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theanoninyourinbox · 3 months

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Graystripe's Heart (or Hope's Beginning)

The (Short) Return Of Bloodclan and Redemption of ???

Shortly after the rescue of Darkkit, Rogues begin being spotted on the outskirts of the Clans. Windclan claims someone is stealing prey, Riverclan smells intruders on the borders, and worst of all, Shadowclan has detected Bloodclan scent on the Thunderpath. So Longstar sends Graystripe (still mourning his mother) and Sandstorm to find out the truth, with Fireheart demanding to come along – the Stars say it’s important!

So the three cats set off to Fireheart’s old Twoleg Den, meeting Smudge and his new mate Hattie. The two Kittypets tell the Can cats about the return of Bloodclan under a cat named Fury – but also of a pair of cats making a peaceful group, and trying to dismantle Bloodclan as well. The new unnamed Clowder’s leaders are unknown, save that they’re a scarred tom and a brown molly.

The Kittypets and Clan cats are interrupted by Gremlin and Scraps, siblings from the Unnamed Clowder, warning that Bloodclan Recruiters are chasing the pair of them. The Clan Cats hide under the edge of the Twoleg den with Gremlin, and a cat named Snake attempts to attack Smudge and Hattie for protecting Scraps. Hattie slaps the crap out of Snake, but a few more Bloodclan cats appear, and Scraps tries to surrender himself to save the Kittypets (and his hidden sister). But a twisted, gravely snarl sends the Bloodclanners running, and a heavily scarred tom approaches a relieved Scraps.

A highly familiar black striped gray tabby, with a horrid scar on his throat.

--DARKSTRIPE?!?!?--

Graystripe bolts from under the Twoleg den, with Sandstorm and Fireheart nearly riding his frazzled tail. The former Clan cat goes bushy with startlement as they approach, but Fireheart keeps Graystripe and Sandstorm from tearing him apart. Scraps, very confused, identifies Darkstripe as the Unnamed Clowder’s tom leader, and Gremlin chirps that he ran off her abusive former mate! Full of conflicting emotions, Graystripe demands an explanation, and Darkstripe wheezes out, with tears in his eyes…how sorry he is. But he won’t fight them, he probably deserves what’s coming – and Fireheart cuts him off. Let’s talk somewhere else, somewhere safer. Darkstripe nods, and after Fireheart extracts a promise from Sandstorm to not just kill her former Clanmate the second his back is turned, the scarred tomcat leads the Clan Cats and the siblings into the Twoleg Territory.

After some Very Tense Travel, the group comes to an abandoned Twoleg den, the walls covered in strange Twoleg berrypaint art. Darkstripe leads them to a small opening, guarded by a pair of scraggly but friendly cats. They greet Darkstripe and the siblings with unashamed friendliness, and the Clan cats are surprised to find themselves greeted with similar cheer. After introductions are made, Hazard and Snaggle let everyone into the Den.

Inside is a well set-up camp, with obvious dens for nursing parents and kits, elders being cared for by a few younger cats, and a prey pile, with freshkill and a cat dismantling a large bird. Darkstripe is greeted warmly, and the Clan Cats are experiencing a great deal of emotions. Sandstorm is still rightfully angry – Darkstripe tried to kill Sorrelkit! Fireheart is wary but hopeful – maybe Darkstripe has changed? These cats seem to think highly of him! And Graystripe?

Graystripe wonders who Darkstripe really is. Because the cat he sees is NOTHING like the older brother he thought had died at his claws. The older brother he loved still, somewhere deep inside.

A brown colorpoint molly greets Darkstripe, and introduces herself as Sasha. The pair sit the Clan cats down in a private alcove and explain what’s happened. Darkstripe was groomed by Tigerclaw (Darkstripe and Sasha both refusing to add the Star even sarcastically to his name) and was rescued from the battlefield by an injured Sasha, who was looking for Tigerclaw as well. She had been his secret mate (to which Sandstorm shudders at) and had realized how horrible a cat Tigerclaw truly was only after her injury. The two of them had healed from their respective injuries – Sasha only stating it was Tigerclaw’s fault – and had tried to go on together. But there were so many cats that needed help, and with Darkstripe’s Clan knowledge and Sasha’s kind nature, they had formed a Clowder. Somewhere that they could atone for their sins and make a better future for street cats. Sandstorm demands to know if that should keep her claws out of Darkstripe’s hide, and Fireheart has to jump on her to stop it, but Graystripe pushes forward.

You’re sorry. Yes, Darkstripe tearily mewls.

You’re sorry for Sorrel. Yes, he states clearly.

For Bramble and Tawny. Yes, he sighs.

For Stonefur, for Fireheart. Yes! Darkstripe sputters.

For mother? YES! He yowls!

For ME?!

YES!!! Darkstripe screams, raspy and broken.

And Graystripe LUNGES.

He catches Darkstripe in a tight embrace and sobs.

Mother will be so proud of you in Starclan. I’m so proud of you.

Sandstorm sputters from under the (teeny tiny itty bitty) weight of Fireheart as the brothers weep into each other’s fur, one more wound of Tigerclaw’ wickedness beginning to heal.

Sasha asks Fireheart and Sandstorm for advice off to the side, as she’s no Healer or Brawler, but some cats have been interested, and would they mind giving advice while they’re here? Sandstorm startling agrees, with Fireheart patting her on the shoulder cheerily. The pair head off with Sasha, leaving the brothers some privacy.

By the time Graystripe and Darkstripe have pulled themselves together, it’s dusk, and Sandstorm and Fireheart have been busy. Fireheart has a group of cats huddled around a Queen and her kits and Gremlin, listing the signs of kit diseases, and Sandstorm is running a group training session, with Scraps actually knocking down a cat larger than him to wild and enthusiastic cheering. Graystripe joins a group of cats fixing up some nests, lending a paw and some advice, and Darkstripe leans on Sasha, drained but finally whole in some small way. Fireheart calls the Clowder a hope for the future and a good place to rest, and Gremlin loudly proclaims they should be the Hope Clowder! The cry is taken up, and the Unnamed Clowder becomes the Hope’s Rest Clowder (Hope Clowder for short).

The Clan Trio stays the night, and the next morning are awoken by Snaggle hollering that Bloodclan is on the move. Everyone wakes quickly, and the Clowder Cats barricade the entrance, leaving only a peephole. A group of Bloodclan cats are headed straight for Thunderclan!

Sandstorm demands that the Clan Cats leave to warn the Clans, but startlingly some Hope Clowder Cats ask Darkstripe and Sasha if they can help take down Bloodclan there as well – they’re weaker spread out in two places, and there are cats that need rescuing from Bloodclan’s clutches! Fireheart tells Graystripe and Sandstorm to go warn the Clans, and asks if he can help the Clowder rescue the prisoners. Darkstripe agrees, and Graystripe charges his brother with protecting the cat he once tried to kill.

Sandstorm and Graystripe escort a small group of Hope Clowder Cats to the border of Thunderclan, and Graystripe rushes ahead to warn Longstar ahead of the approaching Bloodclan cats. Graystripe yowls out his warning to the Camp Guards, who repeat the warning as cats begin scrambling to battle and defense positions. Longstar asks where Sandstorm and Fireheart are, my guy they BETTER be fine, and Graystripe assures him they are, just as the first Bloodclan cat leaps over the camp wall.

Chaos ensues, but suddenly Sandstorm and her volunteers charge the Bloodclanners from behind, scattering the Bloodclan Rogues. Fury is downed by a furious (HA) Flamewish, who bodily throws the molly over the camp wall, with her living followers rushing away. Sandstorm keeps the Thunderclanners from attacking the Hope Clowder cats, and they view the Clan with awe and curiosity. Graystripe and Sandstorm tell Longstar and Flamewish what’s going on, with the Hope Clowder cats chiming in. Flamewish is Very Concerned about Darkstripe, but Hazard, who came with the Hope Battle Patrol, tells her the story of how Darkstripe saved her from an attacking Bloodclan patrol, and nursed her back to health. This placates Flamewish, but she still worries about her brother…

Meanwhile--

The rescue Patrol comes to the nearly unguarded Bloodclan encampment, a seemingly abandoned Carrionplace with thin woven silvery reeds forming a strong wall. Scraps leads the rescuers to a hole in the Carrionplace wall, and everyone slides through with relative ease, save one cat losing some long fur. They approach a small, enclosed area, with a Twoleg-made Dog Den and several Bloodclan cats guarding the area. Darkstripe leads half of the patrol to attack the guards, while Sasha and Fireheart lead the other half to rescue the prisoners.

It goes relatively smoothly, with the only hiccup being a guard going for the smaller Fireheart. The guard later regrets this decision, leaving with less ear and more scarred skin that he started with. The rescue patrol leads the injured cats back to Hope’s Rest, and after treating them, Fireheart finds himself alone with Sasha. And finds he has to ask her something. He’s noticed something important and…

What happened to your kits?

Sasha buckles, and begs Fireheart to not tell a soul – only Darkstripe knows about them. She had three kits by Tigerclaw, and after losing one of them, and leaving the others somewhere safe, she went to find – and perhaps wound – the cat who hurt her so. Only to find Tigerclaw dead, and another cat near death, with her pain in his eyes. Fireheart swears to never tell anyone, save under pain of death. She sighs, and wonders where her little Tadpole went after his death, and Fireheart tells her of the Afterlives that Starclan knows of. She weeps then, in relief – he’ll be waiting for her.

After making sure all the patients are stable, Snaggle escorts Fireheart to Thunderclan, and after a quick reunion, the Hope’s Rest Clowder cats head home, laden with herbs and cuttings and instructions and a new ally. Bloodclan is scattered, nevermore to gather the same power again, and all is quiet for a time.

(And in Riverclan, a brown and white tom sleeps peacefully next to a golden brown molly, safe and sound)

(And elsewhere, a black and grey tom rests safely)

(ALIVE)

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scoliosisgoblin · 5 months

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have some doodles I forgot to post ages ago

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loopydangerfrog · 3 months

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Find out why Curses by The Crane Wives has been stuck in my head for weeks now!

Chapters 5 & 6 for the podfic of Wave Hello to the Void by @mxmollusca, @zacharybosch, and @eefaevie are now available for you to listen to!

Podfic: http://archiveofourown.org/works/52928560/

Fic: http://archiveofourown.org/works/51218191/

#our flag means death #podfic #ofmd #our flag means fanfic #wave hello to the void #whttv #ok but seriously curses goes so fucking hard #i am very late to the crane wives gang but am happy to be here #mourning my spotify wrapped already but whats a pal to do?!

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theviridianbunny · 4 months

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WIP WEDNESDAY - 03/01/24 - repost bc tumblr borked my post for some reason

It’s the first wip Wednesday of 2024 - ! I was planning on keeping these little doodles as surprise gifts - but I couldn’t wait to show you all (even if they’re all works in progress at different stages of completion (thanks audhd)- back in April last year I made a piece of a viridian and a few other beloved friend ocs (fellow Jackie shippers ;u; ) - now at the start of 2024 I’m doing another version 🤭 - featuring friends old and new <3

Featuring @esqueofage ‘s Venia Akoni (drawing 1) , @heywoodvirgin ‘s Venus Laroche (drawing 2) , @chessalein ‘s Nori (drawing 3) and @halsin Mairwen (drawing 4) - I love you all and your beloved babes - you all bring me so much joy and comfort - thank you for blessing my timeline with your ocs and other wonderful creations

Tagging (with no pressure) : @another-corpo-rat @wanderingaldecaldo @mrdekarios @emahriel @valsilverhand @dreamskug @netripper @galvus @withoutyouimsaskia @ouroboros-hideout and you -! What have y’all been up too?

#wip wednesday #bunny makes art #oc: viridian #mairwen #venus laroche #nori #venia akoni #please tumblr don’t bork this post it’s just gals being pals and supporting each other #bunny screams into the void

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soft-girl-musings · 2 months

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i know this world is made richer by the diversity in where we come from but dear god why can't all of you just live down the street from me so i can kick your doors in sitcom-style when i want to see you

#my head hurts #the next best thing is the dms/ask box #so consider it an open door pals #shouting into the void here

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genericpuff · 8 months

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at this point with all of the IRL art markets i've done where i've made genuine connections and the fact that this tumblr is probably the most successful thing i've run almost ENTIRELY in secret, i'm ready to just tell people to put in the effort to find my art on their own damn time because i'm done with the self-promo social media bullshit ╰（‵□′）╯

#i stg like 90% of the things i've read and engaged with in the arts were things that i found completely by accident or thru pals #it's never been stuff that was shared to twitter and 'went viral' or whatever the fuck #and yeah that kinda includes webtoons tbh but i'm gonna get more into that later #just tired of the grind of posting to a void #i've had way more success doing art markets and conventions even during the ones where i've walked away with less money than i started #social media can suck my dick #self post #rant

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xray-vex · 9 months

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I wish I knew of a place to share my art (non-fandom stuff) where people would actually give a shit about it. Been trying for years on many many platforms. I'm not really even looking for compliments or praise, because altho it feels nice to get compliments, I also feel awkward about it, too. What I really fucking want is connection with other people. I want to talk to them about things they're thinking or feeling. When I make art, one of my main motivations is to just get people to talk to me, I want to hear what provokes and inspires them, what matters to them, etc. -- art-adjacent conversations. I wanna hear about what OTHERS create, too, and WHY. Want to share experiences.

My art is me screaming into the universe. And if it doesn't reach anyone, do I even fucking exist? It's ultimately the only real way I have of connecting with the world.

Why am I so unreasonably angry about this at 2:32 in the goddamn AM.

#hello Void #it's your old pal again #screaming hours #art #ART #gutteral screaming intensifies and echoes into the night

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the-scungles-of-crungles · 6 months

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How many of my mutuals are above the age of 30

#Me (zoomer) and my pals (not zoomers). It's a constant thing lmao #Tumbkr is fun because we're all wildly different people yet we post meme and yell into the void all the same

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empoleon · 11 months

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stranger things have happened

• rated m, one shot, 3088 words

• also available to read here

Wolfwood is humming something against the fabric of Vash’s shirt—his shirt, because Vash has taken to wearing his articles of clothing as of late—when Vash speaks up.

“They like that,” he says softly, tilting his head back with a smile.

Wolfwood pauses, lips ghosting a kiss near the spot where he was singing. “’S just something I heard a long time ago.”

From the orphanage, but it goes unspoken. Vash is fairly certain it’s in Wolfwood’s mother tongue as well, but he doesn’t comment on it—bringing that up now would probably embarrass him enough to stop and Vash certainly doesn’t want that.

They're in bed together at some rundown inn—traveling too much with Vash in his current state puts a bit of a strain on both of them, so it’s easier if they make frequent stops. They just need to be careful. They have to be careful.

Wolfwood would never forgive himself if something happened to—

It’s almost unnerving to feel the faintest movement touch the skin of his cheek, stopping his train of thought immediately. It’s such a brief feeling and he almost questions if it actually happened, but Vash beats him to it.

“Nick, did you—?”

“Yeah,” Wolfwood glances up at him, unable to hide the awe in his voice. “He moved.”

150 years. A century and a half, and Vash did not know about this.

To be fair, there is a lot about himself that he isn’t aware of, either purposely brushing it off as a one-off occurrence or simply refusing to acknowledge it.

Plant anatomy wasn’t something he was keen to learn about. He understood his basic, primal needs and that was that.

Humans, on the other hand…

Cross-species breeding simply never came to mind. And even if it did, Vash was far too busy enjoying the feeling of Wolfwood on top of him, holding him close, whispering things he longed to hear—knowing that each spoken word was true—he loves you, all of you, every single piece of your being, every scar and blemish branded from God himself.

(He loves you.)

“Oi, blondie—you want to tell me why you dragged me out here again?”

The dim lighting in the old saloon feels suitable at this moment, one of the lights flickering idly. It’s noisy, overcrowded and Vash almost reconsiders his priorities.

“How ’bout a drink first?”

It’s not something Wolfwood refuses, but he eyes the glass of water that is placed on their shared table. It’s murky in color, with a few specks of dirt swirling around, but it’s better than what they have seen in the previous towns.

Wolfwood grabs his own glass, filled with a smooth amber tinge. “So,” he takes a swig and licks his lips. “What’s wrong?”

Vash wants to laugh. Leave it to Wolfwood to get straight to the point.

“Nothing! Well, mostly nothing,“ Vash gives him a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “You know how it is.”

Except Wolfwood doesn’t know, with the way Vash keeps skirting around the topic at hand.

The alcohol in his system is beginning to warm him up, and if he didn’t know any better, he’d think Vash is about to say something unimaginable. It worries him.

There’s a ruckus outside the saloon that quickly enters through the double swing doors, men shouting unintelligible things—words like ‘bounty’ and ‘where is he?’ are all that Wolfwood needs to hear before he downs the rest of his drink and roughly grabs Vash by the arm.

“Hey, wait—I didn’t get to finish my drink!” Vash whines dramatically as he stumbles to his feet. One of the men arguing with another patron glances over towards them and Wolfwood curses.

“Damn it! Will you shut it?” He swivels around and pulls Vash into a corner of the saloon, trying to obscure the view of the humanoid typhoon from any onlookers. Miraculously, it works.

The commotion dies down after the barkeep threatens to drain the tap and close up for the evening. Those who initially caused the uproar either slip back out into the night or decide it’s time for a drink.

Vash really wishes he could have one right now, too. The water on the table may not taste great, but his throat has never felt so dry.

His arms find their way around Wolfwood’s waist, and he holds him there for a moment, in the corner of that saloon. The lights flicker again.

“I need to talk to you.”

“Guess he likes my voice,” Wolfwood smooths a hand against the swell of Vash’s belly.

“He?” Vash can’t hide the curiosity in his voice at the word, raising an eyebrow. “What makes you so sure?”

“Spikey, there is absolutely no way in hell you’re giving me a daughter,” Wolfwood states it so seriously that Vash starts to laugh. “I mean it. My heart won’t be able to take it.”

When he finally manages to tell Wolfwood what has been ailing him, he isn’t entirely sure what to expect, reaction wise.

Yelling or swearing? An average response, perhaps the best possible outcome, especially when it comes to the man Vash has known for so many years now. Calling him names falls under this category as well.

What he didn’t expect was the silence, or Wolfwood’s cigarette falling out of his mouth a second later.

“You’re—”

Vash nods, unable to say anything else. It’s hard to meet those dark eyes that are glued to his body.

“And it’s…” Wolfwood trails off, motioning to himself.

Another nod.

There’s a long pause before everything goes back to normal—whatever that actually is, Vash isn’t certain, but it feels like he can breathe again once Wolfwood regains his senses and finally says more than a few words.

“I thought you said we didn’t need to use condoms!” Wolfwood exclaims. “I asked you three times!”

Three separate times, in fact. Vash groans and runs a hand through his hair. “I mean, we don’t need to—we’ve never had—I didn’t think this was possible,” he settles on saying, because it’s true.

This was purely impossible, and yet somehow, after 150 years, his body finally decided it was time.

“With how often we fuck, I’m surprised this didn’t happen sooner,” Wolfwood mutters.

He’s not wrong, as embarrassing as it is to think about it.

“So…” Vash wrings his hands together, eyes flickering between Wolfwood and the cigarette that has long since been forgotten on the ground. He moves his boot to step on it, putting it out.

“So,” Wolfwood parrots, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “Are you okay? With all of this, I mean.”

“Me?” Vash blinks, confused. “I guess so, I was mostly worried about—”

He doesn’t get to finish his sentence before Wolfwood reaches over and pulls Vash into an embrace.

“Save it, blondie,” he says quietly. “You and I both know I’m fine with kids.” Wolfwood is also not wrong about that.

“That’s not what I asked you.”

Are you okay with this? Is this what you want?

“I—yeah,” Vash lets out a shaky breath. “I really am.” He wraps his arms around Wolfwood’s neck and buries his face into his shoulder. “Thank you, Nick.”

For everything.

A daughter… she would look just like you, Nick, Vash thinks to himself while Wolfwood continues to argue with him—with their child. And she would act like you, too.

“I don’t need two needle-noggins in my life,” he says sternly, but there’s a hint of amusement in his voice. “So please inherit some damn common sense—”

“I have plenty of common sense,” Vash interrupts him. “For example—”

Wolfwood scoots his hand up underneath Vash’s t-shirt and squeezes the warm skin of Vash’s hip with a rough hand, eliciting a yelp out of him.

“Don’t say another word,” he grumbles, “unless you want me to knock more of that so-called sense into you.”

Vash’s smile is everything devious in nature. “I would love to see you try.”

The first time Wolfwood sees just how different Vash is as far as humans go, he’s equal parts aroused and surprised.

“You really weren’t kidding,” he says while trailing a finger across the inner part of Vash’s upper thigh, tracing a scar that mars the skin there. It stops just short of what he could only describe as thin, petal-like folds, tightly wound and—quivering? “This is pretty freaky, spikey.”

“Don’t tease me,” Vash all but huffs as his body is out on display for him. One too many drinks later and they find themselves in yet another unfamiliar, yet all too recognizable inn bedroom.

It was easy for both of them to make it to this point—they always, always do, but this time it is different. It’s edging closer to something that neither one of them can turn away from.

Wolfwood grins at him. “Oh, I’m just getting started.”

“Can you—y-yes, right there,” Vash’s calves tighten around Wolfwood’s shoulders instinctively, hands gripping the bed sheets beneath him.

“Easy, Vash,” Wolfwood is a little breathless when he pulls back, a hand trailing along the metal of his prosthetic. “Digging into my neck a bit there.”

Vash almost immediately tries to sit up, looking extremely concerned. “Shit, I’m so sorry—”

Wolfwood carefully presses a hand to Vash’s lower abdomen, stopping him. “It’s fine, sweetheart,” he licks his lips. “Lie back down.”

His legs loosen a bit, this time more mindful of Wolfwood’s fleshy shoulders. Vash had insisted on leaving his prosthetics on, enjoying being able to anchor himself against his lover.

Wolfwood continues where he left off, nose brushing the inner, wetter petals that are waiting for him, taking in Vash’s scent with a soft inhale.

He flicks his tongue across them, watching as they unfurl and invite him into something far greater.

“Nick—” Vash arches his back with a groan. “More, I—”

“More what?” Wolfwood murmurs it against the opening of his slit, lips finding their way around the swell of a small bud that is nestled between it. “Full sentences.”

“More, please,” Vash’s voice trembles, “Don’t fucking stop.”

“Language, sweetheart,” Wolfwood presses a kiss to the bud, nips at it gently with his teeth and proceeds to curl his tongue around it.

He sucks long and slow, far too slow for Vash’s liking, evident in the way he hears another groan come from him.

Vash’s hand reaches for Wolfwood’s hair, tugging as he rocks his hips closer.

“Oh, Nick,” he gasps this time and Wolfwood is certain that he’s close, noticing how the room begins to glow a touch brighter.

Seeing those intricate patterns spark to life across various parts of Vash’s body ignites something truly deep within Wolfwood, far deeper than any spoken word of some higher being he could imagine.

They dance across scarred legs, skipping over pieces of well worn beryl-infused metal, trailing up Vash’s torso, his neck—

Vash shudders when he comes, fingers flexing into Wolfwood’s hair, purposefully forcing the man to stay put between his legs.

Not that Wolfwood would have ever minded.

He laps up everything that Vash gives to him and tries to coax out even more with his mouth, relishing the sweet taste that hits his tongue.

“Still with me, darlin’?” Wolfwood breaks away from him with a quiet gasp. He brings a hand up to his lips and wipes at it, grinning.

“Uh-huh,” is the only coherent response he gets, Vash’s body going limp with bliss. “’S good, Nick, you’re so good.”

“Preaching to the choir, I see,” Wolfwood runs a hand up Vash’s thigh, tracing along the intricate plant markings and noting how they shimmer brighter with each touch. “Let’s see what else that pretty mouth of yours can do.”

“How did the appointment go?” Wolfwood eventually asks, moving up to settle beside Vash. “Did Brad ask about—”

“The feathers,” Vash nods and sighs quite dramatically. “It was going so well, too, but then I sneezed and everything just,” he lifted up both his hands and spread his fingers, metal and flesh flexing wide, “Exploded?”

“Exploded?” Wolfwood can’t help but laugh. “Our child is already a menace, I can't believe it.”

One morning Vash had awoken to small, downy feathers attempting to sprout from his shoulders and forearm—the last time that happened, any time that happened, actually, was when they—

Well. Vash definitely didn’t relay that information to Brad, but he didn’t try to hide any of his bodily changes when he went for his most recent checkup.

Luida suspected it had something to do with the pregnancy—that energy, a life, now being constantly generated from within him. He was bound to have some… interesting side effects.

“I couldn’t believe it,” Vash says after a moment. “You should’ve seen the look on Brad's face when it happened though, or the room,” he pauses and glances at Wolfwood with a smile. “Completely covered in feathers.”

Wolfwood snakes an arm across Vash’s chest, moving to rest his head on his shoulder. “Bet he loved that,” he closes his eyes. “Glad everything went smoothly, blondie. I should be able to come next time.”

Vash turns his head and presses a kiss to Wolfwood’s hair. “Luida would like that. She’s been dying to see you again, you know.”

“More like dying to have someone help out around the ship,” Wolfwood sighs, but there’s no malice in his tone. “Say, next time we visit…” he lowers his hand down Vash’s chest, stopping pointedly at his stomach. “They’ll be able to tell us what the little sprout is, yeah?”

Vash’s small intake of breath doesn’t go by unnoticed and it causes Wolfwood to sit up, getting a better look at him. “What’s wrong?”

“Well—” Vash starts to say, but closes his mouth promptly.

“Wait,” Wolfwood reaches over to the side of the bed and suddenly the room is illuminated by the warm glow from the lamp. “Vash, don’t tell me you—” he glances back over at him and studies his face for a moment in silence. Vash desperately wishes Wolfwood wasn’t so damn good at reading him for once.

“You already know, don’t you?”

Vash groans and brings a hand up to his face. “It was an accident, Luida brought it up before I could stop her. I’m so sorry, Nick.”

Wolfwood exhales and slumps back against the pillows. “Unbelievable.”

Vash attempts to roll over to face him, being on his back for so long starting to become a bit uncomfortable. “Nick?”

Silence.

“Nicholas,” Vash pouts—he definitely has no right to do so, but he can’t help it. “I can just tell you, would that make it better?”

“No,” Wolfwood sighs. “I still want it to be a surprise.”

“I can act surprised when she tells us!” Vash says with enthusiasm. Wolfwood gives him a withering look. “No? Okay, okay,” he frowns, “it was worth a shot, though.”

“You are a complete needle-noggin idiot, you know that?” Wolfwood reaches over to flick Vash’s head. “And… it’s all right, don’t worry about it.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes,” Wolfwood stresses the fact with a poke to Vash’s cheek. “I can wait a few more weeks. You better not bring it up on accident, though, or else—”

“I won’t! I promise, scout’s honor!”

Wolfwood is a lazy kisser—Vash used to tease him for it, but it wasn’t as though he was much better—or had any practice.

And they really did have the time now for these sorts of things.

He sighs as Wolfwood peppers a trail of kisses up his chest, taking his time with each scar and meld of flesh and metal his lips come past.

“Nicholas,” Vash’s voice is light, full of warmth. “I thought you said— oh!”

Wolfwood captured his mouth with ease, stopping whatever teasing comment that was about to be said.

His lips are chapped, but still somehow soft, warm—Vash has half a mind to point that out, but Wolfwood won’t allow it with the way his mouth is working.

Vash gives in and sighs into the kiss, tugs him closer, prosthetic fingers raking through Wolfwood’s hair. It’s enough of an incentive to keep going, by any means.

Even if there is shouting outside the inn bedroom’s window, or the ringing of a few gunshots sounding off in the lingering desert air.

Vash breaks the kiss to turn his head, ignoring how Wolfwood sets his aim for his throat.

“Should we go—mmh,” Vash tries to suppress a moan, unsuccessfully, “check that out?”

Wolfwood pauses, lips lingering near Vash’s collarbone. “During the middle of this?”

He has a point.

And to further express said point, Wolfwood slowly rocks his hips along Vash’s thighs.

“You’re right,” and Vash can’t believe he’s saying it with a smile on his face, one that Wolfwood can’t see from this angle, but knows that the man can feel.

The whole room is lighting up, after all.

“It can wait,” Vash decides, and Wolfwood takes him.

One minute of silence passes between them, and then two.

“Okay, I can’t do this,” Wolfwood rolls over to face Vash. “’M not going to be able to sleep unless I know.”

Vash is unable to restrain himself from laughing. “Really? Surely there’s something in your good book about rewarding patience.”

“Always be humble and gentle; be patient, bearing with one another in love,” Wolfwood recalls the passage in a low voice. “I think I’ve been pretty gentle lately, all things considered.”

“Oh, absolutely,” Vash agrees, amused. “Not so humble, though. Might need some brushing up on that.”

Wolfwood slides a bit closer to Vash. “Good thing we’ll have some down time for the next couple of months then—I could use some practice.”

“I happen to know an excellent teacher,” Vash says. He feels Wolfwood snake an arm across underneath the blankets, reaching for his shoulder to pull Vash in an embrace.

“If you say Brad, I swear to fucking God—”

Vash’s huff of laughter is the only response Wolfwood gets before a pale hand beckons him closer.

Even in the now-quiet of the room, Vash’s whisper to his ear is perhaps the softest thing Wolfwood has heard in a very long time.

He can’t help his too sudden reply, his own voice on the verge of cracking. “Really?”

Vash nods. “Yes, really.”

And if Wolfwood hid his face in the crook of Vash’s neck, eyes filled with a dampness that threatened to spill over and unable to say anything else except a murmured ‘thank you’—

It was enough.

#trigun #trigun stampede #vash the stampede #nicholas d wolfwood #vashwood #fanfic #fic #texte #my writing #hewwo friends long time no motherfuckin see am i right LOL #man. wow. it has really been a hot minute since i've last wrote something #trigun kinda took over my brain (not complaining tho)#i don't really have many pals who are into the series atm so i'm just yodeling into a void by myself tbh #anyway i posted this to ao3 the other day and figured i should cross post it here too #title is unabashedly from the foo fighters and yes it's in my wv playlist #nobody asked but i'm saying that much #these 2 guys r so fucking!!!!!!! TRAGIC #i just want them to have a family. god bless the plantussy #ok i am going now perhaps i will return? with more fics? we shall see #love & peace 2 u all <3

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void-writing · 2 years

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One Batfam and Danny interaction that just came to me:

Danny, pointing fingers: How come that you can control those powers already?! It took me months not to clip through the walls!!

Whether or not said Batfam member really has as much control over their new, Danny-given powers as Danny at first believes is a different matter. XD It's about his outrage.

Hahaha lol.

I haven't gone into power shenanigans yet (that'll probably be an extra story somewhere down the line) but my thinking is that the Bats had a fairly easy time with their powers because 1) superpowers aren't that unusual in the DCU, so they have not only real live points of reference but people they can turn to with questions, and 2) they really only have to deal with 1 power whereas Danny was dealing with 3+ simultaneously.

Of course, I haven't shown it yet but like Danny, the Batfam's new powers are largely stuck in the "on" position if they aren't passive, and even then there's something of an adjustment period.

Dick floats if he's not mindful of it and now frequently hovers over his bed when he's sleeping, The Exorcist style. He kind of just lets himself do it when he's alone or in the company of other Bats or heroes, so it's not too much of an issue so long as he's not seen doing it in pubic as a civilian.

Jason is going to have a hard time getting needles through his skin now, so he better be careful about exposure to airborne chemical weapons. And also getting yearly vaccines.

Tim's astral projection doesn't necessarily mean that he's fully resting. The energy is more split between his astral form and his physical body, so the longer he spends in astral form, the less restful his sleep is. Also, the activation of his power depends on how tired he is when he goes to bed. If he's exhausted enough, he'll just sleep normally and not project at all.

Damian definitely melts a few things in his hands when he's not careful (canon seems to portray ecto-blasts as heat-based attacks, so I'm going to roll with that even though Danny is definitely more ice-affiliated).

Cass slips into the shadows a little too easily sometimes.

Steph sometimes ends up blocking herself with her own shields.

Barbara has to be mindful of what her new telekinesis grabs onto and from what direction it's coming from.

Kate is fortunate that her duplicates can't make duplicates, otherwise she'd have a harder time hiding it.

Duke definitely underestimates his own strength for a while after the abrupt buff. He may not have super-durability, which would enable him to punch through things or crush them without hurting himself, but he does keep accidentally pushing and pulling things too hard. Doors are tricky for him for a bit XD

Bruce regularly keeps blinking out of the visible spectrum, if not the entire detectable spectrum all together. Basically, his power has two settings: plain vanilla invisible (where he's just not detectable on a visible light spectrum), and Super Invisibility (where he just plain stops being detectable period). He can only maintain Super Invisibility for a few minutes continuously before it starts to wear him out (and you can bet that every time he uses it, Clark is sending him a "you good?" text or just straight up calling him to make sure he's okay XD). Of course, his power wants to be "on" all the time, so he has to be mindful of keeping himself within the visible spectrum, lest he just blip out of peoples' perception for a while.

And a note on Alfred's power: He's not going to "de-age" past his prime. I'm putting his age in CiM at around late 70's, early 80's. What his new power is doing is walking his physical body back towards the top of the "physical aptitude" curve, so he'll look like late 50's, early 60's instead of his actual age, but it won't go further than that. And most importantly, he'll feel like he's in his 50's again too :)

To note, when I say "Alfred is immortal now" I mostly mean that he doesn't age anymore. He can still be killed or fall ill, but time no longer wears on him like it used to (and really, as far as CiM is concerned, time was the only real threat to Alfred''s continued presence, so functionally, he is immortal now lol).

One thing that I do plan on writing later is that Jason and Duke spar a lot both for training and for fun because their powers kind of balance each other. Jason can take Duke's hits and Duke can wrestle Jason on fairly equal standing.

But we will be seeing Danny's reaction to the Batfam's swanky new powers fairly soon :)

#void answers #change in management #dc x dp #dc #danny phantom #batman #i recently read 'Batman and The Signal' and i loved jason and duke's dynamic in it #jason was the tough love older brother for duke but you could tell they were pals

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