19 🦋 Dni: if you're evil (proshippers, Nazis, pedos, zoos, etc) or a minor 🦋 Yo yo yo this is my main blog for all my silly whims and not entirely just creepypasta bullshit!! (Mostly Trigun over here 😔) 🦋 Requests open for writing or doodles 🦋 Main project: @maddashdiscoinferno
Part 1: A Rock, an Angel, and A Middle School Science Teacher Walk Into A Spaceship
Description: On their way back to Erid, Rocky and Grace are alerted of a new blip! A tear in reality and time deposits a new companion aboard their ship but their new stranger seems to not share their perspective or enthusiasm. Maybe this tale will not end happy, or maybe, their way ward angel will find his absolution in the company of mortals.
Content: Ryland Grace (Project Hail Mary) x Millions Knives (Trigun), eventual angst, mostly quirky bullshit rn, slightly ooc, 1st person pov: Ryland Grace. Takes place post Trimax and on the way to Erid
Authors Notes: I need y'all to remember that this is my dream house so everything is slightly ooc. I've also had to write this like 3 times now because I kept closing Tumblr without saving. This also follows my head cannon I wrote about WAYYYY back where human dependant plants are still genetically engineered BUT they are made using observations and samples of naturally occuring plants which is what drops off Knives at the Hail Mary. She probably won't appear again but just an explanation for this diva. ALSO! If Rocky's dialogue is not written the same way as the book, I apologize, I fear I'm listening to the audiobook and currently do not have a visual reference. Cross posted on AO3
"Blip C is approaching." the feminine yet sterile voice of the ship rang out. Which we would've paid more attention to had Rocky and I not been already staring at space freaking ripping itself apart in front of us.
It was possibly one of the most beautiful and horrifying sights I have ever seen. Hues of blues, purples, and pinks, outlined the blinding white edges of the tear in a way that mimicked one of NASA's galaxy photographs. The rift didn't seem to have any gravity, or if it did, whatever tore this hole was localizing it enough for us to not be pulled in. The Hail Mary's alarms weren't blaring either so Rocky and I came to the silent conclusion of maybe we should just... watch... this all play out.
Twenty or so minutes ticked by. The hole got a little bigger then stopped. It's a promising sign really, means Rocky and I wouldn't have to solve another world ending crisis any time soon, or at least to the best of our knowledge we wouldn't. God I hope we don't. Ive had enough of that for one life time, scratch that, one Eridian life time and even then that's not enough.
"Grace look, statement."
I turned my head back towards the window and- dear lord- something is pulling itself through the hole. The thing was massive, just the part pulled through the hole was about the size of Rockeys ship. My jaw was slacked as I watched two delicate hands pull the hole open a little wider and shove the top half of its body through. It looked humanish at first. A feminine face, upper torso, and hair floating in the vast expanse of space. But then the feathers and multiple appendages; including but not limited to dozens of wings and masses that looked like the cross between a fetus and rotisserie chicken all emerging from its- her back. She was slightly translucent and looked as if she might be made of the stars themselves. She turned her head towards the Hail Mary and eyes are darker than the cosmos we floated in stared back.
Oh shit she's staring at us.
"What Rocky Grace do, question." Rocky spoke in an attempt at a hushed voice.
"I have no clue bud." I replied, frozen in terror.
She tilted her head side to side. Gosh she was amazing but I'm seriously trying not to crap myself right now.
After what seemed to be a moment of contemplation, a smile curled at her lips and she pulled a long arm through the hole. She reached out towards the Hail Mary with her fist loosely closed and then just... Stopped.
"What?" I asked no one particularly, still baffled by what was happening.
"Maybe being is trying to hand Grace and Rocky something, question." Rocky cut in, sharp as always.
I snapped my head down to look at him
"What could that thing possibly want to give us??? How would we even collect it??"
Rocky shrugged to the first question then answered, "Grace go outside."
Oh. I had forgotten about that while trying to wrap my head around this whole situation.
"Yea... Yea okay." Was all I responded. I know it's probably an extraordinarily stupid idea but what else are we supposed to do?
After a few minutes I got into the EVA suit and floated out to meet our reality ripping new friend. She seemed pleased then brought her hand closer, pausing momentarily when I flinched. She opened her palm and gently nudged what or rather who, she was holding towards me.
I caught the figure before he drifted off and once they were securely in my arms, she nodded and disappeared back through the hole again.
Just before the rift closed I got a nagging itch in my mind and the intrusive phrase:
Take care of our brother, star saviors
I floated there dumb founded for a minute before crackling came through my coms.
"Grace okay, question."
"Yea buddy, returning to you now."
"Quick quick quick."
"Im coming as quick as I can!"
Well. The person that the reality ripping being gave us looks to be human. Visually speaking, he's a young man who's probably in his late twenties. He's so pale I thought he might have just been a corpse handed off to us to deal with. I suppose that would be rather rude though of the mind bending, larger than life, reality ripping being that vaugly resembles a biblically acurate-
"Holy moly I think we just met God."
"Who is God, question." Rockys question pulls me away from my train of thought and back to the present. Oops, must've said that out loud.
I give him an exasperated look, "I'm gonna need to rain check that one."
Rocky gives me an exaggerated sigh movement but doesn't press.
My attention is turned back to the man. When I retrieved him his features were obscured by a mostly opaque thin membrane. Lucky for us the membrane melted upon coming into contact with room temperature. Upon analysis the membrane was, of course, water. Because why wouldn't it be. Despite my personal grudges against the compound, Rocky and I both concluded it must've been keeping the stranger alive while he was in the care of the erm... Angel. Let's just call it an angel for now because I'm not willing to unpack any further implications of a higher being right now.
The man the angel brought us is in fact alive though! Vitals taken by the ship confirmed that and he has no surface or internal injuries. The membrane was unfortunately his only cover so we have currently draped the sheet I used as a toga at the start of this endeavor as a covering for modesty. I felt rude to poke around to see if he and I have any anatomical differences so I am operating under the base assumption that he is also human, at least until he wakes up and proves otherwise. He has jet black hair with a sharp facial structure, a little mole near his right eye, and the most lucious eyelashes I have ever seen. It's damn near unfair how gorgeous our new companion is. Wait. New companion.
I groan and shove my face into my hands. Now we get to figure out survival with another mouth to feed. Maybe we will get lucky! Maybe he doesn't need to eat! Wait no, don't be stupid, everything needs to eat! That's how we got into the mess in the first place.
I must've slipped off into the blissful ignorance of dream land because I am woken up by loud banging, screaming, and hissing.
"Grace! New Human wake up! Chase Rocky!" Rocky scuttled around in his ball while the stranger staggered around agitated and violently swinging his arms around. He has his teeth bared, sharpened canines catching on the synthetic led lights, his fingers curled into a claw like motion, and he kept moving his shoulders in a way that seemed like he was used to having more limbs. His violent outburst turned to a distressed violent outburst.
"Woah! Hey! Hey calm down man!" I shout putting my hands up. Rocky rolls behind my legs and the stranger whips his head towards me. His blind panic stops for a moment and his shoulders slump. His eyes, the most brilliant blue I have ever seen, quickly scan me over. Recognition flickers in his gaze but is promptly overshadowed by disappointment, anger, and fear.
He looses his balance and I step forward to catch him. Instead, he catches himself on the wall and shoots me a nasty look. He instead clumsily moves over to the far corner where he curls into himself but keeps his sharp eyes trained on Rocky and I.
The room is so quiet you could hear a pin drop but I take a breath.
"Uhm hello." I nervously speak, careful not to move. He doesn't say anything.
"Uhm I'm not sure if you can even understand me but you're probably wondering where you are and who we are. I'm Ryland Grace, this is Rocky, you're currently aboard the Hail Mary. Do you remember how you got here?" Stupid question, of course he doesn't, he was unconscious for crying out loud!
He doesn't answer.
"Right um, let's start with something easier, do you have a name?" Way to go Grace you're operating under the assumption that this guy can even understand you.
I lower my hands and pinch the bridge of my nose with a sigh. I turn towards Rocky who is still standing alert behind me. What a nightmare this is all devolving into.
I caught movement out of the corner of my eye and turned back to the stranger. He stood, well as much as you can in zero gravity but the way he composed himself told me that he was used to some sort of weightlessness. He straightened out and stood with his chest puffed out and chin held high. He commanded the same sort of respect I'd only ever seen in Stratt; unfortunately, the man before me was bare naked so some of the effect was lost.
Then, to my utter bafflement he finally spoke instead of hissing or growling. His speech was an incredibly odd and discerning variation of English. Most of the words were in fact what I assume to be an American variation of English; however, pronunciations, uses, and even entire phrases seemed to be pulled directly from other languages. Immediately I could recognize what seemed to be a heavy French and Japanese influence in his words. The way he spoke was domineering and, for lack of a better term, posh. But all wrapped together in the frankly bizarre bow of a thick western drawl. Listening to him speak was like hearing Dolly Parton give a presidential address while also slipping seamlessly between a handful of other languages. It sounded wrong like a pale imitation of real human communication but I chucked that thought away for later.
"I am Millions Knives but you can call me Lord Knives."
I snickered at that. Oh COME ON! Millions Knives? Gosh this is turning out to be one strange day.
I catch myself before any other noises of amusement could leave me. If looks could kill I would be skewered by the glare he sent me.
Composing myself I grab the sheet from his bed and hand it back to the stranger- Knives- with a nervous smile. Rocky still shifts wearily behind me, muttering "bad, bad, bad" and other phrases we have yet to translate.
"Well anyways, welcome aboard the Hail Mary, Knives."
Au where after a while, Vash went back to Hopeland to help Ms. Melanie with the orphans. He spent the rest of his days telling the stories of his friends to all the little kids. He far outlived his friends and many of the kids he helped care for but he found peace and was able to grieve while making sure their legacies lived on. Now hundreds of years have passed, Vash has long returned to those he left behind in time, and the Eye of Michaels cult has morphed into a proper spiritual belief that is talked about more as guidance than truth. Now they teach about the twin Angels of Judgment/Justice and of Mercy/Second Chances. People pray to the angels of course but most children find comfort in the saints. Saint Meryl, the patron saint of truth. Saint Milly, the patron saint of wisdom. Saint Livio, the patron saint of perseverance. Saint Razlo, the patron saint of change. Saint Nicholas, the patron saint of the lost. There are more of course; music, the abused, theater, insects, the body, incomplete journeys, etc. How beautiful, that in the end, not a soul was lost from Vash's story and not one of them is a villain any longer.
Eek! I'm sorry this took me so long, life has been crazzzzzzyyyyyyyyy!
Anyway: Under My Skin: chapter 3! (Knives x Uncanny!Reader)
CW: mentions of suicide, attempted suicide, depression, Knives is still an asshole
Part 1 and Part 2
This is the worse before it gets better prommy!
"I see we are back to silence," Knives bluntly observed.
You sat curled up in a cute little window nook, furnished with more ugly yellow fabrics and pillows while he just sorta stood beside you. Your gaze was pointed out towards the faint outline of the town on the horizon; right where it had been for days. Your quiet mourning of what could never be was becoming terribly boring for Knives. So much so he found himself nearly missing his cult, but only nearly.
"If this is about the pests throwing you out of town I'm not sure what you expected. All of you humans are exactly the same; wastes of resources. They don't like different, never have, perhaps you deserve-"
"Shut up," the growled words were more pathetic in nature than intimidating.
"Pardon?" Knives sneered full of that arrogance that seemed to cling to him with sharpened claws.
"I said shut up. You're the last person who gets to rant about being a waste of resources," you gesture limply to your home without looking away from the window, "you do nothing but eat, shit, and whine. You talk about humans as scum but have relied on them for all your dirtiest sins. The people who worshipped you turned me into this... Thing... This thing that they now look down upon, that you look down upon. You moan on and on about how miserable your life is but you don't leave. YOU DONT LEAVE! Is this torture? Why did Vash do this to me? Do I deserve this? Maybe he too hates me. Maybe I'm better off disappearing..." Your voice started to shake as you trailed off into a spiral of your own misery.
Another unwelcome pang of emotion curdled in Knives' chest. He didn't like your scathing assessment of him nor did he like the hopless lilt your voice now carried. Before, despite his best efforts to make you miserable, you still seemed hopeful that life could be good. But now that hope was gone, he had succeeded, and he wasn't daft enough to not acknowledge that he hated it.
It was a strangely uncomfortable thought how circular this conversation was; how circular your exsistance was. His meddling in humans affairs led to you being captured and tortured, then he ended up being stuck here while you helped him heal, now you were captured and tortured again because of what his humans and their cults did to you, at this rate you must be on track to mend him again. The thought made him nauseous. That foreign thought of... empathy... for another, a human no less, disgusted him. Some part of him that had been softened over these last few months tugged to offer you at least a bit of comfort as he watches your form settle against the window. Surely the sun warmed glass must burn your pretty skin. In the end though, he pulled away and went back to his room.
~
Deep darkness engulfed the house when he finally emerged from the guest room he had staked as his territory. He only lugged his way out because he had yet to smell food. Odd, even in this stupor you at least made some sort of dinner in the evenings? Not Tonight though. Tonight the back door was wide open and the house was eerily empty.
He wasn't a fool and put two and two together rather quickly. He rolled his eyes at your mellow drama and went to see if he could spot you. Perhaps you headed to the town again? Or maybe you were just tending to affairs outside? When those options turned up empty he squinted looking out into the vast expanse of the desert behind your house. There he just barely saw your form way off in the distance; hobbling into the dark, unforgiving, open sand.
Knives scoffed under his breath and gathered his shoes and cloak to go after you.
~
It has been hours. You were walking for hours, the scorching heat of the day had burnt the bottoms of your bare feet to numbness which made the freezing cold a bit more bearable as you stumbled in a dazed stupor.
Disappear. Vanish without a trace. Your service is done and your debt is paid. He used you for this, that's the only reason he saved you in the first place. Now that your service is done, there's no point in playing house. Let the sand consume you, it's the only thing you're good for.
Walking. Walking until you couldn't anymore. Walking until your wounds reopened and the fatigue of the last couple days knocked you to the ground. Walking until you were sure the sand would bury you in an unmarked grave, just where monsters like you deserved to rest. Rest. That sounded so nice... Would the end be forgiving? Would your soul finally no longer be alone? Your vision grew hazy as unconsciousness lulled you into the dark.
~
You came to momentarily. Something warm and strong cradled you as you were moved through the night. You heard something, maybe a voice? Maybe some sort of other sound? Maybe the song of a plant? Either way you couldn't quite make it out. Your exhausted brain didn't think too much of it though only lingering on how this feeling was comforting, how the warm strength you were propped up against pulled up back under into the bliss of sleep.
~
Dull afternoon light filtered in through thin pastel curtains, the soft warmth of late day suns greeting you. A soft smile found your lips as thoughts of freedom finally allowed you to relax, only for that all to be popped by the familiar blunt voice of your black haired shadow.
"You're awake?" He almost sound relieved as you flopped your head to the side to look at him.
The sight sent you reeling. There stood the infamous Millions Knives in YOUR frilly pink apron, holding a bowl of what looks like poorly made batter, while his mouth was open like a fish.
After blinking owlishly for a solid minute you finally gathered back your cool indifference, "Unfortunately."
God the both of you were insufferable.
"That's... Good. I'm... Pleased."
"House too boring?"
"I thought I killed you too."
"What?"
"I-" he turned away with a scoff, there he was, your Knives.
"I'll bring you something to eat."
All this confusion and this new suddenly empathetic Knives had your temples aching. So, being the ever stable adult you are, you went back to sleep.
~
Fingers that only knew blood traced your cheek so gently. Pin feathers that did not belong to the body they sprouted on drew his eyes and gentle graze to the corners of your eyes. Those feathers tried so hard to keep your body warm. Those feathers served you so dutifully; keeping you preserved till he could come to save you. Strange, awful, wonderful you. To think, he drove you here. That he was almost responsible for the death of someone who's only sin was to care for him. He wouldn't repeat the past. With this second chance, he refused to let the cycle be circular any longer.
Shout out the fact that Vash being a freak all of Badlands Rumble still wasn't enough to make his relationship with Wolfwood any less gay the minute that priest walked his fine ass on screen.
The pomegranate has many meanings; death, abundance, matrimony, and many many more. I like how this holy fruit, much like the apple, continues to grow in its meaning. How in today's terms it's also a symbol of devotion. Tender peeling, careful harvesting, plucking each seed, all of which stain your hands red. After all, is there any deeper devotion than tending a fruit that mimics a bleeding hearts plea, for a lover who may or may not remain unaware of your worship?
[drawing under the cut features a decomposing corpse]
Vash and Wolfwood get married but neither of them wear any speck of white because they both view themselves as so tainted and fundamentally impure that, surely, sin must have originated from them. But they do indulge in the ceremony and fanfare, because despite how the devil may have crafted their souls himself, there would be no greater sin than to not honor a war well won and a love that bloomed amidst it all.
Mmmmmm the idea that Vash, long after the fight is won, would sometimes stumble on over to Wolfwoods grave just to lay on it and try to slip his rotting corpse some of his energy. Most the time he just lays there and cries, imagining the heated sand as Wolfwoods warm embrace. He knows forking energy into the earth to try and reach Wolfwood would only kill him. Maybe a tree would sprout but that would be it. But would it really be so bad if he was resting by Wolfwoods side again? Would it be so bad if Vash became the fungus that dutifully decomposes his beloved?
Having a lot of staple outfit pieces/accessories that are based off of the outfits of your favorite characters is so funny because tf you mean Vash the Stampede is fighting for his life trying to get into his apartment in the pouring rain??? Tf you mean Kenny McCormick is dropping sick beats at his local radio station??? Tf you mean Toby Rodgers pulled over to the side of the road because his broke ass thought some utility boxes were free shelves??? Tf you mean Rudo Surebrec has a dead bee in his office because he keeps forgetting to take it home to pin???
Nightow really wrote a story about an angel being put face to face with the consequences of his morality, whose best friend is a "corrupt" priest, AND in the same stroke had some of the most humanizing characterization of minority groups/mental illness/gender/sexuality to come out of the 90's and early 2000's and expected everyone to be super normal about that. Legend and a king.
I need you all to know that '98 Wolfwood is a bitch ass hoe and a FREAK. He was one handed slinging around Punisher with ZERO (0) enhancements and doing it one handed.
"Oh Dash, how does this make him a freak?"
I'll tell you how. I bought a mattress for my new apartment the other day and when it arrived it was in a box a little shorter and thicker than Punisher is; however, it weight roughly the same if not less than what Punisher weighs. Now, I'm not the strongest man this side of the Mississippi but I do have a pretty decent amount of strength, that being said, I HAD TO DRAG THIS BOX LIKE A CORPSE TO GET IT TO MY APARTMENT, THERE WAS ABSOLUTELY ZERO WAY I COULD LIFT IT AN INCH!!! AND YOURE TELLING ME WOLFWOOD FROM THE '98 ANIME WHO HAS NO ENHANCEMENTS WHIPPED THAT SHIT AROUND LIKE A COLOR GUARD FLAG ARE YOU FUCKING SHITTING ME????
