her claws. But she would be lying if she didn’t want to crush Valax into smithereens every time she and Brienne came close.

The final rift was in Whitetower, and chances that she’d see Aerinae were very high. And she did. She wanted to jump and smack her for… everything, but she contained herself. Defeating the Ash Empress, nay, the Mother of Grey was more important.

And they did. And, for once, Nia was herself: strong, powerful, fearless and at last herself.

The days that followed, Nia wanted to process it all. And adapt to her new self, fused with both Shadow and Light magic. True Magic.

The Realms were now bound together, and everything felt different. It felt… right. Aerinae went over with the goblins often, only visiting others. Visiting Brienne. They both loved her, and Brienne loved them. At least, she knew for sure she loved her. Aerinae? That was her business. She had apologized to her for everything, and every time, she had accepted her apology, but didn’t quite feel ready to actually forgive her. Not yet.

However, it was quite thrilling, watching her being protective and grovelling over her over and over. She was still a penitent, but Nia was no longer a lamb. She was now a lioness who had come back from the dead and was ready for anything the world threw at her.

And then, the world threw her the most agonizing death by the Winged Warrior, conventionally leaving Brienne for last. Aerinae and Nia had tried to protect her, but all they could do was watch in horror as Brienne was left to die last.

The journey towards the City of No Faces was gruelling, and as The End tried to find a reasoning on why they were killed, Nia went to a small building to pray, or just breathe. She’d decide on the way.

Then, as she was about to cross the threshold, she noticed Aerinae had followed her, reluctant about it. Nia sighed, telling her that she was welcome there as well. They sat, and Nia noticed that there was a massive statue of what looked like Nifara. Nifara, who had been cruel, who had separated the realms and probably compelled the temple to its corruption and everything else.

“Look, Nia, I… am not ready to share how I got rid of my shadow, although you wear it with grace. It’s… hard for me, to talk about. I will, someday, but… I want to let you know, had it all led to this…”

“It is too late, Aerinae. We are dead, there is no turning back, and you cannot fix what is no more.”

Aerinae sighed and bit her lip “You didn’t deserve that, Nia. I… felt dirty, back when I… dragged you there. To the altar. A voice in my head told me to stop, to not go there, to turn back and return you to Brienne.”

“Did you know?” She finally asked, after a year and months of asking herself every night “That I was the one the Dreadlord was seeking all along? Was all of… that to lure me?”

“No! Gods, no. Not even then I’d be so heartless, Nia. It was all real. The kisses, the desire, the longing… it was real. It is real.

“I… want to believe you.”

She confidently cupped her face in her hands “Let me show you.” And she kissed her. But not like before. There were no secrets, no reluctance, no guilt. This was Aerinae, and she was kissing her with her true self. With her cheekiness, sarcasm, and that penance she only showed her. Everyone else got a sardonic, spoiled and impassive princess, but Nia had something not even Brienne could have: a penitent, remorseful and apologetic woman who’d do anything for her forgiveness. She was a penitent sinner who had come to her temple to earn her forgiveness, and for once, she was not the sacrificial lamb, but the goddess who had all the power to tell her exactly how to earn her forgiveness.

She pulled her back, and observed the face she blindly trusted and was betrayed and possessed by, and anger alongside desire came through her “Disrobe yourself.” Her voice was commanding, and Nia observed how she did as she was told with big, begging brown eyes that asked her for mercy. She wouldn’t give it easily. For once, she’d have to work for it. Her chemise fell, and could observe her body. It was nothing like Brienne, fluffy and full of curves and meaty and emerald. Aerinae was paler, her brown hair cascading down till her knees, and trembling with cold and desire. “Undress me.” She did it without any sarcastic remark, and tried to kiss her, but Nia stopped her “No kissing. Not unless I tell you to.” She loved having Brienne under her, but this was not Brienne. This was Aerinae, who had taken her human autonomy from her, and would make her see how it felt.

“On your knees.”

Aerinae made a pleading sound as she sank to her knees, and looked up from her eyelashes to Nia, wanting to have her. “Beg.”

“I want you, Nia.”

“You can do better than that, Aerinae. Beg.”

“Please, Nia, please, let me have you…”

“Will you do everything I say?” She asked as she placed a finger inside her mouth.

“Yes…”

“Everything?” She asked as she inserted a second finger.

“Everything.” She moaned, and deep down, Nia smirked to herself.

She then went towards the altar, and Aerinae tried to walk with her, but Nia pushed her down “I don’t recall telling you to get up.”

“…Where has this Nia been?” Aerinae asked, surprised yet delighted to see a new side of the priestess.

Nia simply smiled and sat on the altar, spreading her legs like Brienne did back then, and beckoned Aerinae, who gladly crawled to her, desperate. To have her. To prove how sorry she was. To show that she was a changed woman. And tonight, she’d be the final judge of that.

“May I?” She asked as her face neared her centre.

“You may.”

Aerinae kissed her calves sensually, her hands gripping her thighs, and slowly went to her outer thighs, building tension. Nia’s hands went to her hair and gripped it, giving it a firm tug, and Aerinae threw back her head, a whimper of pain and pleasure rumbling through the deserted temple. She kissed her lips, and Nia threw her head back, moans and whimpers of pleasure taking over her. The lamb everyone mocked was dead, and she was now a goddess, and had her most devout worshipper on her knees, doing the most intimate and sacred ritual to earn back her favour after falling from grace for the highest heresy.

Finding her throbbing pearl, and Nia let out a loud moan, working on her wonderfully, and when Nia saw that she tried to pleasure herself as well, she meowed “No. Not yet. You’ll get it when I say so.”

Aerinae nodded dutifully and went back to eat her like there wasn’t a tomorrow, kissing and licking and gobbling it like a child with sweets, not caring of the mess they were making, moaning with pleasure and abandon, shamelessly rocking her hips against her head, revelling in the desperate feeling of being forgiven, but never giving it to her. It was the best feeling, finally getting to get a say on what to do instead of thinking ‘What would the Temple say?’ But she had drifted from that kind of Temple a long time ago. ‘Fuck the Temple’. She now wanted to fuck her anger out on Aerinae, and she would. Gods be damned if it was sinful.

And my, whoever taught Aerinae, they had done a good job, for she soon reached her peak and cried out loudly, trembling as her eyes rolled out, seeing white. After taking a few deep breaths, she jumped out of the temple and threw Aerinae fully to the floor, Nia straddling her. Then, Aerinae asked “Does Brienne now? About us?”

“I don’t think so.”

Then, instead of asking, she just said “You love her. I love her. And she loves us. What if she discovers us and we break her heart?”

“Or perhaps she’ll join us. Now quiet. It’s hard to make you scream if you’re talking.”

With one hand, she placed her hands above her head, and with the other, she teased the sensitive flesh “You took me for a fool,” she finally said after so fucking long as her fingers stroked her “you betrayed me and threw me to the wolves like a lamb for them to kill me and watched like a fucking coward.” Both desire and anger were boiling out of her as Aerinae panted and whimpered at her merciless strokes, thrusting into her with a strength that seemed to elate her.

“And I, ah, regret every minute of it.” She panted, rocking against her fingers, her eyes always on her “If I could turn back, I… I would.”

“Prove it.”

She met her halfway, kissing her, almost devouring each other with more than mere passion. Resentment. Grief. Anger. Penance. The desire to start anew.

Then, finally having earned her mercy, let her hands go. Her best one went to her pearl again, and the other cupped her breasts, pinching and grabbing shamelessly, and Nia arched back at the feeling, both their moans echoing the whole chamber. Nia lolled her head back at the door, and saw an incredulous Brienne at the threshold. But they didn’t stop. That enticed them even more. The woman they both loved, finally seeing the truth. She could swear that she saw desire and intrigue in her eyes before leaving, and Nia only wished to continue, their throe of passion more scalding than ever, a much-needed boost that made it by far the most sensual and riveting performance in their short and inexperienced life. Crying out and Aerinae soon following, they both fell to the floor, panting, catching their breath.

“Does… does that mean… that you… forgive me?”

She took a deep, steady breath “No… but… you are… on a good path.”

“And… Brienne?”

“Later. I… wish… a few more minutes.”

After a few more minutes, they both went back to where Brienne was, probably trying to make sense of it. They both sat at each side of her, and Brienne finally looked at them.

“When did this happen?” She wasn’t angry or jealous. Simply wanted to know how, when.

“Back at the lake,” Aerinae answered “and then… it just spiralled from there.”

Nia took her hand “I still love you, Brienne. But Aerinae and I… we are bound together as well.”

Brienne nodded, then took a deep breath “Do you love each other?”

“…We crave each other. The one we love is you.”

She was about to say something when Mal’s voice ringed out and Brienne got up.

“Well, I also am involved to the one who kidnapped me and tortured me once. I am the last person that should judge. As long as there are no more lies or deceit… you have my blessing.”

And then, she left.

They looked at each other, and held their gazes. No longer the princess and the poor lamb. The penitent and the lamb turned legend.

[bedtimegiraffe]

Nia has always been a badass- it just takes her a while to put it to use for her own sake

When you first meet Nia, she's running into town asking for help in her pretty, sparkly dress that looks like it would catch on every branch in the world. And she has a pretty low opinion of her fighting skills. Everything about the setup seems to suggest she's going to be a healer you have to focus on protecting.

And Nia's right, she isn't great at taking care of herself. But not for the reason she thinks! It's not that she's at all weak, physically, mentally, or magically.

I think it's because of her assumption that she can't fight. That she's fragile. And because she initially thinks she's no use in combat, the second Nia's in danger she just gives up and calls for help.

But the second someone else is in danger? Well, Nia doesn't hesitate. She starts destroying necromantic skeletons, because she's certainly not going to just stand by and let someone get hurt.

She'll do this as soon as the Temple of Ellara if you screw up. No hesitation, just smashing shadow hounds. Then she's shocked that it worked! Because it didn't occur to her she could help until she did it out of protective instinct.

It's devastating to Nia when Scholar Vash dies to the Shadow Court. She mourns him. She has a big, well deserved cry about it. But she doesn't stop there. Because other people are in trouble. She immediately goes, "No one else dies. I'm going to kick the Shadow Court's ass. You coming?"

The team's encouragement, especially MC's, slowly helps Nia see that she can be badass. That she is badass.

And that is how she saves the world. By becoming aware of what she was always capable of. MC has to remind Nia of all she loves and wants to protect in the world to help her resist the Dreadlord. Because that's easier for Nia than fighting for herself.

But it's Nia finding confidence and strength in who she is, separate from her commitment to others, that ultimately lets her save the day.

Basically, I love the story of this sweet priestess who thinks she's fragile, only to realize she's so powerful and determined she's disrupted the plans of a guy called the Dreadlord.

Screenshots from my hero, Neckrone Shen on youtube whose 4 playthroughs of Blades have saved me hours of replaying.

[sarenyaschild]

PEOPLE! ITS HAPENNING! I REPEAT.

It's happening!

[bernardellinewsagency]

back with even more trigun x honkai star rail crossover thoughts, this time inspired by @jiinglespurs's veritas the punisher fanart :D though i'm not sure if i can call this just "thoughts" when it's turned into uh... several paragraphs of rambling and then a 2k word ratiorine fanfic about it. it's mostly unedited because i think i wrote most of it in some sort of possessed/fugue state where i was solely consumed by the need to have aventurine as vash, veritas as wolfwood, and for them to hurt my own feelings, but yeah in total this is around three thousand words in one post. i'm gonna hide it under a cut for everyone's sake :)

to start, no man's land is now penacony, of course. instead of seven cities, it's twelve, based on the twelve dreamscapes. now, most of these cities are just there to exist in the background and/or be destroyed. the lore important ones are midnight, sol, and morning dew (idk if the names should be changed to sound more like locations but trigun has cities named after months, names like morning dew aren't entirely out of the question).

midnight is where ships first crashed onto the planet, dooming humanity to a lonesome existence in this new world. however, despite being the vash and nai representative characters, this wasn't because of kakavasha and sunday. no, it was mikhail and gopher wood, the watchmaker and the dreammaster whose actions helped shape the penacony storyline in canon. these days, it's mostly a ghost town, the remnants of the first human civilizations on the planet. and morning dew is the july of this world, the location where shit will be going down, since it's where the dewlight pavilion is in canon so it'd be wherever sunday hosts his currently unnamed religious fanaticism organization.

in canon, sol is the dreamscape known for museums, libraries, and academies. thus, this becomes where veritas is from. to take more from wolfwood's backstory, he would've been an orphan there, brought up in an orphanage and not really able to get a proper education. luckily for him, i feel like he'd be a pretty self sufficient learner- he could've stolen books and snuck into buildings to help teach himself math, science, philosophy, etc. seeing his potential, the orphanage probably would've wanted to help send him to school, but he would insist that if they sent anyone, it would be the other kids who'd need it more than him, or that they save their money for food and supplies. a pity, perhaps if he did go away to school then he wouldn't have been taken and made into a killer rather than a scholar.

remember how i said that things would've been caused by gopher wood and mikhail? well, both of them are dead now. mikhail would've died first, which is rather unfortunate because then gopher wood would've been able to make a power grab and form the currently unnamed organization (though it'll probably be named after smth to do with the harmony or the order) incredibly powerful and influential within penacony. he would've had grand plans, and i think sunday should coup him before he could do much with them. kill his father, take his power, be more ambitious that he ever could.

speaking of this unnamed organization, its members are this au's versions of the gung-ho guns and can really be any character who shows up in the penacony quests. there's veritas the punisher, of course, and it's now led by dominicus, the name sunday goes just like how nai goes by millions knives. very transgender of both of them. then there's gallagher the hound, sparkle the fool, and while i don't have any ideas for robin, those three would be in the upper echelons of this group; both because sunday wants to keep his friends close and his enemies (of which gallagher and sparkle are certainly both possibilities) closer, and because the four remind me of the four harmonic strings, and sunday would definitely love the symbolism of that. i've also got two other ideas for its members: acheron the blade, an accomplished swordswoman known for never unsheathing her sword in a fight, and samuel the cavalry, an unknown young woman cloaked in both brutality and a fearsome armor made from lost tech.

why is kakavasha on the run from sunday and his organization? he's the vash adjacent character in this au, but he's not actually related to sunday, the two don't have any original closeness to utilize. but the glory of an au is that you can put canon into a paper shredder and say things like "maybe the avgins were there before anyone crash landed onto the planet. maybe kakavasha is still the last of his kind. and because i can, maybe he's got some fun powers that i can use to make him get homoerotic with veritas but can also serve as a reason why sunday is hunting him down." really i just need to be able to make him suffer more than jesus for my own entertainment.

and finally, i love the thought of eve being jade's real name, so it's jelena and eve who end up traveling with kakavasha across the world. they're meant to be like the insurance girls, financial sector employees who have ended up sticking with him because of the monetary disasters he keeps causing everywhere he goes.

ONTO THE GOOD STUFF. IT'S FANFIC TIME.

"what the hell were you thinking, blondie?" veritas yells, crouching beneath a half destroyed wall as the top of it gets riddled with bullets, spinning the punisher around and firing backwards without looking. he doesn't have to; they drilled him on trajectories and distances and angles so much he doesn't even need to run the numbers, his hearing helping to pick up on where the bandits are and his hands naturally guiding his aim. it's not a guarantee that he hit where he wanted every time, but he hears the first three bodies drop like apples from a tree, while the fourth cries out in terror and moves in time to flee.

"i had a plan, veritas! no one was going to get hurt!" he's a damn good liar, that kakavasha, because veritas can smell the blood coming from his arm, enhanced senses tuned in to everything around him more than he would ever like to be. now is not the time to be overwhelmed by all that. covering his ears, veritas remains crouched as another explosion sounds off behind the two of them, and then he takes off. keeping the punisher close to his chest, he counts the footsteps he can hear as he runs, the way kakavasha's catch up to him.

he's taller, but kakavasha is faster. veritas has shorter strides despite having longer legs, it's just because of the way he runs while burdened with such a heavy weight. kakavasha barely touches the ground as he sprints though, especially when they aren't yet back to the sand that surrounds the sprawling metropolitan city of blue hour. an ever-growing town situated with a monopoly of the largest body of water in penacony means the people here certainly wouldn't struggle with shitty roads, and it also means it's a shitty place for them to have run into the fool.

ten more steps. five more. two- kakavasha overtakes him, and veritas finishes counting down the beats in his head. keeping perfect time with the fool's rhythm, he spins, firing a single shot at the explosive doll that's launched towards them. it hits perfectly, and even though whatever charge sparkle put in this one is stronger than the rest, it's still within the parameters veritas had set. kakavasha is out of the blast radius, and the punisher absorbs most of the force of the shockwave and the shrapnel from it, leaving veritas to deal with just a piece that nicks his side and the searing heat.

no time to waste after that; he turns right back around and keeps running, easily falling into step with kakavasha as they both time their steps with each others’. "you think you could have a plan to deal with this? you've heard about the fool before, right? you can't predict what's going to happen next, there isn't any game theory about the best course of action you can apply to this!"

"you predicted that bomb!" kakavasha points out, both yelling to be heard.

"yes, as a one time thing, not a broad overview of this entire scenario! there's no strategy to minimize harm!" he tugs kakavasha into a tight left turn, hearing footsteps from the direction they had been headed. "sparkle doesn't play by any games' rules, only her own. the only way we might be able to deal with her is to get rid of her stage and her audience, and that's this whole damn town!"

he'd have to be more of a fool than dominicus' latest assassin to miss the way that kakavasha looks at him, unnatural eyes wide and staring through those obnoxious pink glasses of him. "you sure know a lot about her," he says once they manage to stop for a moment to catch their breath.

veritas very nearly doesn't resist the urge to go and snap those glasses in half. "well, you heard what miss eve has said before. i'm quite well learned, for someone like me. i'm more worried that you don't seem to know anything at all about the people hunting you down!"

laughing nervously, the way kakavasha checks the ammo of his revolver is one of the most obvious tells veritas has ever seen, second only to the way his fist is always held behind his back as he talks monsters out of mayhem to spare others' lives. it's a tell that reminds him entirely too much of this martyr's opposite, and he forces the thought from his mind. "i'd really prefer it if they didn't have to do so, you know, it'd make this whole journey much more pleasant. after all, i've already got you here with me, right? no need for anyone else."

for all that veritas is well versed in practical manners, his body and mind honed to perfection, the heart and feelings continue to elude his grasp. he has no idea what emotion it is that overtakes him- rage? confusion? fear? something else entirely? all he knows is that he looks over at kakavasha, and that idiot is just grinning at him, just smiling as if he isn't hinting at everything that's been threatening to tear down veritas' entire world.

moving without thinking, dust fills the air as he slams kakavasha against the nearest wall, a hand gripped around his neck and not letting go. "what the fuck do you think you know about?" he yells, tightening his hold. "you- you fucking bastard, how long have you known?"

in the split second attack, kakavasha's glasses must have fallen to the ground, because he's met with the full force of that multicolored gaze that always cuts quick to his very core. "since we met," he wheezes, "i've known all along."

veritas drops him, watching kakavasha fall to sit on the ground as something unfamiliar writhes within his gut. "you knew? and you- you didn't do anything about it? how in the world could anyone, even you, make a gamble with such high stakes? just because you think you know me? were you just going to let me get close to you- no, not even you, were you going to play with jelena and eve's lives like that? just bet that i won't kill them, that they won't end up as more innocent casualties because of you, stampede?"

"hear what you're saying?" kakavasha sounds too smug, too fucking sure of himself, like he's already won this argument, and veritas turns around so he won't have to see the same expression on the bastard's face. "you care about them. you wouldn't let them get harmed in a fight, you're not about to go and hurt them yourself. you're a good person, veritas, and i trust you-"

"no," he spits, seething with vitriol bubbling up to the surface. "you're naive, stampede, you're a gambler and a fool-"

"funny," comes another voice, lilting and feminine, "i thought that i was the fool here."

the argument seems to be unanimously paused as both whip their heads around to stare at the newcomer, guns drawn and at the ready. she just laughs at that, raising her hands to show that she's not carrying any of the dolls she's been using to wreak havoc across blue hour. "easy, boys, no need for such hostility!"

veritas makes sure he's aiming right between her eyes. "what the fuck do you want?"

more giggles. "entertainment, of course! and this little lover's spat is more entertaining than what the rest of the town has become. those girls you mentioned spoiled most of the fun for me, taking away my grand audience and actors, so i had to look for something else!"

jelena and eve got the citizens away. veritas sighs with relief at the realization. there will still be piles of bodies and rubble to clean up, but the girls must've come up with some type of evacuation plan after the four got separated. his grip on the punisher loosens slightly, but not enough to not aim to kill. "so, did you get the entertainment you wanted?"

"of course! and even though you're entertaining, i know that you won't kill me, punisher, and your little blond puppy over there definitely won't, no matter how thrilling that would be to see! so, i'll see myself out, as i'm getting rather bored here. toodle-oo!"

even he can't see where she got the last doll from, considering he hadn't seen any with her, but maybe there is something to how lucky kakavasha seems to be when it only explodes into a cloud of colorful dust and bright lights. by the time he turns back, sparkle the fool is long gone. "damn it," he curses, lowering the punisher as reality sinks in. "damn it, damn it!"

kakavasha's touch is what snaps him out of it, a palm placed right over where he got hit earlier. he hisses at the sting, already reaching for one of the vials he keeps within the punisher. no more need to hide it if blondie's known all this time. "wait," he hears, and he pauses despite himself, unable to stop himself from indulging kakavasha's gentle request.

a warm sensation spreads from where kakavasha touches him, soothing his aches as it spreads through his nerves and veins, through to where blood has already started to clot now that he's no longer prolonging the healing by moving around. the pain was already negligible and nothing compared to what he's faced in the past, yet suddenly it's gone entirely. if he were to look, veritas is sure that he would be faced with the familiar sight of his flesh stitching itself back together until there's not even a single hint that he had been injured remaining. he doesn't look though, keeps his eyes trained away from the man next to him. "i- you-"

"we should meet back up with the girls," kakavasha says. he draws back after a few more seconds, his work apparently done. he picks something up from the ground; his sunglasses, veritas realizes, and it's only once he's got those back on that veritas can face him again.

grabbing onto his wrist as soon as he can get an opportunity to, veritas takes a few seconds to wait for words to start working for him again before speaking. "what the fuck did you just do?"

"oh, that? that's nothing! think of it as just a token of my appreciation, mkay?"

however fast kakavasha can run is not going to help him run away from this. "that's- you know that's not what i wanted to hear, blondie. you just healed me with nothing but a single touch. the only thing i know of that can do anything like that is the healing serum that asshole has been able to cook up for people like me. even someone like you could understand how suspicious that is, and i know i've got no leg to stand on for this, but you-"

"veritas." kakavasha doesn't want to leave him any room to disagree with him on this. "i said, we should meet up with the girls."

"they're safe, they can wait- wait." pieces click into place within his thoughts. they're still hasty and disorganized, but they show him the steps to take through the right method. "heal yourself first, you damn gambler."

"who, me? i'm not hurt, veritas!" he snatches his arm away the moment that veritas makes a move to yank his sleeve up, as if the two of them can't see the blood staining the outside of his jacket anyways.

it's a reaction he had been expecting. "you infuriate me, do you know that? i was going to ask you what you are, considering your little special ability, but i already know the most important answer to that. you're a martyr, and you won't heal yourself even though you can."

"it's just not effective on myself?" kakavasha tries to counter.

"you and i both know that isn't true, but if that's the way you want to play this, fine. let's go back to the girls, and i'll make sure that jelena guilts you into letting me bandage you up properly."

a faux gasp. he's brought them back to more familiar territory. playful sounding bickering that still holds its edge, conceding to his wants while using them against him. half casual conversation, half the strategy of a hostage negotiation. "you wouldn't dare!" kakavasha exaggerates. "i'm her favorite, you know."

he grabs ahold of the unsaid conversation. "no, you're eve's favorite. jelena likes me more than you, she says that i'm more reasonable." in bickering about the two of them, it's what goes unsaid that means the most. they can talk like this because nothing is going to change between the four of them. kakavasha isn't going to tell them anything, for better or for worse. "listen, gambler-"

"no need to say anything, veritas." his eyes don't look as odd when they're accompanied by a genuine smile. "we've all got our secrets, right?"

he looks away first, hauling the punisher back over his shoulder and letting the weight dig in uncomfortably against his back. "yes" he whispers, knowing kakavasha would still hear him, "yes we do."

[myeternitycarrera]

So we really got to interact with a parental figure for each LI in the afterlife - Nia got scholar Vash who was like a father to her, and Mal, Aerin, Valax and Tyril met their moms - but they couldn't bother with Imtura's mom? 🥲 They did my girl so dirty

[novasintheroom]

060. Miracle (part 5/5)

♡ Pairing - Vash x Reader

♡ Word count - 1.8k

♡ Warnings - none

♡ Description: The culmination of all your and Vash's hard work as a couple.

Part of the 150 Bullets drabble series on AO3.

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5

He had a plan.

It was going to be perfect.

A candlelit dinner in Haven Point, a ride on a tomas up to the bluffs near town at sunset, a secret photographer he paid extra for hiking all the way up there to capture the moment.

It was going to be perfect.

Then his luck kicked in. Then, the bullets flew, the townspeople screamed, you and he got separated, then reunited, then captured.

And now?

Now the ring burns a hole in his pocket. He watches you get tied up in the middle of the road while another thug manhandles him a few feet away.

You aren’t struggling. You’ve learned this game by now. Eyes down, look down-trodden, glance at Vash to plan what to do.

He’s got half a plan formed, but it’s scattered when the bandits start going through his coat.

“Got a lotta pockets on you, don’t ya?” The guy grins, two teeth missing in his smile. “Means you got a lotta stuff!”

“Uh, not necessarily – hey!” Vash flinches as the bandit’s hands dive into one of the inside pockets of his jacket. He pulls out Vash’s small journal, the pen he chews on. They’re thrown to the ground, and the man moves on to the next pocket. Boxes of bullets that he pockets, grumbling that they aren’t even the right size.

This goes on for a while. The bandits hoot and holler as more townspeople are brought to the round-up, tied up and forced to give up their goods. Vash sweats more and more. What’s he going to do? How’s he going to save all these people?

Then, the crook reaches the pocket. With The Box.

Vash squirms like a worm on a hook as the crook tries to get his hands in the pocket. “No! I-I – please, it’s supposed to be a surprise - !”

He feels the man’s hand grasp around the little metal box. Vash thinks how your face will look when it’s not him who presents the ring but some grubby bandit, how the pieces will click together, how you’ll know, and something just –

Snaps.

Feet kicking, wild, Vash takes out both the lackey in front of him and the one behind. Ropes snap as Vash breaks them behind his back, and his hands are free. The man still managed to take out the box when he slumped to the ground. Vash picks it up out of his curled hand quickly.

The others in the gang all point their guns at him now, wide-eyed and baffled. A strange silence hushes over the town. Vash looks at the gang. Looks at you.

Chaos.

Bullets fly, and Vash dodges every one of them. His speed is inhuman. He’s got one, two, four men and a woman down in two seconds. You struggle against your own bindings, distracting your goon enough for Vash to come flying in and knock him out. He pulls out his pocketknife and slices through your ropes clean, and then you’re both running, the sound of metal pinging off the sides of buildings and shouts from passerby as you flee.

“What the hell, Vash,” you gasp, doggedly keeping up, “why did you do that?”

“I’ll…it’ll make sense later!” He pulls you around a corner and you both hide, waiting for the first wave of bandits to pass by.

But the whole situation has your scholar mind thinking. “What’s so important about that box you grabbed?”

“Later!” He yells, taking off down the alley as the bandits double back and start shooting at his red coat. You’re dodging with him, at his heels like always.

Somehow, though, a shaky smile forms on your lips, and he sees it when you both duck into a shuttered business’s doors. His stomach drops. “Does it have to do with why you’ve been so cagey and affectionate around me lately?”

Dammit. Has he? He feels the heat in his cheeks magnify tenfold. “No!” He says. He pulls you behind the metal counter, watching shadows flit by the windows as you’re both searched for. His gun clicks at the ready, and Vash is trying, trying, to come up with a plan without losing his composure.

You’re making it very difficult. There’s a spark of excitement in your eyes. “You’re such a bad liar. And you told me to wear something nice for this evening…you had something special planned!”

“Mayfly,” his exasperation is evident, “I promise, promise, I will tell you later what it was all about. Please stop trying to guess while our lives are in danger!” His teeth grind. His plan was perfect, and now it's all unraveling!

You purse your lips and sidle up to his side, watching more shadows flit through the windows. Your own gun is pulled out, and there’s a hardness in your eyes now. “You’re right.” A sweet smile forms on your lips. “Let’s take care of this. Then we can really talk.”

-~*~-

And you do take care of it. Hours later, the dust has settled, and people are picking up the pieces of the gang’s rampage through town – whether that be sweeping the street, washing off the blood from the walls, or kicking the rears of the crooks still waiting for the sheriff to come take them away.

You and Vash are already making your way to the next town over. No need for the law to make the connection that Vash and the Humanoid Typhoon are one and the same tonight. The dunes shimmer red and purple as the suns set, and you both take one last gander at the town behind you before setting off again.

“So…” you start, looking him up and down, “you gonna tell me what that was all about earlier?”

 He looks off in the distance, pretending to think. Just to give him more time. But then you come up and hold his forearm with both of your hands, leaning into his shoulder and looking up at him with those eyes.

You know.

His shoulders slump. He’s talking before he realizes. “Mayfly,” he falters, “this…isn’t how it was supposed to go.”

Your lips, pressed into his shoulder, turn upward. “When has that ever stopped you?”

It warms him. You’re always so patient – too patient – with him. And his heart speeds up, and he starts sweating, but he nods and gently pats your hand. If he’s going to do this, he’s going to do it right. You take a few steps back, clasping your hands together to keep them from shaking.

Vash looks around at the dune you’re both on, the stars glittering overhead. The town to the right has all their lights on, giving a subtle yellow glow over you both. Not what he envisioned for this, but…Vash clears his throat once, twice, before turning to you fully. Again, he says, “Mayfly…” then, he shakes his head, murmuring your name instead. He takes both of your hands in his and gets down on a knee.

He says your name again. “You…I don’t know what I’d do without you. You’re my best friend. You’ve taught me so much in the time we’ve been together. I love everything about you – your intelligence, your sense of humor, your laugh, your smile. You’re everything to me. Everything.�� He sighs and presses his forehead to your knuckles for a moment. He hasn’t spoken truer words. Heart hammering against his ribcage, Vash squeezes his eyes shut and swallows back the tears building. What will he do if the answer is ‘no?’

Gently, you squeeze his fingers, encouraging him to continue. He looks back up. Your smile is angelic, and you’re sniffling a bit. Mouth going dry, he continues. “Because of you, I keep fighting for the good in this world. It’s a miracle, in me – in my heart – that you chose me. That we even found each other in the first place. And no matter how hard I’ve made it for you, you keep sticking around and I…Thank you. Thank you for loving me. For choosing me.”

Vash reaches finally for The Box. He feels the tremors in your hands – or is that his own?  It takes a moment, the corners catching on the fabric. When it’s pulled out, he hears your breath leave you. That’s a good sign, right? The hinges let out the barest of squeaks when he opens it.

And there it is. The little golden ring with the tiny ruby laid in the center. He wants to apologize – it’s so bland compared to other rings. You deserve better. You deserve the world. But now is not the time for his self-deprecation. Now is the time for…for…

He swallows, and finally, the words pop out: “Can I be your husband?” He adds on quickly, “Will you marry me?”

You tackle him into the sand. “Oof!” he spits out. He barely gets a hold on The Box, snapping the lid shut so the ring doesn’t go flying.

There’s a ringing in his ears. No, wait, that’s you shrieking. “Yes! Yes! Yes!” Your bright peal of laughter comes, followed by more excited shrieking. Your lips find his neck, then his jaw, moving to his cheeks and peppering his face with kisses everywhere. You push his glasses up to get at him better.

All the while, a coil in Vash’s chest loosens dramatically. Of course you’d say yes. Why did he ever doubt it? A grin spreads on his face, and he holds you close, finally letting a few tears out. You kiss them away as quickly as they come. He can feel you shaking in his grasp. After a minute of this, you pull away, wiping your cheeks stained with your own tears.

Vash manages to sit you both up, his hand on your lower back. You look at each other for a moment, giggling and gasping. “Can I put it on now?” he asks.

He’s met with more laughter, and the biggest kiss of his life.

A sudden flash to the side makes you both flinch. Vash reaches for his gun, but his hand relaxes as he sees the photographer he hired a lifetime ago to capture “the moment.”

She grins from the side. “You two are hard to find! But I’m good at catching my moments!” She pauses and squints. Her lips uptick. “Cool tattoos, by the way! Didn’t know they had glowing ink!”

You both look at each other again. And, yes, both of your plant lines are showing. Vash lets out a breathless laugh and pulls the ring from its box. With still-trembling fingers, he slides it on to your ring finger, and it fits perfectly.

Later, you’ll both look at the photo taken alongside the shine of your ring in a musty motel room. You’ll both laugh at how loudly you screamed, at how scared Vash was this whole time. But for now, you’ll kiss each other under the stars, marveling in the miracle that you found each other, love each other, and stay by each other.