#vwl series
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Trick, or perhaps, Treat 🎃
here's another smidgen from the new VWL fic starring Vash being unbearable, except this is a nice moment (or is it??) and appropriate for Hallowed Ween
"He remembers being at his desk, the pieces of his prosthetic arranged on a towel in front of him, a cleaning rag and a bottle of oil and a repair kit all close to hand. He remembers wind through the open balcony door carrying in the evening smell of smoke from a small brush-burning, where the kids were roasting marshmallows, supervised by adults from town who'd brought their own kids over to join the bonfire. A momentary respite for the orphanage's caretakers.
A cold beer, a fine night, a ritual task, the taste of tobacco fresh on his palate from Wolfwood passing through, asking if he wanted to join the fun outdoors. Vash had said no but leaned back in his chair to accept a kiss, smiling, and he'd been so happy."
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series! when a fic is great and you can't get enough of it, what's better than finding out that it's part of a series?
Badlands Roulette - by Aki_no_hikari
Vash and Wolfwood and their mostly canon compliant travels across No Man's Land.
The Ballad of Vash and Wolfwood - by severalspoons
the story of Vash and Wolfwood's relationship in animeverse.
does your boy build coffins? - by beelzebby666
just an undertaker.
don't deny what your poor heart needs - by littleghost
the cowboy AU from day one and its sequels.
Evolving Arrangement and Balance - by TiggyMalvern
Vash and Wolfwood have an arrangement. It turns into a relationship.
in the shape of things to come - by tagteamme
Wolfwood and Vash haven't defined their relationship.
The Second Celestial Evening - by tragic_unpaired_electron
it starts off with first few decades of Vash's life from Brad's perspective as he adjusts to being an adoptive parent to an Independent Plant. in the second installment, Vash is as close to death as he's ever been. and in the third, he finally returns Home to prepare for when he has to face Knives.
to have a body is to be a horror show - by beelzebby666
technically not a series, but a collection of one-shots of body horror that was too good not to include.
Vashwood Anthology and VWL OT3 - by ShastaFirecracker
first series is kind of angsty, second is kind of fluffy and i adore them both.
whumptober 2023 and trigun body horror week 2024 - by procrastinatingbookworm
because sometimes, they're just cuter when they're limping and covered in blood.
Write Your Ticket - by WateredMyCrops
Vash and Wolfwood are subjected to the mortifying ordeal of being known.
@trigunfanfic
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MAR14
Workshop
Rain Down Words
GRIEF AND LOSS WRITING TO HEAL FOUR WEEK SERIES: Session #1
Wednesday, March 14, 2018
6:30 PM 9:00 PM
Vancouver Women’s Library (map)
There are no ‘shoulds’ in grief. It will often take longer than it 'should’ and always longer than you want it to. Writing through grief can be healing, as the words on paper are spoken from the heart. Authentic mourning anchored in feeling your feelings is an opportunity to embrace your open heart in ways that allow for and encourage healing.
MAR21
Workshop
Rain Down Words
GRIEF AND LOSS WRITING TO HEAL FOUR WEEK SERIES: Session #2
Wednesday, March 21, 2018
6:30 PM 9:00 PM
Vancouver Women’s Library (map)
Through guided meditation and structured writes explore the different dimensions of grief and yourself. Obtain the relief that comes when you can express your thoughts and feelings and know that you have put them down somewhere. Whether the grief you carry is from an actual death or from some of the many losses we sustain in life, come and be welcomed into a safe space with other grief journeyers.
MAR22
Workshop
Rain Down Words
GRIEF AND LOSS WRITING TO HEAL: Grief Writing Workshop (Single Evening)
Thursday, March 22, 2018
6:30 PM 9:00 PM
Vancouver Women’s Library (map)
Through guided meditation and structured writes explore the different dimensions of grief and yourself. Obtain the relief that comes when you can express your thoughts and feelings and know that you have put them down somewhere. Whether the grief you carry is from an actual death or from some of the many losses we sustain in life, come and be welcomed into a safe space with other grief journeyers.
MAR24
Class
WEST AFRICAN DANCE: with Chiamaka Mogo
Saturday, March 24, 2018
5:00 PM 6:00 PM
The Vancouver Women’s Library (map)
Chiamaka is the founder of the Initiative for Inclusive Dialogue in Nigeria (IIDN) - a nonprofit dedicated to empowering communities through awareness of good governance principles, and building capacities for better engagement with the state.
She is an enthusiastic lover of Nigerian music and dance, believing firmly in their power to create positivity and connections wherever she goes.
CLAIM YOUR SPOT NOW
Drop-ins are also welcome, please give us a call or email to inquire about space: [email protected] / 604-620-0400.
MAR25
Event
VWL TALKS: Women of Courage
Sunday, March 25, 2018
4:00 PM 5:30 PM
Russian Hall (map)
Three amazing women of courage share their life and work followed by a panel discussion and question & answer period discussing what it means to be courageous, and what it means to be a courageous woman, in our time.
MAR25
Event
VWL’s 1st Annual Ouroboros Gala: With the Loving Food of Tayybeh
Sunday, March 25, 2018
6:30 PM 11:30 PM
Russian Hall (map)
Tickets to this gala fundraiser include free childcare, free entry to VWL Talks: Women of Courage, a cash and ticket bar, beautiful art and goods on silent auction, tasteful live entertainment on stage, and an intergenerational dance party to top things off!
MAR28
Workshop
Rain Down Words
GRIEF AND LOSS WRITING TO HEAL FOUR WEEK SERIES: Session #3
Wednesday, March 28, 2018
6:30 PM 9:00 PM
Vancouver Women’s Library (map)
There are no 'shoulds’ in grief. It will often take longer than it 'should’ and always longer than you want it to. Writing through grief can be healing, as the words on paper are spoken from the heart. Authentic mourning anchored in feeling your feelings is an opportunity to embrace your open heart in ways that allow for and encourage healing.
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Algunos tipos tienen toda la suerte *
No sabíamos lo que hacíamos. Estábamos todos amontonados en un Renault 18 break. El papá de Franco manejaba en silencio. Lalo, Nico adelante. Guido, Mariano, Turba, Marta y Flor atrás. Roxy y Maca y yo en el fondo apretados. Maca tenía un jeans cortados, Roxie una remera de Van Halen. Los varones ibamos vestidos como para la cancha, cómodos y el dni. No andaba el aire acondicionado. Las ventanas iban abiertas. Cuatro de nosotros teníamos entradas truchas, artesanalmente fotocopiadas. Todavía no envidiábamos esa regularidad deshumanizada del primer mundo. Solo fantaseábamos con esa libertad que no sabíamos, venía con reglas y leyes. El buen rock como el pop solo podía venir de lugares exactos y puntuales. Sudamérica era salvaje. Argentina era salvaje. Recién se abrían las puertas hacia los 90´s. La libertad empezaba a llegar a nuestras vidas en forma de peinados, colores, visitas, pop y rock en vivo que solo habíamos escuchado en casets o en imaginado en revistas. Era el verano justo antes de volver a clases. Manteníamos nuestros bronceados, la rebeldía que otorga el calor y los secretos de las vacaciones, y el pelo largo. Algunos habíamos visto Amnesty Internacional por televisión y mi hermano me había contado todo. El de Sting lo escuché por la radio. Creo que no eran recitales para fanáticos sino bienvenidas a cualquier visita. Podías escuchar su música el día del anuncio de la fecha y ya te iba a gustar. Mi pimer recital fue un affaire de estadio. En mi grupo era normal que algún padre nos llevara y nos acercara a los primeros vallados y ya caminando solos olíamos las especies, las esencias, lo esencial, y memorizábamos la ropa, los estilos, la forma de hablar y los pelos de la música ligera. Tenía doce años. Creo que el baterista de Def Leppard todavía tenía dos brazos. Con los nervios de la edad, y supertorpeza pre adolescente fuimos atravesando los vallados y las puertas. Ibamos a este evento para poder contarlo. Alguien en alguna casa lo grabaría en VHS y lo volveríamos a ver y volver a ver sin cansarnos. Ya habíamos entrado con nuestro tickets y papelitos falseados. Ahora no queríamos acercar hasta el escenario. Conocíamos las leyendas de los desmayados y las carpas de auxilio. A los costados y atrás muchos grupos de chicas y de chicos charlaban ansiosamente, bailaban y rock de cabojate, limeño, bailes tribales semidemocráticos. Todo era alegría, cada minuto iba a ser importado. Muchos hacían rondas sentados en el piso. Mujeres divinas paseaban arriba de hombros de hombres del renacimiento. Era insólito. Solo con una guitarra acústica, Luis Alberto Spinetta tocó unas canciones antes del turno del ex Faces y el público le tiraba monedas. Ya nadie parecía querer valorar nuestro dulce de leche ni la birome. Años más tarde leí que el Flaco dijo al mic -Chicos, junten monedas que viene la inflación, - y dio en la tecla con el pronóstico. Tocó Téster de violencia, un poco de La la la, Muchacha ojos de paper. Yo no conocía a Spinetta. Había oído hablar pero los músicos rioplatenses de voz finita y desolada me hacía pensar en el comunismo o en los 70´s. Y nosotros queríamos abrirnos paso a todo lo que no eramos, no podíamos y creíamos que merecíamos. Todo es un aprendizaje aunque no lo comprendas veinte años después. Y después de las monedas, los aplausos, los gritos demenciales, los derrames cerebrales y los cánticos de cancha a medida de Rod se apagaron todas las luces. Empezaba mi primer recital. Estaba oliendo el porro y no lo sabía. –eso es droga- me dijo Lele. Algunos nos quedamos a un costado y el resto desapareció en el medio de la gente. Se encendieron las luces. Ah! Con un saco amarillo, panalones ajustados, camisa blanca, corbata versachense y el pelo dorado de un león que conoce mejor que nadie su savanah pateó una pelota a la tribuna al mejor estilo Diego. Movía la cintura y revoleaba el micrófono. Piernas calientes, hot legs you are driving me crazy. La música no llegaba. Ya la llevábamos adentro. La música nos decía lo que queríamos que fuera. Vale O, movía los brazos arriba de un novio. Mujeres de mis sueños se mostraban como nunca las había visto. Desaforadas soñando con la cámara. Era la música que llevábamos dentro. Te amo nena, i love you honey y el público saltaba y cantaba como en la tribuna del fútbol. Era un público bilingüe. Era un renacimiento de sentidos. No era solo un concierto. Era un desfile de modas, un viaje en el tiempo, un pasaje a Glasgow y la Folrida con palmeras vietnamitas. Después de la obsesión, infatuation, Tonight´s the night. Hoy era la noche, y todo , todo iba a estar alright. Nos creíamos californianos. Pero Rod era escocés y hablaba como resistiendo un vómito milenario. El tren del bajo para todos nosotros era suya y no de Tom Waits. Con Downtown train Rod se había arreglado el tabique y hecho su pileta. Algunos tipos tienen toda la suerte. Yo me puse un cigarrillo en la boca y lo encendí. Estaba empezando a fumar con Guido, Marta y Joaquina. Esto lo íbamos a recordar algún día. Franco seguramente formaría su banda: Lele estaba tan contenta que podía llorar en cualquier momento. Oh oh oh oh oh oh. Rod se veía diminuto como un muñeco de lego pero la pantalla gigante nos acercaba. Y fue ahí. A los veinte minutos el rubio de melena coiffeur se iba quitando la ropa. Con la camisa abierta y empapado por las temperaturas de nuestro presente seguía agitando la noche y el soporte jirafa del micrófono. Y en ese instante subió Pier, nuestro francés. Pier Giúa iba con mi hermano a la clase. Pier era de la nabita del centro, de los que conocían los boliches, la música primeros. Y fue ahí que lo ví subir y correr por el escenario con un gorro de River. Ocupaba toda la pantalla gigante. Se acercó a Rod Stewart, lo abrazó y le puso el gorro en la cabeza. El gorro rojo y blanco con el escudo y millonario. Saltaron juntos unos segundos. A Pier se lo llevaron y el cantante siguió la canción con el gorrito puesto. Yo no lo podía creer. Pensé en los huevos de Pier, pensé en su suerte, en su timing y en su atrevimiento. Este seguramente iba a ser su momentum. Que podía ofrecerle la vida después? Por unos segundos había tenido al mundo en sus pies. https://tini.to/VwL Años después seguramente estudiaría administración de empresas, miraría series, exportaría frutos secos, viviría en un barrio cerrado, tendría hijos. Pero para mí, en ese momento había estado toda su suerte. Algunos me aseguran que no fue Pier el que se subió al escenario y le puso la gorrita. Otros me dicen que no se acuerdan. Tal vez fue lo que llamqn mi efecto mandela, una realidad paralela que se alimentó en mi cabeza con el tiempo. Pero yo lo ví. Fue Pier. En el video es Pier Giuá.
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A Conversation with Media Powerhouse; Jacquie Myburgh Chemaly
A previous editor of Elle South Africa and VISI magazine, amongst others, and the co-founder of Vintage With Love (the most ornate and fabulous annual second hand sale), Jacquie has- in her opinion- accidentally come into the wonderful world of fashion in everything she does.
We met to have a quick conversation about media today, how to make yourself seen in a saturated digital world, and the top 5 things every working woman needs in her wardrobe
With over 20 years of experience in the journalism and publishing world; what have you noticed has changed the most in published media?
Of course, it has to be the migration to digital media from print. I started out in the world of glossy magazines and a monthly injection of fashion and information, but these days its daily- if not hourly- and that has quite radically changed the way we produce and consume media for sure. It’s great because editors and journalists are no longer the authorities over everything we consume and are told to wear- in the fashion sphere- but rather influencers are taking over.
And which of the platforms do you enjoy the most? To consume and write for.
I quite like the digital platform. I like how instant it is and, as I said, I definitely believe that there are the leading publications. But digital media is inexpensive, which makes it open to more people obviously. It also allows for individuals to curate what they see and therefore expand their own style- instead of being told by editors, month-to-month, what they have to wear.
What advice would you give to an aspiring journalist in this world of instant information and never-ending content?
Start writing. You need to start writing and find your space. But with everyone being able to do this, and everyone trying to, there is so much content and specifically fashion content, so you need to figure out what makes you different and how to use that. Force your way into people attention, and give them a reason to stay. If it’s that you go to every single fashion week all around the world, wearing a bright red wig and taking pictures of peoples shoes, do that!
As the co-founder of Vintage with Love (VWL), how did you find the inspiration to melt retail therapy and children’s literature/charity together to create such a large event?
It started with a group of friends and I. We would hold Clothes Swap evenings where we would all meet at a friends house, bring money to add to a charity box and swap the clothes we no longer needed. Then one day my co-founder Leigh and I were speaking- she was a teacher- about how we have so many clothes and want to do something about it, and I told her about this evening I used to attend. From there, the event developed. Mind you, it began out of a garage with just hoards of our own clothes- but since has just exploded and has become what it is today.
Do you feel like fashion has always been interlaced in your career in journalism, or has it developed gradually?
My career has developed out of a series of “flukes” actually. I started out in news journalism, and am still a news junky, and was writing feature pieces for Femina magazine when the Elle job became available. I applied and from there was more and more involved with fashion. And I love fashion, but I have never been aimed towards it in career. It all just happened!
Considering the mentality of mass production and consumption, what three things do you think the everyday woman can do to minimise their impact that the fashion industry has on the current climate crisis?
I think the main thing to focus on really is where your clothes are coming from and if the brand you’re buying from is genuine in their attention to the impact. The environment and climate change are hot topics these days and a lot of brands are just hopping on the bandwagon. So you have to really investigate if they are doing anything to better the impact, or if they are just saying that they are. Secondly, try and make an effort to ensure your clothes have more than one life. Thankfully we are a country in which there are many people without, so I don’t think our country suffers from landfills covered in clothes quite like others do, which is both fantastic and saddening in reality. But just make sure you aren’t being wasteful! Finally- just buy less. We are all in such a mindset to buy buy buy, but we must realise that shopping for clothing should not be a weekly activity.
Finally; as a bonafide Girl Boss and fashion lover; what 5 items does every young woman need in their closet that might inspire them to climb the career ladder- besides the LBD.
Good trainers/sneakers, good jeans, a white shirt- boring I know, a 3/4 coat, and leather- I love leather!
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Blind ‘But-Can-Still-Hear-You-Quite-Well-Thank-You-So-Much’ Emery
Merchant of: Tokens, Trifles, antiques, hedgespun objects, relics and bric-a-brac.
Appearance: Emery is a 5′4″ woman of stocky build. Her skin is a sickly yellow and her hair is a tangle of dark green. She is, indeed, blind: her three, equidistant eyes are each milky white and without pupils. Her ears, to compensate, are large and pointed. She tends to wear multiple layers of woolen clothes and threadbare lace.
Personality: Blind Emery has a short temper and low tolerance for time-wasters. She knows the true value of what she has and is suspicious of customers who act overly charming or evasive. When being offered physical goods for trade, she inspects them with her rough hands, turning them over and sniffing them to assess their worth. She’ll bluntly describe her own wares by stating their function, rather than history or rarity. She’s also paranoid about shoplifters in her stall.
Stall: Emery’s stall is a large, walled booth: the scrap-wood partitions are covered with shelves of objects. A series of mismatched tables fill the center of the booth, similarly coated with goods. The only bare surface is on top of the ominous black safe in the back corner of the stall. Emery blusters confidently around the limited floor-space, somehow avoiding knocking over the precarious arrangements of junk.
Sample Goods: Shrunken giant heads; The Black Safe; a solid gold tire iron; a basket full of teacup handles; typwrtr wtht ny vwls; a toaster that’s perpetually on fire; The Crown of Teeth; the ugliest porcelain duckling ever created.
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Th Vwl Kllr
read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2vFh1bJ
by TechnoKid, TheVoiceoftheTurtle
Words: 31, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English
Series: Part 4 of Short Trips
Fandoms: Doctor Who
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Categories: Other
Additional Tags: Sequel to Vrs
read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2vFh1bJ
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| Day 3/100 of productivity | Hi.. The study I've done today was so little.. i guess i took it as a real "chill day" ;-; Well, not bad to relax a little and feel the guilt of not working.. I watched an episode of a korean series called Mad Dog, and i loved it! It reminded me of Lookout ;////; (the Ending ost is epic..) My productivity and inspiration both striked at 6pm, i worked on both Politics, pLMT and a little Math.. prepared also for tomorrows lectures~ I think I'll be going to the library tomorrow (if i still had energy) after the last lecture, and work on VWL .. (I keep saying this..) and print some papers to work on them during the weekend~ Let's not get stressed now, shall we? This is just week 2 of the Academic year bzw. my new semester...ヾ(*´∀`*)ノ hahaha~ P.s: ;-; My song of the day: what i want - NiiHWA (Korean)
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trick or treat :)
you get a full size candy bar of a treat from my current WIP, the next installment of the VWL series, this time Vash POV and dealing with some larger worldbuilding fallout rather than just one smut scene! It's meant to be the Vash companion to Wolfwood's "don't stop if I fall and don't look back." Vash has to visit his sisters and actually face what happened to Knives.
having arrived in Octovern, he's on his way to visit the facility where his surviving sisters are housed:
"The fountain in the green space is splashing quietly in the empty city center. Vash hasn't seen Octovern since - But it's bigger now than even July ever was, all built up and modernized and filled to the brim with sleek Earth tech. And, because of the evacuation, it's dead silent. Empty of inhabitants. Far above, a distant hawk cry echoes. The fountain burbles, water broken into many rivulets by a large monolith of red rock. It looks like a natural piece of bedrock.
The fountain's base is made up of a hexagon of large panels of dull gray metal, angled slightly upwards. When Vash is close enough, he sees that they're segments of hull from some old Seeds ships, micro-abrasions from space debris still intact. And they're covered in writing.
Uverna, 214. Piss Creek, 45. Stony Gap, 1,304. Concord, 892. Carcasses, 501. Juneora Rock, 4,346. Monterusso, 28. Milltown, 118.
Towns and their populations, all wiped out during the Ark's passage. Vash's gaze lingers as he rounds the six panels; four are covered with nothing but place names. He knows not every single person from every town died, but enough did. Enough.
One panel, facing away from the Plant building, bears an etched portrait of a female face with short hair framing her cheeks. Beneath, it says Domina, Beloved, and an age younger than Vash but older than any human. Independent. Vash knows her, vaguely, from the entanglement of thoughts and memories that had been exploding through him during that very last encounter. He knows her via the perspective of her death as seen by her killer: her contact with extra-orbital threads of power that had cracked into her safe shell, wriggled into her skin, stabbed fine blades into all of her flesh, slipped through her meat in a hot, greedy butchery of her young body, warped her, claimed her, sprouted her, bloomed her flesh into feathers -
Vash walks away from her portrait, her eager smile, her Beloved.
Opposite her, on the side of the fountain facing the Plant building, is the epitaph. "In memory of all that was lost," it begins, and goes on for a short but saccharine paragraph about grieving together and building back stronger through new alliances. At the bottom is a simplified version of a star map, a few dots and lines connecting Earth to her lost children.
Vash thinks it's very much the kind of monument that Earthers would build.
He moves his eyes from the text to the bedrock centerpiece, with its clear water flowing endlessly over a piece of stone that will never absorb it. That's all that really needs to be said about this planet, isn't it?"
#sf writes#vwl series#trigun maximum fanfic#post canon au#writer ask game#trick or treat#happy spooky eve! have some sadness!#i dont know why vash works better for me in present tense but he does
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@ anyone who’s read my vashliviowolfwood fics, question: are there any particular prompts or requests you have for that AU? i really want to keep noodling around in it but i’m struggling with specific scenarios. particularly if you have anything you want to see razlo involved in, like any conversations, decisions, confrontations, particular character interactions, etc. literally anything from talking about trauma to arguing with livio about cutting their hair, idk.
#sf writes#VWL OT3 fic series#i dont really want to put this in the main character tags since it's a wee niche au fic#so I'll just do the tumblr equivalent of talking barely above a whisper lol
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good news/bad news, the good news is the next installment will definitely be Wolfwood’s perspective, the bad news is the next installment will definitely be Wolfwood’s perspective
@ anyone who’s read my vashliviowolfwood fics, question: are there any particular prompts or requests you have for that AU? i really want to keep noodling around in it but i’m struggling with specific scenarios. particularly if you have anything you want to see razlo involved in, like any conversations, decisions, confrontations, particular character interactions, etc. literally anything from talking about trauma to arguing with livio about cutting their hair, idk.
#vwl ot3 fic series#prepare to take psychic damage#I’ve entered my Causing Harm to Readers on Purpose phase#pretty sure the title will be from hang ‘em high#don’t stop if I fall and don’t look back
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