#vashwood fic prompt

[frogenthusiastt]

16 and/or 12 for the ask game 🫶🤍💖🌸💐‼️

Tysm!!

12. Candles + 16. In dreams

One of the things that set Vash apart from humans is how he always knows when he's dreaming. It was a comfort, when he was a child and the monsters under his bed came to haunt his sleep. It had been a comfort when he'd been laying on the cold floor of ship 3, being able to run away into memories of him and Nai sharing birthday cakes or fighting for their mother's attention.

Now, he wasn't so sure. The cathedral was vast, infinitely detailed and grandiose like the Catholic churches he'd only seen drawn in picture books or sketched in Wolfwood's thoughts. His memories had always been like that, rough drawn ink on paper, like he couldn't bear the reality of them. Vash had never told him he could see them sometimes, when he was pushing his mind against the heavy weight of sleep and the blessed darkness that came with it.

There where marble angels carved against the two pillars on either side of the altar, hands curled in supplication. In between them was a huge silver organ, pipes curving viciously upwards as if those, too, were designed with prayer in mind. To the right, next to the sanctuary, was a rounded metal pricket-like structure, carrying at least 20 lit candles. And in front of them, broad figure sharply backlit by their light, he was waiting.

Wolfwood looked as he had on his best days, proud aquiline nose reddened by sunlight, clever mouth holding a cigarette. Vash knew that he was dreaming, because he'd never seen Wolfwood look this relaxed in a church.

"I've been waiting, y'know?" he said, words blowing a puff of smoke swirling in the warm illumination.

Vash's troat felt infinitely dry. "I know. I know, Wolfwood. I'm so sorry I'm keeping you waiting."

Wolfwood just grinned, linking their hands together. "I don't blame ya. You should keep me waiting a hundred years more, if y'know what's good for you."

The image of him blurred as tears formed against Vash's lashline. He desperately blinked them away. He'd take as much as he was given, burn this blessed image into his mind for as long as he could.

Wolfwood laughed, so terribly gently. "You were always such a crybaby. Save it for when we see each other again.

Vash could only manage a broken sound, sob fracturing out of his body. "Nicholas. Fuck. Nicholas. Please just come back to me, I can't– I c–"

He felt a warm hand press against his hip, smoke blowing against his cheek. And then he was nothing, and Vash stood alone in the church. The marble angels looked down at him in divine disinterest.

Vash didn't believe in prayers, but he did believe in promises.

"I'll find you. Wait for me in the next life, in the next death, in whatever eternity you're in.

I'll find you."

[pastelhooman]

[WVW Exchange Event 2023!]

"The kisses on your lash, your ears, on the nose that keeps scrunching. The kisses on your hand, on your cheeks, and the exchanging soft words waiting for the break of day."

----- ID under break -----

A total of 6 pages of comics, starting with a close up shots of vash kissing sleeping wolfwood's nose, eyes, lashes, and he furrows them a bit. an overhead shot of the two of them in a motel room, on the bed with vash leaning over wolfwood from the left, laying soft kisses on him. their legs tangled. their normal outfits are thrown haphazardly on the floor, instead donning comfortable clothes. on the outside, the very first ray of lights are yet to shine.

"what a face you're making pfft" - vash says as he grabs both of wolfwood's cheeks, squeezing them a bit. wolfwood mumbles, "There's something that keeps landing on my face, it tickles." he grabs the hand that is on his right cheek. "Well you're letting it happens anyways right?" Vash muses, bringing the hand up to kiss on its knuckles. "Good morning Wolfwood. It's almost dawn"

"… Isn't it way too soon?" - wolfwood asks, but keeps to himself the prayers he's sending to god because the the boy on top of him was such a sight to behold. Vash flops down onto him, leaving the hand hanging and lace his own hand into Wolfwood's hair, peppering kisses to the side of his face. "Yep" - he answers - "But you woke up on your own tho" - facetiously. He giggles, saying that it was a joke after a beat of silence. A sigh, "don't make me upside you first thing in the morning." Wolfwood closes his eyes, hand combing through golden strands. "Heh, how merciful~" "We have a meet up with Milly and Meryl today, remember?" Vash reminds him, which does raise some vague memory. wolfwood hums, the other hand reaching around vash's torso, hugging him. " So, the sooner we arrive, the less likely she'll chew through my head." - Vash adds. "riiiight. And you were SO urgent in waking me up." in wolfwood's hold, both of them slowly turn to the right, towards the edge of the bed.

Well, you were just soooo cute, I couldn't help it! didn't thinkk you'll actually wakE UAA-!"

the bed creaks under the sudden shift in weight as wolfwood tosses vash over and under him, arms firmly hugging him, one at his back and one at his head, hungrily dives down to kiss. "!! Wolf-! Wait-!" Vash yelps, leg instinctively curls around the other's man hip to hang on, trying his damnest to grip on his shirt as HE is now half airborne, barely has any contact with the bed on his upper body. However, wolfwood seems to have another idea as he keeps deepening the kiss, pointedly holding Vash close, hands spread guarding the back of his head as both of them are sliding off the soft fabric.

"THUD!" a resounding fall, possibly enough to wake the room downstairs, followed shortly by laboured breaths amist wet smacks of lips. Heaves and huffs of air exchanging between the two bodies when the need to breath made itself necessary. They press close, cradling each other, and are lost to their own world. After a while they had to part. Metal arm shifts through black locks, caressing down to his nape and they hold eye contacts there, with lidded eyes, strands of saliva thins then breaks.

Wolfwood pushes up on his arms, looking smugly down at his now disheveled partner: "Now this is how it's done, Needlenoggin." he remarks. Vash tries to wrangle his thoughts back in order, but strings of Wolfwood's name and a wonderous question keeps filling his mind, of whether he should risk it all and have fun for a bit more. Regardless, snapping out of his trance, Vash sourly asks, with a wry smile and an aching head: "But did you really need to roll off the bed?" "Wrong side, whoops" - Wolfwood anwers unseriously, laughing as he finds the situation quite amusing.

----- End of ID -----

[tradingjack]

Yaay second piece for the vw reverse bang complete!! ✨️✨️ (ik it's a little late stfu)

My partner @tiltingplanet wrote the sweetest little fic to accompany this, they did a spectacular job and I really hope you'll check it out :D

(more doodles+alt version under read more)

[bluewonderer]

Starting 7/7, write a seven-sentence fic using one of the one-word prompts each day until 7/13. List of prompts and other rules under the cut.

Other rules: the seven-sentence fic can be any ship/fandom/character. It can be a fanwork or an original work. It can be canon or AU. The seven-sentence fic can be a self-contained drabble or it can be part of a longer work. The goal is to just let loose and write! Just make sure you're writing seven sentences and using the prompt within those seven sentences.

Feel free to use #7days7sentences! Or tag me in your fic or reblog this post with your seven sentences so we can see your work!

List of prompts:

salt heat wave taste thunder wine song

Spread the word and get to writing! I can't wait to see what everyone comes up with.

Note: This is a seven-day challenge that a few writer friends and I decided to try out! It is heavily inspired by this 30-day challenge from last year. I plan to use this to drag myself out of a bit of a slump. I can't wait to see what everyone does!

[one-flower-one-sword]

we've heard a kind of paradise beyond the desert's dunes || a vash/wolfwood fic written for the Trigun Gotcha for Gaza

for @goddessesofeverything , hope you enjoy it and thank you for donating <3

The sun rays falling through the high windows are the deep gold of last light before sunset. Incense is swirling in them lazily, and the shadows around the crooks and corners in the Throne Room are thrown in sharp contrast by them.

They also mean that the hour for audiences is already past, yet the quarrel that has been brought before the King continues. A barley farmer claims they have not received adequate water distribution to their fields for five days now, while the one responsible for the canal system in their area claims otherwise.

Wolfwood could already tell about an hour ago that they won't be getting to the truth of this without a thorough investigation and that therefore, listening to them accuse each other of foul play is a waste of time. But the King is never quick to dismiss his subjects, always wanting them to know that he takes their troubles seriously and will treat their word as equal to his own.

The King also needs rest, and quiet. It's been a long afternoon of audiences, and every time Wolfwood glances at his King—at his mate, his very pregnant mate—he looks on the cusp of falling asleep sitting up.

And so for the past few hours, while remaining stoic and calm on the outside, Wolfwood has been inwardly torn between his duty and subservience towards his King, and his protectiveness towards and worry about his mate.

Read on AO3

[whatever-you-can-give-me]

gasp!!! concerning the mini-fic prompts…. vashwood for 11 or 20? 👹

20. things you said that i wasn’t meant to hear

trimax, semi-established vashwood, mid-canon — i know you know i know you know i know you know...

It’s not exactly unusual for Wolfwood to get up in the middle of the night. 

He’s not often restless, particularly since they started sharing first a room and then a bed, to cut down on costs as their pooled savings dwindled and their luck ran worse than usual. 

But he’s still human — he gets up sometimes. To smoke, to stretch, to piss. He tries not to wake Vash when he does it, carefully shifting from under the blanket to avoid letting in a draft. 

Vash sleeps far too lightly for even Wolfwood’s most careful movements not to wake him, but he feigns sleep all the same. Easier that way.

He expects to hear Wolfwood go to the window, or into the adjoining bathroom, but instead he hears the conspicuous rustling of someone trying to put their clothes on without making much noise.

There's a soft little exhale, almost entirely hidden by the noise of his clothes — weary, trembling slightly. It hooks deep into Vash's chest, jolts him wide awake, but he stays where he is, and waits.

Wolfwood breathes out another shaky little sigh from somewhere by the door, then closes it carefully behind him. 

Vash, with something between guilt, painful curiosity, and recalcitrance, goes to the window, peering through the ramshackle shutters, waiting for Wolfwood to leave the hotel.

He does, soon enough, but he doesn’t go anywhere — he stops right outside the doors, and a shape slinks out of the dark to join him.

It’s not a human shape.

Vash’s tired brain spins, gears clicking uselessly for a moment, before he recognizes it — Zazie.

Zazie, vessel of the worms, in tentative alliance with Knives, over an agreement on who shouldn’t be sovereign of No Man’s Land. That’s all Vash has gotten out of them. No clarity on whether he and they reached an agreement over which sovereignty should replace humans — Vash doubts it. Knives doesn’t compromise.

“It’s taking too long. You’re leading him in circles.”

Wolfwood lights a cigarette. “You try leading someone somewhere when they’re supposed to be thinking that you’re the one following.”

Vash feels like he’s swallowed ice.

He steps back from the window, crawls back into bed, tries to count prime numbers up from two as far as he can go instead of hearing the words echo in his head.

It’s not like he didn’t already know. He just doesn’t want to think about it. 

Easier that way.

[shastafirecracker]

Heyo! Sorry for coming into ur ask box randomly but I was thinking about one of ur responses to the last ask meme about how you have some ideas stewing on the backburner that, if you wrote them, would probably be huge and maybe more work than you could have time/energy for. if the universe was the perfect place that we deserve where we could just. beam our thoughts into a blank doc perfectly somehow, what are a couple of the things that you'd write?

aw man... well, in no particular order, I've done very rough idea-sketching for the following trigun AUs:

basically Stephen King's The Mist except a bunch of people are stuck in a diner were Vash (vagrant with mysterious past) is working as a dishwasher and Wolfwood (priest who manages the orphanage attached to a megachurch with deep corruption) is taking about a dozen kids out for lunch so that Miss Melanie can get some shut-eye. the mist happens and all sorts of dramas afflict the diner and then when a select bunch end up running for it (led by the newly-bonded-in-fire V&W) they need to traverse a town full of fog and nightmares to find Melanie, the rest of the kids, and a way to escape

seafaring AU wherein Knives and Vash are selkies and Knives stole his own twin's skin and keeps Vash imprisoned in the belly of his infamous Flying Dutchman-style ghost ship called the Ark. Wolfwood died at sea and was offered a soul-indenture deal as crew for the Ark and now he's the assistant ships' cook and has all sorts of religious trauma. he finds a mysterious naked, scarred man in the bilge and slowly unfolds the truth and vows to steal back Vash's skin, even knowing that he himself can never leave the Ark.

beauty and the beast AU with uncanny monster Vash in a thorned-in castle... parts of this ended up in my big bang fic

fae court AU where Vash and Knives are the summer & winter, seelie & unseelie double faces of the same entity, who maybe split themselves in half during (or in reaction to) a past trauma? (some of the aesthetic of this made it to the BB fic)

a fantasy prince!Vash & knight!Wolfwood AU in which the twins are supposedly the children of the late princess Rem and her husband Alex but actually they were secretly foundlings of unknown origin and it's a scandal for them to be claimed as royalty. meanwhile the king's master alchemist is doing some human experimentation bullshit on the downlow and is stealing scullery kids and orphans who muck the stables for pennies or whatever, and doing Eye of Michael nonsense to them. Wolfwood is such a success that he's quietly slipped back into palace life as a page, to act as a closed mouth and open ears to the affairs of nobles etc. He and Vash are age peers and end up running into each other and becoming fast friends over years; meanwhile Knives is uncovering the corruption in the castle and instead of reporting it, he's taking it over. this one would for real for real be way too long for me to ever write, because I was daydreaming that it would go on for like, multiple action set pieces and changes of status quo, and several decades of Vash & WW's lives, and eventually Knives would kill the king and take over, and V & WW would be the outlaw & his rogue knight, and yadda yadda yadda it's a 450K fanfic that I want to read but not write

music scene AU in which WW is stage crew and Vash is the reclusive identical twin of famous punk/glam rocker Knives (stage name), and WW finds the person he thinks is the talent wandering lost backstage and is like these goddamn stars always so goddamn high, ugh, until he chases Vash down and Vash is like ohhh no I'm just back here because my brother invited me ahaha... hi you're cute... IDK, this could be long or it could just be a short PWP of vashwood hooking up in the green room, lol

direct Green Knight AU in which Wolfwood is the fledgling knight starved for praise who doesn't actually like violence and prefers softness and comfort, but when he perceives his masculinity as being tested he goes all-in on violence and does the classic thing of beheading the Green Knight in the contest of blows. and then he goes on his journey etc etc and encounters Lord Bertilak, who would be Vash, and they play the game of exchanges of gifts, except in this version when the lady of the house gives WW a sexual favor he doesn't cheap out like the movie did and not have Dev Patel give Joel Edgerton a handjob! it was right there! come on, we were robbed! ahem. uh. yeah. a lot of this ended up in my BB fic also. XD

like a Mr & Mrs Smith comedy AU in which Vash and Wolfwood both are either criminals or one is a criminal and one is an undercover operative and they're both trying to blow the whistle on Knives' crime ring without letting each other get wind of what they're doing and it plays out for way too long before they finally realize they were doing the same thing the whole time

I did the research for this whole fuckin thing set in 1814 England of Vash having just come home from losing an arm in the Napoleonic Wars and becoming friends with the local Anglican priest who takes his confessions i.e. is just the only person he can talk to through his PTSD and also both of them agonizingly realizing that they're queer and into each other... and after doing all this research I was like, what the fuck am I doing, I don't even really like historical dramas.

Great Fall happens on a water planet??? (I mean everyone's gotta wish they could do an alternate-biome-Trigun, right? I've seen the ice planet AU art out there which is PHENOMENAL)

Vash is a high school chemistry teacher who pranks his students at least once a semester by pretending to blow up his arm, Wolfwood is a special education teacher, Milly's the coach (of everything), Meryl's the haggard and perpetually harassed economics teacher, the climax of the plot is prom and V&W goofily act out the proms of their own they never got to go to, and they fuck in a limo, idk. this one's a comedy

I think about AU ideas a normal amount

[sleepy-writes-stuff]

TRIGUN WRITING PROMPT

So this is a bit of a deviation from the usual prompts I come up with, but come on. It was bound to happen eventually. I've been stuck in Trigun hell since January. I'm honestly surprised I didn't come up with a prompt sooner. Not really expecting this one to gain much attention but wanted to write it down anyway.

⚠️Spoiler Warning!⚠️

I will be going more off of the manga, mainly the ending, and possibly(?) some of the 98 anime! You have been warned! This is gonna be sad and angsty, btw. When isn't it tho?

✦

What if after all is said and done, the humans pack up everything and make their way back to Earth and inadvertently leave Vash behind?

They literally couldn't find him for once. Everyone leaving could happen almost immediately after things settle down after the climax or it could take more time. Either way works, but he still gets left behind on No Man's Land/Gunsmoke like a dog left to die on a deserted island.

Vash is completely drained of energy, figuratively and literally, after the whole ordeal with Knives but he still has quite a bit of life left in him. He wanders the empty deserts ceaselessly for centuries, his mind slowly withering away as he starts to question if any of it was ever even real and he just had a really fucked up dream.

He starts losing memories. Forgetting faces. The sounds of his friends voices. His brother's smile. The words to Rem's lullaby she always sang. His body is slowly deteriorating as well, so much so he can barely maintain the energy and balance to walk. He's starting to wonder what's the point in moving anymore. The point in living.

Right as he's convinced himself he should just lay down and never get back up again, he blindly stumbles into a giant cloth wrapped cross half embedded in the ground.

At first, he doesn't know what to make of it with his vision weak and blurry from exhaustion. After almost a full minute of staring at it he places a shaking hand against the sturdy crucifix and drags himself closer until he's leaning heavily against it. He brushes his thumb gently back and forth against the bindings that conceal the massive gun as tears spill from his eyes with what little moisture his body has left. He starts to smile, weak though it may be.

"Hello, again." He says with a cracked whisper.

His body shakes with the echoes of grief from long ago, crying silently all the while. He sits there for quite some time until he eventually drifts off sleep to the memories of the man he would've loved to have spent the rest of his life with. Hours pass. His tears eventually dry up. His body grows cold.

He doesn't get back up again.

✦

That's all I got. For now. I'll probably make a few more prompts if any more ideas come to me. I'd love to see someone flesh this out a bit more into an actual angst fic tho! Trigun just really puts one in the mood to have their heart ripped out for some reason. At least in my case.

[needle-noggins]

A Guide to eezybree's Trigun Fanfiction

Hi all! For @trigunfanfic appreciation week, I would like to do a little self-promo. I've only been writing fanfic for about a year (if you don't count my POTC fic from middle school) but it has changed my life and I'm really proud of what I've done so far. If you'd like to read some of my stuff, here's a quick guide!

Bluebells | E | Vashmeryl | 43k, in progress | post-canon Trimax, canon-compliant | Hurt/Comfort, Emotionally-driven, Character-driven. My long fic about Vash and Meryl figuring out life after Trimax. It's mostly Meryl POV, with an emphasis on her PTSD and trauma, but Vash is even more messed up. He's lost and grieving both Wolfwood and his brother, and Meryl's hangups about his nature as a plant certainly don't help their feelings of loneliness even as they're living together. It doesn't help that the ghost of Wolfwood won't leave the damn room. They work it out together while still acknowledging the things that haunt them - Vash's grief and Meryl's fear - and put on a brave face for the TV special on his life. This fic has converted a few people to see Vashmeryl, has made people laugh and cry, and has inspired a little bit of art. This fic is my baby, and I'm so so damn proud of it. ALSO: The smut is skippable!

Funeral Rites | T | Vashwood | 3k | Trimax canon-compliant Vol. 10 Burial fic. My first fic and still beloved. Vash buries Wolfwood and gets weird about it, would you expect any less? This baby is so chock-full of love and grief.

Freaks of Nurture | M | Gen/Vashwood | 2.8k | any canon. Vash gets vivisected and he hallucinates that the surgeon is Knives. Wolfwood gets triggered to hell trying to save him. This is my best and weirdest prose, and I had the most fun writing this. Dead doves abound here.

Silent Night | T | Gen | 4k | Pre-canon sci-fi epistolary-style story of Rem on the SEEDS expedition, leading up to the birth of the twins. My heaviest sci-fi with Rem's grief over her late partner Alex and regret over Tesla running throughout. I adore this fic. It was also inspired by Lenipez's Becoming Eden series, and in turn inspired another Rem-centric fic by mydetheturk!

Fresh Cut | E | Millionsummers | 5.7k | DEADEST DOVE. DESSICATED. My uhhh... body horror smut and essay on what compels me about the messed-up relationship between Legato and Knives. I wrote most of this on a plane (in public). This one is very kinky and weird and somehow hot, if you're into getting visions of your lover cannibalizing you when he comes.

Cigarettes & Saints | E | Mashwood | 3.8K | post-canon Trimax, set somewhere within/after Bluebells. Vash and Meryl visit a grave outside Hopeland and they... get weird with it. One of the tags is Outdoor Sex, and it does a lot of the heavy lifting. Wolfwood's ghost pays them a visit in Vash's butt. This sounds incredibly silly but it's very sweet and sad and there isn't a single dry eye by the end of the fic.

Growing Black Irises | T | Stryfewood | 1k | set somewhere in Bluebells again. Here's how post-canon trimax stryfewood can still win, but oh no it's painful and somehow sweet. So much yearning and regret over things never said or done.

Lightning Rod | M | Elendira POV | 1K | Trigun Stampede | Body Horror week fic; there's a dead dove in here. Inspired by Beelzebby666's Elendira/Tesla, I wanted to explore Elendira's thoughts and feelings about growing up and being experimented on, lauded as Knives' new Tesla. Compels me.

Learn to count on you (as my own fingers) | G | Vashmeryl | 800 words | Any canon. Meryl helps Vash clean his prosthetic, and it's very sweet.

Meet in the Middle (Like Pistols at Dawn) | G | Vashmeryl | 672 words | Domestic Fluff and Sillies. For the indirect kiss prompt for Vashmeryl week. I just really love writing them be goofy and sweet.

Ship to Wreck | T | Stryfewood | 1.6k | Pirate AU! Two small scenes of my pirate AU that is actually a bit more elaborate than the fic lets on. It's a fun time.

Raising Hell | T | Trigun OCs | 1.7k | If you ever had more questions about my silly trigun OC Fanny Paine, well, here's half her backstory. This was fun to write and got me out of a funk! I may write more again. I love Fanny.

[frogenthusiastt]

19/sea change for prompt meme?

19. Sea change (totally read this as sea of change because i couldnt think of a single thing to match this prompt lol sorry)

The first lesson Nicholas is taught is loneliness.

At 8 years old he's long since learnt that he lacks the cherubic qualities required to be granted adoption by a rich, childless couple. He looks poor and desolate, sure, but not in the way that makes adults want to swoop him up into a blanket and coo over his poor fate. He wears the kind of thousand yard stare that makes them avert their eyes in discomfort, that reminds them of the casualties of poverty in the entirely wrong way.

Still, he has Livio trailing after his steps like a lost puppy. Together they learn how to live like weeds growing in the cracks of pavement, how to be alone together. It's a lesson to be learnt, for sure, how to keep the lights on in the dark.

The second lesson he learns is shame.

Mask clad adults, clapping and telling him welcome child, to the path of God. They pat him on his back and ruffle his hair, all gloved impersonal hands.

The Eye of Michael teach him how to chant the psalms, how to recount his sins and that salvation lies in abandonment of your body and acquiescence of pain. He's taught the vital points of the body and how to gouge knives in the hearts of men, as by one man sin entered into the world, and death by sin; and so death passed upon all men, for that all have sinned. His body grows and grows into a holy weapon, and he learns how to kill a man without flinching. This is a terrible lesson.

The third lesson is pain.

Nicholas has known pain before, like a distant uncle. Now pain is his mother and father, his creation and Eucharist. Once he'd proven his body a worthy tool before Chapel and the acolytes, they take him apart into his base components and Unmake him into something inhuman. Terrible liquids seep into his body through needles and plastic tubes, for this is the Blood of the Covenant and through it thou shalt be made Holy. His flesh is carved and replaced, for Holy is the body of Christ and through it thou shalt be made perfect and free from Sin.

When he is lucky, they sedate him and the world becomes a technicolor kaleidoscope of visions to keep his thoughts occupied. He doesn't know if it's on purpose or just an accidental side effect of whatever chemicals they put in him but he takes it gratefully, thankful for just a moment to breathe throughout the nightmare of hurt.

He never learns what exactly they did to him, but when he's finally released from that terrible white room, he looks in the mirror and finds something other staring back. It takes years for him to recognize it as his face.

The fourth lesson is in efficiency.

Whatever it was they took out of him left an empty hole in his mind. Wherever regret or empathy used to be, only survival remains. Survival means to submit to the hand that's fed him, to take whatever chances given for a paycheck and the lives of the orphanage secured. He doesn't remember the faces of the people he kills, nor their pleas for mercy. He's a cold outer shell in the shape of a man, and so he becomes the employee of the month, of the year, of the decade.

The twist of a tendon, the flick of a wrist to sever flesh from bone, even the stab of a knitting needle through the head to save him the hassle of cleanup. These are the ways he earns a living, and he's damn good at his job. He steels himself against terror and lets the fear of fire and brimstone flow around him and through him like the hull of a sandsteamer, no worse for wear after he's crossed the sands of a thousand bodies piled underneath his feet. He becomes what he's been made to be, finds meaning in his function and keeps the lights on for the children at home. He's efficient, he's good at his job and that's all that counts.

His fifth and final lesson hits him with a truck. He walks in a daze, only half put upon to garner sympathy, and when he lies there bloody and disheveled hope walks out the side door of the car.

It is the most terrible lesson of all, the way the man calls him by name and looks through him like there is any softness in his body worth that blinding smile. Hope tells him that he's something worth salvation, wearing impossible blue eyes and the face of his brother. Nothing Wolfwood has ever been taught prepares him for this unwavering belief in goodness, the warm caress of a mismatched hands against his cheeks, the way he utters his name like it's something precious.

Hope finds him late at night, in soft touches and a hushed voice. Hope foolishly makes him stay in the morning when sunlight paints the white sheets wrapped around a body incandescent and flaxen hair golden. Hope puts his lips against lips, hands against hands, in desperate prayer to keep this one soft thing safe. Hope lights a fire against his will, forces his to look at his life with kinder eyes and wish for another day to come, and Wolfwood has asked for exactly none of it.

Hope laughs at his jokes and whines at his teasing and holds him trembling at night. If he was half the weapon he was made, he would cast it off and escape into the wasteland. It turns out the hands that fed him did a piss poor job of it, because he stays and stays and stays.

It is hope that has him rage at the dying of the light, knees bent in penance against the cold stone floor of the church. Blood splatters against it in a fearful rhythm, body contorted to support himself against the heavy weight of the cross. Still he rages, still he hopes, still he curses the God that made his fate. That he would learn his final lesson, as he lay here dying, must be some terrible cosmic joke from an uncaring creator.

As Wolfwood stills, he takes hope with him. It's the cruelest lesson of all.

[beelzebby666]

New chapter soon, and I'm going to try and do ficlets for each prompt but for now, I wanna promo my t4t vashwood fic for @trans3gun 🩵🩷🤍

honeysuckle red / rated: e / modern au / vashwood / chapters: 4/? / vash keeps bees, wolfwood is a sad linecook, they meet at a bar and have a sappy fuckbuddies to lovers romance

[pancake-breakfast]

I feel like I got super-lucky with the @holidayspirits-on-gunsmoke Secret Santa gift exchange, since I got to write for @deludedfantasy! Thank you SO MUCH for all your support on my other Trigun fics! I hope you enjoy this little Vashwood sickfic based on one of the prompts you submitted.

I had a lot of fun writing it! (Not so much fun coming up with the title, which took me like four days to decide on.) It's sweet with just a hint of spice and angst. I hope it's to your taste!

[linkdedruid]

Reunion || Vashwood

Rating: T

CW: drinking, mild swearing

Word Count: 1.1k

Author's Note: Trade with the ever so talented @macncherries! One of my few canon x canon fics, and my first Vashwood piece! I hope you like it!!!!

Credits: Banners by @benkeibear

Tag List (ask for add/remove): @macncherries @chris-continues

When Nicholas hears the cheery 'hello!' from another random patron of this rundown bar, he's sure he's mistaken. He doesn't want to turn around, doesn't want to face the reality that he won't be there. Instead, he focuses on the drink in front of him, shifting the glass to watch the alcohol within slosh against the sides of the glass. He downs the contents in a single go, the harsh burn of cheap liquor burning down his throat.

"Bartender, 'nother one." He grumbles to the young man behind the bar, subconsciously noting the blonde hair that's just a little too pale and a little too wavy to be right.

"Of course, sir." He nods, pouring another for him with and easy tilt of his wrist.

"Thanks." Nicholas grunts, the glass already in his hand once more as he lifts it in a solitary somber toast. "To forgettin', even if only for a little while."

He doesn't down this one immediately, trying to pace himself so he doesn't end up passed out in some back alley. He barely notices the taste as he sees the bartender move to a new patron as his slips out of his range of vision.

"What can I do ya for, stranger?" The bartender prompts, friendly and bubbly. Just like him… Nicholas recalls bitterly.

"Just a double whiskey, neat." The patron replies, and Nicholas is certain he's just hearing things.

"Coming right up!" The bartender chirps, the sound of a glass hitting the counter following soon after.

"Thank you."

Nicholas' fingers grip the glass tight enough his knuckles turn white. Don't look. Don't do this to yourself again… He tries to convince himself, but he's just a man. He gives in to his desperate need for this mind trick to be real and turns to look at the newcomer out of the corner of his eye.

He blinks once, twice, not believing what he's seeing. Somehow, he has to have passed out at the bar because this can't be real. He can't be real. He's staring; he knows he is, but he can't look away. Not when he sees the mole just under his eye, the exact blonde shade of his hair, and the metal prosthetic.

"…Vash?" He breathes, terrified that he's dreaming or hallucinating.

"Huh?" The man looks over, and Nicholas is knows it's him by the look in his eyes. Those perfect baby blues, currently wide with surprise, have been haunting his dreams for nearly 2 years.

"It's you…" Nicholas replies, his voice quiet as if he's afraid he'll scare him away if he's too loud. "It's really you, Needle Noggin."

"How'd you find me?" Vash asks, his surprise ebbing away slightly.

"I thought you were dead, Needle Noggin. I was just stopping here on my way to Augusta." He replies, his drink all but forgotten as he can still barely believe his eyes.

"I should be." The blonde's eyes drop to the scratched wood bartop, sorrow and regret practically coming off the man in waves.

"No, you shouldn't be. I know what happened in Julai wasn't your fault, no matter what the reports say." Nicholas' hand thumps against the bar, his drink sloshing slightly in the glass with the force of the impact.

"It was, Wolfwood. It was." Vash insists, the fingers of his biological hand curling into a tight fist on his lap.

Nicholas can't suppress the flinch as Vash addresses him by his last name. He wishes he'd call him Nick again like he used to. He wants those cold desert nights back more than he can fathom. He wants the feeling of cold metal fingers slowly warming against his own calloused fingers as they lay side by side in the dunes. He wants the feeling of soft, fluffy hair nestled against his chest as small snores drift on the desert winds. He wants to trace his fingertips over the soft features he knows better than his own. He wants Vash; he wants the two of them together again.

"Vash…" Nicholas breathes his name like a prayer, and he supposes it may as well be one. "It wasn't your fault. You can't take responsibility for what…he did."

Nicholas watches as Vash tenses in anticipation of hearing his brother's name, that tension easing just slightly as Nicholas avoids saying it. He doesn't need to scare him away. Not when he's so close to having him back.

"But it was for me." Vash whispers, his eyes meeting Nicholas' with tears brimming in those baby blues.

"That doesn't make it your fault." Nicholas assures him, his hand reaching for Vash's atop his thigh. "You didn't ask him to do any of it. You never would have."

Vash doesn't immediately reply, his expression hidden by the long fringe of blonde hair that's grown significantly longer in the intervening two years as he looks down at where Nicholas' finger rest mere mere inches from his own. He has to be the one to make the move to close that infinitisimal gap between them. Nicholas wont push him. He knows this the way he knows his left pocket holds several lollipops while his right hold the small metal lighter he's always playing with. Even after two years, he can't help but remember those little things. He remembers the scratch of stubble against his skin and the smell of cigarettes and the desert sun.

"Look, we don't have to talk about this now." Nicholas says after several tense moments of silence, his free hand digging in his pocket to pull out several crumpled bills that he slaps unceremoniously on the bar. "I'm gonna pay for your drink and at least make sure you get a good night's rest in my room. You look like you haven't seen a proper bed in God knows how long."

"You always had a way with words." Vash chuckles, the sound doing more to bring hope to Nicholas' heart than anything else thus far. "But okay."

"Good. Now, finish your drink, Needle Noggin." Nicholas demands.

He almost misses the shift of Vash's hand as it moves to rest on top of his own. Nicholas thinks he could cry. Fuck, has he really been so touch-starved that just having someone's hand on his feels like the Heaven he'll never be allowed into? He's sure it has to be because it's his hand, his fingers curling around his with muscle memory built up over months of travelling together. As it is, he has to swallow the lump in his throat along with his liquor as he downs his glass.

"Whatever you say…Nick."

Vash gives him a small weak smile as he knocks back his own drink with a practiced motion, his face twitching with the unpleasant burn of cheap whiskey. Nicholas has to fight the grin threatening to split his face as his hand shifts to lace his own fingers with Vash's under the bartop.

"Damn right, Blondie."

[trigunfanfic]

hey, i don't really know how much work it is to make an event, though i think it would be great to have a blog that kind of collects these events so more people will see them and also it can all be found in the same place (thinking of it because there is a vashwood week comming up hostet by vashwood-week) but mostly i was wondering if a combined thing would be of interest? like vashmeryl week, vashwood week, angst war, fluff week, whatever, with prompts for each day, as normal. but to encourage people that don't write or draw for it for whatever reason could instead recommend a fanart or fanfic. or show of an old fanwork they already have that fits the prompt. so like a combo of giving ideas prompts for new ideas and to promote older stuff too? or something like a 1-comment-a-day-week. like something that encourages but does not imply a lot of work like making a rec list or writing or drawing something new anyway thanks a lot for trigunfanfictionappreciation week!

I've run/am running two other events besides this; @stryfewoodweek (finished) and @trans3gun (which is coming up soon!) and they're pretty manageable for me so long as it's not, like, assigning and connecting people like bbs and ss are!

That said, I'm not sure how well I could keep track of other events by my lonesome and usually those events have blogs to let you go through and take a look at what everyone has done, so I'm not sure whether or not it would end up sort of redundant, unfortunately.

But! I do really love the comment a day week idea. Or generally doing events that encourage engagement like comments or maybe having people share fics they reread, things like that!

[hjemne]

Any vashwood fic prompts? Either sfw or nsfw

[shondhamaloti]

piety

“they’re hunks of meat on their way to becoming compost. what dignity do they have?” “everyone is born with dignity.” even you, vash omits diplomatically. “everyone deserves to be put to rest. every life means something.”

summary

character study that mulls over some of the nuances in how vash and wolfwood might navigate religion

tags

fandom: trigun [trigun maximum]

for: vashwood week 2023; day IV prompt - faith

characters and dynamics: vash the stampede; nicholas d. wolfwood; heavy allusions to some sort of established vashwood

tropes: trimax-verse; character study; relationship study; lesbian vashwood; Gender ™ [implied butch vash (he/him) & butch wolfwood (she/her)]; standard fare of religious introspection; vash is not stone in this fic but let it be known that i am a stone butch vash truther

word count: ~ 4 195

excerpt: franny choi, catastrophe is next to godliness

rating & content warnings

rated: M for sexual content

link