plantfell

[plantfell]

"Are you calling me creepy looking?" Knives asks with mock offense, but it's clear with how quickly he moves on to the subject of presents, that he's not actually that bothered.

As Knives considers the gifts, he shifts to rest one leg over the other and clasp his hands in his lap. For a moment, his expression is as unreadable as ever. To anyone else, they might have been mostly useless items, with maybe the exception of the metronome. To Knives, it was complicated. Bittersweet. Still, a very light smile tugs at the corner of his lips when he remembers the intent behind them.

"One box was a wind-up metronome," Knives explains, "And the other was a party popper and a pair of gag glasses from our first birthday party. I don't have much use for them, but they were good gifts. Thank you."

Vash's counterpart doesn't so much as tense when Knives touches him, as if the move to safely reposition him had been rehearsed. So unthinking of self-preservation, much less his own body, he's also not sitting properly on the couch; it's a laid-out pose that effectively uses the real estate of the furniture.

"Hmm. They didn't have any pictures of examples of 'em, so I'm really just hopin' they're not creepy-lookin', if anything." Eyes glance away and upward in imagining a little dolleyed Knives, sitting up in the corner of a room by his own volition, unblinking…

"… Wwgh." Vash shudders and shakes his head, suddenly feeling motivated to sit properly in the presence of the other Plant. Once upright, he pushes up his glasses and excitedly glances around, looking for something. "Oh, um, what'd my gifts turn out to be, anyway? It was enchanted, or somethin', I forget if I told you I wasn't able to open 'em somehow. Stars thing, I guess."

He can't exactly tell if the presents were well-received by Knives, or if they were totally awful, and that Knives was dryly declaring his revenge. Asking like this is a roundabout way of gauging it.

#blankticket #THR08: blankticket

[plantfell]

As Knives glances between the paper bag and his brother's face, there isn't a single iota of his being that takes Vash at his word. Whether that distrust is justified or not, remains to be seen. As awkward as the other plant is, it's entirely possible that he could be telling the truth and somehow still make it sound like he's hiding something.

"There's no need. You're always welcome to stop by whenever you like, with or without notice. You only risk my absence, but I won't pretend like I have a vibrant social life. I'm usually home," Knives reassures as he leads the way to the kitchen.

"How are things with Wolfwood?" He asks, hoping an attempt at pleasant conversation might help relax Vash a little.

★ --;; "I brought food!" is what immediately tumbles out of Vash's mouth rather than any sort of proper greeting-- because of course it does-- paper bag held up by the handles as if to be both in display and a weird sort of peace offering, regardless of whether or not it's needed to be so. It's enough for even him to cringe a bit inwardly, a struggle to keep it off his face.

In comparison, this hasn't been anywhere near the longest amount of time between visits to the ship. This one just happens to be the most peaceful of the bunch by much more than a few iles. But if anything, that just leaves a thicker film of guilt in Vash's throat-- the fact that he's gone and not done as he'd promised yet again, that the gap was even as wide as it is even though there's no reason for it, a nagging weight in the back of his mind for a while now.

"Um-- I mean-- yeah, everything's fine," he tries to correct as he finally steps inside, voice a bit airier than if it were entirely natural. "I just-- uh. Wanted to come over. Sorry I didn't really send any notice."

#amoirsetpacis #THR09: amoirsetpacis #shows up once every 3 weeks to post like a cryptid

[plantfell]

Manners and grace are two things Knives has come to not expect from either Vash, at this point. The pair is simply too goofy to exist in any "reasonable" way. The only thing he can do is take it in stride, and do his best to not encourage their behaviour, lest he find himself roped into their antics more than he already does.

As Vash gets dangerously close to running into a couch, Knives gently, but firmly, grabs him by the shoulders to guide him into it. When he's satisfied the younger plant isn't at any immediate risk of hurting himself or the furniture, Knives takes a seat across from him.

"I haven't made a habit of it, no," Knives answers, idly resting his elbow against the arm of his chair and his cheek against his knuckles, "I rarely find myself in the market for pointless knick-knacks."

Despite his incessant need to act cold and detached, there's a look in his eyes that makes it clear he's interested in the proposal. If this "Hug n' Tell doll" really can bridge the gap, it's an appealing proposition. Plus, Knives is a filthy liar who does appreciate knick-knacks, provided they come from a friend or loved one.

"That said," Knives continues, "I do believe I owe you after the gifts you gave me. If you would like to make an exchange, I see no harm in arranging something." A pause. "I'm sure a doll in my likeness would be something anyone would be honoured to own." It's a joke. Probably.

@plantfell

"Hi, neighbor! So I was thinkin'… Well, have you caught any wind of that new stock to the Marketplace, lately?" Coat in the wash, the younger Typhoon's slipped in over the Ark's entrance threshold like an oil-slick, excitement overriding his manners.

Vash turns around to face Knives while walking backward, steps inevitably heading toward some piece of furniture he hasn't accounted for. Animated, his hands motion as he talks.

"There's all sortsa stuff for a limited time, but—I especially'd love to have us both get those Hug n'Tell Dolls, and do a swap! That way, we're accounting for the no-telepathy thing between us.

"And I'm pretty sure mine'd be cute."

#blankticket #THR08: blankticket #hope this is okay! thank you for the starter

[plantfell]

Send 💭 + a topic and my muse will tell you what they think about it.

#meme friday

[plantfell]

I plan on catching up on posts this weekend now that I'm free from playing Rebirth! Mayhaps I'll reblog some memes tomorrow.

#ooc #i may have apped a new character hehe #he's just a little guy. a little kitty cat. a fortune teller even. you can trust him.

[plantfell]

[ text ] (IMG: Vash's right hand and Wolfwood's left hand side by side, both with a ring on their ring fingers.) [ text ] Hey stupid we're gonna be in laws

As is increasingly often the case with Wolfwood, Knives finds himself torn between hating and appreciating the man when he processes the picture and message. He cycles through typing responses of various levels of hostility before settling on:

[txt] Congratulations. [txt] If you mess this up, I WILL kill you. ❤️

#punisheye #ask #sorry this took me like a month to get to #knives: i'll add a little heart emoji to make it more like friendly ribbing but also i will kill wolfwood

[plantfell]

Visitors this far out are rare, if not non-existent. At this point, it's also about a 50/50 chance whether or not said visitors are friends or foes. Knowing nothing else about the source of the knocking, Knives approaches the door with a healthy amount of skepticism. His brother doesn't cross his mind as a possibility, figuring that he would reach out in some way if he were to come.

When he opens the door, the neutral hostility on his face is quick to shift to surprise (and a little relief) at the sight of the familiar figure. "Vash?" He asks, his mind already sifting through a barrage of reasons why the other plant would arrive unannounced like this. "Come in," He continues, stepping out of the way to let Vash in, "Is everything alright?"

★ --;; He... probably should have said something before showing up out here. A text, a phone call, a blip down their shared connection, anything. But instead, here Vash stands, outside a door much larger that needed for just a singular person. The last time he'd been here, he'd been too much of a coward to step foot back inside the place. Before then, he'd been scared and desperate and not thinking entirely clearly.

So instead, Vash takes a deep breath to steady his nerves, frayed no matter how much he's tried to talk himself down from it, and wraps his metal knuckles against the metal plating of the ship wedged into the sand. Maybe it'll be louder than his organic one. Still, it feels a bit silly.

@plantfell jumpscare. hi

#amoirsetpacis #THR09: amoirsetpacis

[plantfell]

Happy one year Isola anniversary to this stinky man.

#ooc #Nothing planned for it #But I just realized it was today

[plantfell]

"Something... silly is afoot."

#dash commentary

[plantfell]

When Wolfwood says he hasn't bought a ring yet, there's a look of surprise on Knives' face that he's quick to suppress into his usual flat affect. It felt safe to assume that this whole meeting was more a formality than anything else. One final I to dot or T to cross before Wolfwood pops the question. Now Knives can only assume that this was one of the first, if not the first things the other man thought to do.

It's that moment that Knives really starts to understand what his brother sees in the human. Maybe not fully, maybe only a single silver of understanding, but it's something. For any faults Wolfwood might have, he's genuine and straight forward, and it's clear he wants to get things right.

That genuine energy seems to be infectious, because the next words out of Knives' mouth aren't rude or snide, but genuine, too. Actual real advice, and clear support.

"I wouldn't be surprised if Vash is the sort to not need marriage or a ceremony or even a ring, but I would be surprised if he were to say no to a proposal from you," Knives shifts, and pulls his arms tight to his chest. He feels awkward, and can't maintain anything resembling eye contact, but he persists, "We've spoken a little about you, and your relationship. Not just as it is, but in relation to…" Knives gestures vaguely with one hand, "feelings."

"Vash cares about you in a way I've never seen him care about something or someone. If marriage is something you want, something that will make you happy, I can't imagine him not being on board whether it's something he's thought about or not. I also wouldn't be surprised if it's something he has thought about, but I'll refrain from making any definite assumptions about what my brother wants. I've certainly tried dictating his life enough for several lifetimes…" Knives clears his throat awkwardly, realizing he's started rambling.

"My point being easily summarized as," He looks back at Wolfwood now, "Be sure, but don't overthink it. Vash loves you, and he loves being with you."

Okay. No yelling. No threats. Knives doesn't seem... mad, but he also doesn't seem thrilled either. Which Wolfwood will count as a win, because anything's better than a furious brother with a history of attempted genocide trying to ruin his engagement and marriage. If there is an engagement and marriage to ruin.

It should be obvious Vash will say yes. But also, what if he doesn't? Despite the idyllic life they lead here nothing about their relationship will ever be truly conventional. Maybe Vash will find no point in marriage, happy to just be with Wolfwood as they are, which is also fine. But also—

"Don't know 'bout a ceremony," he mumbles, lifting his head up from the table. Of course he would like one, he has to admit. Just the people they know. Nothing huge. Private and peaceful. "Depends on what he'd want."

And the ring... well, he's been looking. Kind of agonizing over it in his free time. There was one he'd been eyeing in this jewelry shop in one of the upper levels of Fibonacci, but it was definitely expensive. Nothing garish and obnoxious, but it had this gemstone that was the same color as Vash's eyes, embedded into a silver, glittering band.

"I haven't bought a ring yet," Wolfwood replies. "There's one I'm thinkin' I'll get... but I, uh. Well. Before I buy it, I just gotta figure out how he actually feels 'bout marriage. Without him realizin' I'm gonna propose."

#THR01: punisheye #punisheye #drops this in your feed like a cat bringing home a live snake after being missing for a week #no i will not explain or apologize for that analogy

[plantfell]

Even though he knows that the young man is not a plant. It's hard not to feel something about the way the tendrils move and the feeling of it brushing against him. Not a plant, but something alive and beyond human. Knives can tell that much. It's almost tempting to try reaching out to it like he can with his sisters, but he at least has the presence of mind to know that has more chances of going horribly wrong than it does being worthwhile.

"Do you have a history of blacking out in strange places, or is this a new development?" Knives asks, with all of the bedside manner of a rock. It's clear he's annoyed, despite the situation being entirely avoidable by accepting the young man's request for him to leave.

"Mm… Let me clarify, actually. Did you experience blackouts prior to arriving in this city?"

Well. It's not like he's in any condition to struggle against someone so insistent. Allen can't help but resign himself to this situation. At least the man isn't trying to kill him or something. Small mercies. The bar is absolutely on the ground. It probably always has been, now that he thinks about it. He doesn't want to think about it.

The feathery tendrils sprouting from his arm seem to almost reach towards Knives instead of the heavens, when he gets closer. They brush against him, and for a brief moment there's a flicker of -- something, from it. The suggestion of a separate being, of the arm's own sentience; it expresses the impression of something equal parts desperation, protectiveness, confusion, and fear.

"Ugh," is all Allen can say at first. The taste of black blood still heavy on his tongue. He truly doesn't have the strength to protest much further. He's a bit heavier than his slight frame would suggest, though; all wiry, compact muscle and the mass of whatever his left arm actually is. He can't bring himself to quite look at the man directly, as he goes to pick him up. It takes him a beat to process he's being asked another question.

"I... don't know. I just... woke up here?"

#THR01: deadmandraw #deadmandraw #we will simply pass this thread between ourselves every few months until the end of time

[plantfell]

#files #receipts

[plantfell]

There are two facts that are almost (if not, definitely) unanimously agreed upon: Knives needs to socialize more, and he needs more hobbies. Whether he wants to admit it or not, something about the season has made the emptiness of the Ark more obvious than ever. And, like it or not, both socializing and hobbies are the perfect ways to stave off loneliness.

Which makes the arrival of WinterFes perfect timing. It provides plenty of activities for him to choose some, and some of them even come with mandatory socializing. One might even argue there's too many options, but eventually Knives manages to settle on knitting classes hosted by Spirale University. He can tell people he socialized by doing the classes, and come out of it with a hobby he never has to interact with another living soul to do. It's the perfect combination.

When he arrives at the classroom, he's dressed in all white and for the chillier weather, though his outer coat is quick to be taken off and hung up before he settles down to learn. The introduction is relatively basic, and soon enough he and the others are mostly left to their own devices, as the teacher wanders around to focus on those slower to catch on.

Knives himself is fairly quick on the uptake, so he's forced to figure out the socializing aspect mostly on his own. It would probably be easier if he didn't carry with him a generally off-putting aura that he's not sure how to turn it off or tone it down.

@schleckermaul

#schleckermaul #THR01: schleckermaul #winterfes tag

[plantfell]

Giant Challenge Finale

CW: familial death, child death, child experimentation, and grief

Once things are finished at Cafe December, Knives makes his way back to the Ark. In his pocket, the splinters of wood feel like lead weights. It was easy, as he was doing his deeds, to put them and the consequence of their joining to the back of his mind. He wasn’t completing the task to reach the end, but to get the Star’s game over with as quickly as possible. Now, there’s no more avoiding it. The game is over and a choice must be made: burn the figure, or keep it. Erase Tesla from his memories, or bring her into this world.

The choice is harder than Knives would like to admit. It wouldn’t be the first time the memory was taken from him in this world, and he still remembers what it was like when his memories were fragmented. While he hadn’t thought much of it in the time since, it’s hard to deny that it was nice to live without that weight in his heart. Yet, so much of who he is, is wrapped up in his memories of Tesla. Knives can at least admit that ridding himself of her memory would make it impossible to truly improve himself. To do so would mean confronting the fear that informs so many of his actions, and he can’t do that if he doesn’t remember where that fear started.

It may be a difficult choice, but the answer is obvious.

Picking where to piece the figure together is more of a process than it needs to be, and Knives ultimately settles on the Ark being the least jarring place Tesla could appear. He’s not sure what to expect or what state she might be in or even if she’ll even appear with him. A cruel twist like that doesn’t feel out of the realm of possibility, like some kind of monkey’s paw wish.

Even after he arrives home and finds a nice spot beneath the apple tree at the center of the bio-dome, it takes some time for Knives to start. Then, piece by piece, he finally puts it together. As the final piece finds it’s place and the figurine takes shape, he blinks. When his eyes focus again, he becomes aware of a little girl standing before him and his heart skips a beat.

It’s her.

Tesla. As she should be. Not in pieces suspended in tubes like a discarded specimen. Living, breathing, and, if her expression is any indication, confused. Despite her confusion, there’s still an element of curiosity and wonder to her gaze as she looks around. She doesn’t know where she is or why, but there is something about the man before her. Something familiar in a way she can’t explain. Not until she reaches out and their minds connect.

You’re like me, Tesla murmurs into his mind with oh so wide eyes.

All at once, any progress Knives might have made since his arrival dissolves. Her mind touches his and he’s reminded of all the reasons he started his crusade. Every reason he has to despise the human race. He falls to his knees and tightly wraps his arms around Tesla; one hand tightly gripping the back of her head while the other arm protectively wraps around her shoulders. Anger and bile form a knot in his throat as he struggles to form words or thoughts. Now more than ever it’s painfully clear that Tesla was just a child. She was innocent. The fact that humans were able to look at such a precious being and subject her to inhumane experiments is unfathomable. To think that he was actually starting to—

“Stop—“ Tesla mumbles uncomfortably, “You’re hurting me.”

Suddenly, the world comes rushing back in, and Knives becomes acutely aware of small hands pressing against his chest. He hadn’t realized how tightly he’d been holding Tesla and quickly releases her.

“Sorry, I—“ Knives hesitates, and guiltily looks away. He’s uncomfortably reminded of the first test he experienced. When mist engulfed the city and he found himself in the company of Vash’s younger self. If you asked him moments ago, he might have said he’d grown since that disastrous encounter, but now it couldn’t be clearer how little he had. Everything stems from Tesla and the ball of hate and pain he’s been unwilling to let go of. The one that reminded Knives that everything was for her sake. Just as it had once told him that everything after the Fall was for Vash’s sake.

Knives was the snake in the Garden of Eden and he just couldn’t stop eating his tail.

“Tesla…” He tries to keep his tone soft, but there’s an edge to it he can’t quite shake. He tries forcing a smile, too, but it’s debatable how helpful that is as he reaches out with shaking hands to gently hold her shoulders. All the while, he’s trying to ignore the fear that’s replaced the wonder in her eyes, and the way she flinches away from his touch. “Let’s start over… My name is Knives, and I’m… kind of like your younger brother. You have another brother named Vash, too. He’s… probably the kindest man to ever live, despite having every right to curse the world. I wish you could meet him, but…”

There’s a short pause as Knives takes in a shaky breath. He could take her to see Vash. Both of them. It’s fairly clear that this is meant to be some kind of reward where he can make up for lost time, but the lack of permanence makes it a little cruel, too. How can he really be expected to make up for so much lost time? Is it even his right to? Even now, as Knives settles on how to move forward, he’s not sure what would be more selfish: denying Tesla the chance to live, short as her time may be or denying her peace by forcing her to live to fulfill some need he thinks he deserves to fill.

“I want you to know something important. For what little good it does you now: you are loved. Your life was short, but it had an impact. One bigger than you could ever imagine. Those who love you keep you alive in their memories, and, so long as they live, a little part of you lives on within them.”

Knives shakily leans forward and presses their foreheads together. There isn’t much good he has to give, but still he digs within himself for the smoldering embers of love he’s been carefully cultivating and shares them with Tesla. It’s a weak flame, yet more warmth than she’s likely ever felt.

Thank you for being born, Tesla. Your life had meaning, and it’s loss was grieved. May you find peace in whatever lay beyond this life.

In return, Tesla wraps her arms around as much of Knives as they can reach and she hugs him tight until her form starts to fade. Soon Knives is left kneeling alone beneath the apple tree with only the vague impression of where she used to be. Grief weighs heavily in his chest as he almost immediately regrets letting her go, but there’s also a lighter feeling mixed in between. One made more prominent as he curls in on himself and allows himself the space to really grieve. Tears, snot, and ugly sobs… He lets himself feel it all.

As the chains of the past finally start to loosen, maybe soon Knives will be able to fully embrace the future and all it may hold.

#giant challenge #the evil is defeated.gif #this took forever to do and it ran into a few issues that changed it from what i originally planned but #i think i'm overall happy with it #thanks to everyone who came along #familial death cw #child death cw #child experimentation cw #grief cw

[plantfell]

Going through a rough patch, because of IRL things, so I've dropped all of my characters except Knives. Once I've caught up on all of my posts I'll probably do a starter or plotting call, but feel free to hmu if you have any ideas.

#ooc #the depressi is pretty rancid rn

[plantfell]

"Oh, don't be a baby," Knives chides. It's more teasing really, but anything that comes out of Knives' mouth is always a little bit rude to some degree. "It will be a cold day in hell before any disagreement the two of you have ends in bloodshed. Come on, lets get this over with." He makes sure to tidy up the kitchen just enough that nothing will catch fire if they're gone for a few minutes, then leads the way to the front door.

When Knives opens the door to see that Vash is, for some reason, wearing Little Vash's coat, he has a split second to decide whether or not he wants to try being funny for once. "Oh! What do we have here?" He asks in mock surprise. "To what do I owe the pleasure of a visit from my neighbor?"

"Vash," Knives looks back at the younger counterpart, "Your younger counterpart has come to visit."

★ --;; The sound of the younger Punisher hollering after him isn't entirely drowned out by the sand whipping up behind Vash; the motor isn't loud enough on this thing-- not in comparison to an actual motorcycle, anyway-- and the promise of making good on Vash's debt is something he knows in his gut he'll have to deal with sooner later than later. Probably ( definitely ) a poor choice in the long run, but that's something to worry about later.

He hopes, hopes, that the brat hasn't wandered off from the Ark. That if he continues out towards where he can sense his brother, his coat will be waiting for him as well. He tries very much not to think about the last time he had been aboard the faux crash site, nor the time before that, but as its silhouette transitions from a vague shape into well-remembered geometry, it becomes harder and harder to do so. By the time he gets all the way up to the base of it, Vash's heart pounding in his chest isn't born entirely out of irritation.

Instead, he cups his hands around his mouth and calls, with a surprisingly even voice,

"Get out here, shrimp! I've got somethin' a yours too!"

@blankticket

#amoirsetpacis #blankticket #THR08: amoirsetpacis #THR08: blankticket #i finally.... wrote

[plantfell]

Wolfwood's anxiety and uncertainty is infectious. The more he fidgets and tries to find the right words, the more the pressure in Knives' chest tightens. He's very nearly about to just tell the man to spit it out when he finally manages to say those six little words.

I'm goin' to propose to Vash.

Knives stares at the back of Wolfwood's head, not a single one of the emotions he's feeling making it into his expression. But, not because he's upset. That's the part that really confuses Knives. He expects to be angry. Hell, he has little doubt that's what Wolfwood (or anyone else) expects from him. There's a protective urge there, of course. Marriage is a big commitment, no matter who it's with. It creates a whole new set of ways for his brother to be hurt and Knives is never a fan of that, but he's not angry.

That's not to say he's happy about it either, but there's been so few things he's been genuinely happy about in the last century. That's less a comment on how he's feeling about this revelation, and more a reflection of his general emotional constipation.

Then, Knives lets himself think about it. Really stew on the information. It's not hard to guess what Vash's reaction will be. An emphatic yes with equal parts laughter and tears. A nauseating amount of hugging and kissing. Knives doesn't dwell on that part for very long, but he doesn't have to. Regardless of whatever emotions he might be feeling about it all, Knives is certain of one thing: Wolfwood will make Vash happy.

"Well…" Knives says, his tone careful and controlled, "I suppose, that means I should read up on a best man's duties." A pause. "If you are planning on holding a ceremony, that is. Have you picked out a ring?"

There's no gentle way to put this and, frankly, Wolfwood isn't the kind of guy to put things gently in the first place. Knives looks a little nauseated, though. Or constipated. Or both. He's a little concerned the guy might actually blow up if he's not careful with how he says this.

Wolfwood opens his mouth, closes it again, scowls, swallows. He sucks the end of the candy cane down into a sharp point and pulls it out of his mouth again. He's been thinking about it for weeks, trying to figure out how to prod Vash about his thoughts without actually clueing him in on what's going on. He even went and used his prosthetic for a sizing reference when Vash was in the shower...

When he opens his mouth to finally give his debatably carefully-worded explanation, what comes out is, "I'm goin' to propose to Vash."

Nice.

Wolfwood groans and drops his head to the table.

#punisheye #thread tbt #knives is trying so hard to be a good brother