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Reclamation by TimelessRiver
Fandoms: Trigun Stampede (Anime 2023), Trigun (Anime & Manga 1995-2008)
19 Dec 2023
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“What’s gotten into you, anyway? I’m sure Shortie wouldn’t mind givin’ you a cuddle once we wrap up here.” Wolfwood teased, earning a raised eyebrow from Roberto across the table.
“Don’t gimme that look when you and I both know how bad Blondie has it, grandpa. Guy’s been simpering for days.”
“Listen, what newbie and the pup get up to is their business. You could stand to learn a thing or two from our gentleman outlaw, you know.”
Roberto spared Vash an appraising glance to which he offered a sad, appreciative smile in return. It was rare to receive approval from someone so guarded, but Vash could tell he was growing on the older journalist. It did little to assuage his fear, however, that he wasn’t good enough. Vash had spent decades avoiding intimacy after so many relationships had fallen apart for one reason or another, and he couldn’t bear to see through to the end the ones that didn’t. Outliving those he loved was quite possibly the most cruel part of his existence, but denial of the self was a close second.
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Lightning Strikes, Maybe Once, Maybe Twice by TimelessRiver
Fandoms: Trigun Stampede (Anime 2023), Trigun (Anime & Manga 1995-2008)
04 Oct 2023
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If there was one thing most unbecoming of Vash The Stampede, it was utter silence.
Something that Meryl had grown used to in the weeks following Vash’s company was her ability to always know where he was. From his infectious laughter to the theatrical warbling that arose during Wolfwood’s teasing, Vash was rarely ever quiet. There were soft snores through the night while he slept; quick, successive taps on the van door during long drives. Now, he lay still and quietly save for the intermittent rise and fall of his chest, the only evidence that he was still among the living.
Or: Meryl insists on remaining by Vash’s side until he wakes from his Episode 7 collapse, and ruminates on the pain that Independent Plants must endure for sharing a world with humans who don’t deserve them.
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Nick caught Vash out of the corner of his eye leaning against the doorframe of the station’s restrooms. Vash, ever the opportunist, raised his eyebrows and gave the smallest beckoning jerk of his neck.
That little shit.
Except, Vash was far from little, and instead a proper relic that defied the laws of nature and physics; though, Nick wasn’t too hung up on the details. Unlike Vash, he was just a man after all, and as The Good Book would imply, a slave to instincts that he was meant to suppress. Or, something.
(Or: Vash and Nick have an impromptu coupling in a seedy stopover restroom, then proceed To Have a Lot of Feelings About It)
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A long horizontal scar stretched from one end of his abdomen to the other, low toward his hips. It was nearly invisible to the human eye after more than a century, but Nick couldn’t quite place why it seemed so peculiar.
“Hey, blondie… where’d this one come from?”
“Hm? Where’d what come from?”
“This scar, here.” Nick clarified, tracing his forefinger against it for emphasis, “I don’t think you ever told me. Ah, not that you have to; just curious, is all.”
Vash hummed to himself for a moment. It happened so long ago that he rarely paid it any mind, but every so often he could still feel the sting of such a transgression. The phantom pain was nothing compared to the lasting grief that he had no choice but to set aside.
(Or: Vash tells Nick about the trials he endured in order to become his most authentic self)
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In that very room, Nicholas Wolfwood was fast asleep on the sofa bed their room provided. Nick, simple creature that he was, could not have been bothered to waste the energy pulling out the bed itself. His legs hung over one arm carelessly, a throw pillow beneath his head. Vash so desperately wished he were Nick in that moment.
He wished he were anyone but himself.(Or: Years of sexual repression rise to the surface, and Vash doesn’t know how to handle it)
(UPDATE: Oh baby, a triple!) -
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Hob attempts to rebuild his friendship with Dream despite questions left unanswered, and Dream comes to learn the depth of Hob's capacity for forgiveness. For all of Dream's cold indifference, he is remarkably fragile in the hands of someone who loves him.
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Right Here With You by TimelessRiver
Fandoms: The Sandman (TV 2022), The Sandman (Comics)
21 Nov 2022
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Hob’s eyes snapped open once again. He found himself not in his beaten rowboat, but lying on the sands of a beach. The sand was uncharacteristically hot for how dark the atmosphere was, but Hob daren’t question it. The feeling sunk into his bones like an embrace; like he’d pressed his cheek directly to the balm of a campfire’s radiating warmth. He could live in it forever, he thought. Like all things in his life, however, this feeling couldn’t last forever.
A harsh wind blew at his back. The shock of it frightened him enough to rise up by his forearms and cower from the swirling sand around him. He coughed roughly, the sand whipping through his hair and face and eyes. “Please, enough of this! Wake up! Christ, why can’t I wake up?” He felt the sting of tears mingling with Earth, but just as quickly as the sandstorm began, it ended in a hush. Bright light blinded him behind closed eyelids, and that terrified him more than the dark. Were his six centuries of sins finally catching up to him? Was this the end?
“Rise to your feet, dear heart. Don’t be afraid.”
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…Bad dogs do it best.
Dream gets a bit more than he bargained for when he agrees to accompany Rose and Jed for a day of fun at the park, but is not so easily swayed from his delicate sensibilities. The pair were not expecting Dream to grow so smug & confident in his new vessel of gangly limbs, but every dog has its day.
(Will update tags if/when necessary.)
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And From the Dark, Into the Light by TimelessRiver
Fandoms: The Sandman (TV 2022), The Sandman (Comics)
03 Oct 2022
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If Hob gazed into Dream’s eyes long enough, it would feel like falling; like staring into eternity through a mirror that he could not see himself in. Hob once thought that perhaps he was too pure a creature to reflect the cruelty humankind wrought. Perhaps he was right.
Series
- Part 2 of The Gods We Can Touch
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Your Body is an Altar by TimelessRiver
Fandoms: The Sandman (TV 2022), The Sandman (Comics)
27 Sep 2022
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Summary
Dream knew he should’ve felt proud for accomplishing so much in so little time, but his eyes remained downcast. He looked like a skittish animal that could bolt at any minute, so before he did, Hob reached for Dream and pulled him into a tight embrace before he could think better of it. Dream went rigid in his arms, still tense from the instinct to run, until he allowed himself to slacken. His head lay on Hob’s shoulder while he wasted no time carding his fingers through Dream’s raven locks.
“If I’d been here today, I would’ve held you just like this,” Hob spoke quietly into Dream’s ear, eliciting a full-body shudder at the sensation, “I would hope you’d stay a while, yes? We should talk.”
Series
- Part 1 of The Gods We Can Touch
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This Could Be a Dream by TimelessRiver
Fandoms: The Sandman (Comics), The Sandman (TV 2022)
08 Sep 2022
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Hob refused to meet Morpheus’ piercing gaze at first. If he did, he would surely break. Yet despite his reservations toward the other, he looked up to meet his eyes which were cloudy as though he were somewhere far away; as though he were reliving something he’d tried to bury. He wanted desperately to pull him back from whatever pit he’d fallen into just then, but didn’t know how. His body felt heavy like his muscles had forgotten how to work, but then he slid closer to Morpheus’ side; their arms brushing.
“Where in the world have you been?”
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Rose continued stroking his side, down his back, then back up to his ears in a pattern meant to soothe. It was hard to think of Dream as a skittish creature unused to human contact, but she believed that at his core there was a part of him that never left his prison; his corporeal human body is the prison. One hundred years in isolation from the sun and the connection he had with a world of his own making that could no longer thrive in his absence. She couldn’t imagine the kind of person who could do that to a being such as him.
She didn’t want to. -
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Will thought about how easy it would be for Hannibal to use such an environment to his advantage; how easy it would be to wring his neck and drain the life from his veins as he did to so many before him, and cast his unwanted remains out to sea.
Were there any parts of Will that Hannibal did not want?
Hannibal was much like the sea in that he, too, was an unrelenting force of nature to be reckoned with. In the arms of the sea, there are no regrets; there is no forgiveness, nor hope to be tainted by with poison.“There’s not much that separates you now from who you were then, Hannibal. You think that by—by getting to the heart of me, you can undo the image of yourself starving while alone in the snow all those years ago... But to be honest, I don’t think that you ever stopped.”
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It's Summer: The sunflowers are in full bloom, and so is he.
Series
- Part 6 of Somewhere Down That Road
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It began as a joke.
No, really.
Scott would be lying if he said that Mike didn’t well and truly scare the living hell out of him the night that he nearly drowned himself by simply taking a bath in Scott’s own home; his home, only hours after finding Mike out cold on the side of the road all alone. And he just about died in a tub of jasmine-scented bath water. If it could’ve gotten any worse, Scott had no idea how.
But this wasn’t then, and Scott had every intention of ensuring that Mike was safe. -
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“Hey now, I wouldn’t get too close if I were you; wouldn’t want you to catch whatever the hell this is.”
Mike rose up from his place on the sofa and stretched his arms above his head.
“That’s a chance that I’m willing to take. I think you’re worth it.”
Scott smirked and rolled his eyes at Mike’s earnest enthusiasm. How much further could this guy burrow himself into Scott’s heart? It was a bud that bloomed throughout his entire core from the brush of fingertips on his skin; the way the sun felt warmer on their afternoon excursions. Or maybe Mike just carried within him a piece of the sun, himself, and that followed Scott wherever he went.Series
- Part 5 of Somewhere Down That Road
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“So, tell me about this Helen,” Mike said. “Why’s she so important?”
“She was thought to be the most beautiful woman in the world. An entire war was waged over her and countless men died in her honor.”
Mike snorted humorlessly and rolled his eyes. It wasn’t at all a metaphor for the life he’d lived up to that point, but moreover, he was hardly even remotely as attractive as someone worth dying for.
“No one has ever fought for me in my whole life, Scott.” Scott turned to face Mike. He couldn’t blame him, honestly, for thinking so poorly of himself after everything he’d been through. He’d gone to great lengths to ensure that Mike was given his dues for all that Scott had done to him; all the atonement that was owed, but it wasn’t enough to adequately encapsulate the feeling for Mike that’d been growing in his heart. A small, helpless thing that he watered daily.Series
- Part 4 of Somewhere Down That Road
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Mike’s presence was comforting in their home of wayward souls back then. Whether it were the addicts coming down from a bad trip or people whirling into hysterics over breakups and betrayals, he was always there to hear them out and assuage their doubts in his own unique sort of way. The amount of times Scott had caught someone wrapped up in the disarming warmth of Mike’s arms during a breakdown were innumerable. Mike spoke not a single word as they wept, but then again, he didn’t have to.
Series
- Part 3 of Somewhere Down That Road
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Scott motioned for Mike to look inside his expansive closet that contained everything from posh dress shirts and slacks to more casual denim and t-shirts for lounging in. He spotted some flannel sleep shorts folded neatly atop a small chest of drawers behind Scott’s other belongings and reached for them before sifting through the overwhelming array of hung apparel. Scott turned away and made for the bed, deciding to properly arrange his pillows and straighten the duvet while Mike browsed.
Mike finally settled on an old grey tee that looked like it hadn’t seen use for eons. Perfect. Upon closer inspection, he saw a flash of leather in the very back of Scott’s closet. Mike looked over his shoulder to Scott, who was still busily readying the bed, and then back at his discovery. It was the same jacket that Scott wore during his days as a drifter; weather-worn, well-loved and equal parts distressed from use. It had seen so much during its lifetime; laughter and tears alike, and held so many memories of a time that Scott had been desperately trying to escape until now. Mike allowed himself the chance to run his fingers along the arm of it and he suddenly felt like crying. Again. Of course.Series
- Part 2 of Somewhere Down That Road
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Scott took the initiative in stoking a fire for them to ward off the chill of the night and prayed not to trace the same recursive loops he had been taking with Mike. Mike was a delicate thing, he knew; fragile like glass at the best of times and cut doubly sharp at the worst, much to Scott’s chagrin. Then again, maybe Mike always had been his weakness. This venture was proving to be one of those times and they’d been here before—when Mike was pleading for some semblance of security and ready to ravenously devour any crumb of affection Scott would pass his way. That’s just the way Mike was: surviving on scraps of love that he’d ration for days.
Series
- Part 1 of Somewhere Down That Road