corvidsaints
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“Morning, Nick.” Millie leans against the doorframe, arms laced in front of her stomach. “I didn’t notice you getting up, or I would’ve said hi then!”
“Wasn’t too long ago,” Wolfwood grunts. He runs his hand through his own hair. They’ve lived together for multiple years by now, but he still gets a little embarrassed by the old rooster head. Even though Millie seems nothing but charmed by it, or most of the things that Wolfwood finds embarrassing. “Just needed to get a different shirt. Getting a little chilly.”
“I think I saw it snowing earlier,” Millie agrees thoughtfully. Her eyes drop from Wolfwood’s face to the garment still in his hands, a smile lighting up her face. “Is that mine? You should wear it! You always look really good in green.”
Wolfwood uses his shoulder to scratch his ear. “Think so?”
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Wolfwood, Millie, and Meryl get through a cold, sleepy day together.
Bookmarked by corvidsaints
05 Sep 2025
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And now it’s been three years. Meryl looks at the calendar, then back at Nicholas, the man who she almost lost just five months later. Who she now lives with, a stone’s throw away from the orphanage where he grew up, a living reminder of the fact that he never had a mother to cry-not-cry over in the first place. Meryl bites down again on the inside of her cheek.
“My mom died,” Meryl says, “three years ago… today.” Her eyes drift, unseeing, back to the calendar. “I don’t really know what to do with myself.”
Nicholas tilts his head. It would be a fully neutral look if not for his eyes, which have softened. Biggest reason why he wears the sunglasses, Meryl imagines—or, well, the second biggest, with the fact that they live on a desert planet being the first. Still, Meryl would call his expression more assessing than fully worried, his lips tugging into a purse and then flattening out into a straight line.
“Alright.” Nicholas leans over and plants a kiss against her forehead. “What’d she like for breakfast?”
“What?”
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The death anniversary of Meryl's mother arrives. Her partners see to her needs.
Bookmarked by corvidsaints
05 Sep 2025
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Wolfwood ignores his gripe. “You’ve been moving weird all day. What happened? Are you hiding an injury? Spill it,” he adds, when Vash starts to speak. Vash shuts his mouth with a telltale click, then lets out a huff, giving Wolfwood a particularly grumpy look as he turns around and begins the tedious process of unbuttoning his duster. Rather than continue to push, Wolfwood folds his arms across his chest and waits. Taps his foot, even. He’s fine with being obnoxious about this, so long as he gets results. Vash very rarely gives unless you needle him a little. Lucky that Wolfwood’s so good at needling.
Finally, Vash drops his arms and allows his jacket to slide to the floor. The cause of his discomfort is immediate evident. White feathers have sprung over his exposed back, the length of his non-prosthetic arm, peeking out from the neck of his shirt. They bulge from his pants, his long, strappy boots. As Vash turns to face him again, Wolfwood sees that quills are even peeking out on his cheeks, unfurling before his very eyes as Vash gives him this incredibly miserable wet cat look, folding his arms across his stomach.
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Wolfwood helps Vash alleviate a little feather-related discomfort.
Bookmarked by corvidsaints
05 Sep 2025
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Somewhere With Donuts, Hopefully by auroralightss
Fandoms: Trigun (Anime & Manga 1995-2008)
21 Jul 2025
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“...Oh, but Mr. Vash, if what you’d rather have is a quiet evening tonight after your bath, that’s okay. You are my family, but it’s whatever you feel like doing, since it is your birthday. Don’t feel like you have to celebrate it in any particular way.”
Millie’s sweet. The reality is, if any of them tried to “force” a celebration on him—not that they would—Vash would probably make a clean and quick getaway. He’s not above just splitting if the situation gets hairy… Even these days, in this life, where he’s trying to get a little bit better at staying. The consequences of getting overwhelmed are just too steep (for others and also for Vash himself) to risk it, these days.
Thinking about it, though, Vash isn’t sure how to answer Millie because he just doesn’t know what he wants. The bath, he’s pretty sure about. Vash is pretty hyperaware of his water usage, so he never takes baths, and will be happy to indulge tonight. His achy joints will be even happier. His specialty donut is also a given.
What Vash knows for sure that he wants, otherwise, isn’t something he can have.
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Vash the Stampede and the mortifying ideal of being celebrated.
Bookmarked by corvidsaints
30 Aug 2025
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“Vash,” you repeat his name, ducking your head slightly to try and make his eyes catch your own. “Are you okay?”
He is silent for a few moments, but his heart doesn’t slow.
”… I uh… I’ve… never… done this before,” he finally admits with a soft whisper. Vash lifts a hand and gestures towards himself, over dozens of scars that must have years of history behind them all; injuries that didn’t heal correctly, wounds that were too deep.
And that’s when it hits you.
”You’ve never let anyone see you naked.”
Bookmarked by corvidsaints
26 Aug 2025