haenotic
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“I’ll get somewhere.” Knives says, defiant. The borrowed cloak draped over his shoulders is made of well-worn fabric, embossed with the symbol of the Seven Cities and fraying at the edges from whipping in the wind. It’s itchy against his skin – Knives has never itched before. “No matter how long it takes. I’ve gotten there before, I can do it again.”
“Was it worth yer time?”
It strikes Millions Knives as intensely pathetic, that he is debating philosophy with a witless cowboy.
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Pancakes were easy to make. Pancakes were an old favorite, something that was just similar enough in ingredient list (flour; sugar; eggs; milk) to donuts that it was Vash’s God-given right to learn how to make ‘em. No leavening agent made them a faster throw-together dessert, but that didn’t mean they didn’t require patience and a skilled hand. One could easily fuck up pancakes as easily as one could, say, blow a giant hole in the moon. He’d made many-a burnt circle of ash in his time as a sometimes-useless baker and most of those weren’t even his fault. You try making a perfect pancake while in an active shootout. You try attending to that sensitive little bubble of dough while dodging your own customers rallying for your head on a sixty-billion double-dollar pike. Vash might’ve been a free man, now, but he was not taking any chances with something being made for someone as special as Milly Thompson.
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“All ready,” she says once she’s back in the bedroom. Wolfwood’s still petulantly face-down on the mattress. Taking Milly’s hand, Meryl says over her shoulder to him, “We’ll be downstairs, Nick. You can come join us for breakfast once you finish.”
Nick flashes her a half-hearted thumbs-up that quickly rotates into a full-hearted flash of his middle finger.
Milly follows after her without comment. But Meryl knows from her posture, and the way that she’s hovering right over Meryl’s shoulder as they descend the stairs, that she’s got something serious to say. Something she wants some time to put into the right words. An evaluation; a Milly-insight. Something that Meryl would never, ever dismiss. Meryl allows her to stew in her thoughts without feeling the need to prompt her—and Milly stews for a while, still thinking by the time Meryl sits them both down on the couch with mugs of warm tea in their hands and a pot of broth for Nick simmering on the stove.
“Honey?” Meryl finally asks, joining their hands again.
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Elendira jabs the nail she’s spinning into the desk — hardwood, fancy, expensive — and it makes Legato’s corpse’s card tower tremble. Legato continues to glare at her through the slits of his eyelids. Circling the desk, she comes to a stop by his side and leaves a sticky red handprint on the chair next to his head as she leans into his line of sight.
“Having fun?” she asks sweetly.
“No,” Legato replies. “I’m practicing.”
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dyeing for company by haenotic for auroralightss
Fandoms: Trigun (Anime & Manga 1995-2008)
25 Mar 2025
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The first person who’d started the trend was actually Miss Luida herself. When Meryl and Milly were interviewing her about the ongoing Noman recovery efforts, the topic of the Humanoid Typhoon had come up—and as smoothly as any other slimy, skilled politician constantly bathing in the public’s critical eye, Luida had hummed thoughtfully to herself, before lying straight through her teeth.
“Oh, Vash the Stampede?” Luida had said, never missing a beat. “Ahh. Yes. After everything, I heard he went bald from the stress. When do you suppose they’ll update his bounty poster?”
—And then she’d winked when Milly’s giggles made the camera move off of her face, and Meryl had smiled like she’d just found a nugget of pure gold in a pile of tomas shit.
Recent series
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Guidelines for Decomposition: According to a Walking Corpse by haenotic
Fandom: 魔道祖师 - 墨香铜臭 | Módào Zǔshī - Mòxiāng Tóngxiù
10 Mar 2020
- Words:
- 36,518
- Works:
- 2
- Bookmarks:
- 39
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Do It All Again Next Week, an Embryonic Love by littlebirby
Fandoms: Trigun (Anime & Manga 1995-2008)
22 Aug 2023
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He does eventually stop the car, in the parking lot behind a brick building painted red and black. It stands out hard between the hip brewery on one side and the mom and pop craft store on the other. There goes pretending like he couldn’t find the place.
(Tattoo/Bakery AU)
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Living is an unrelenting, exhausting thing. Defeat weighs like a blanket over already heavy shoulders and the distractions of the mundane do not ease the weight of sins, but there is peace in welcomed company and the promise of understanding brings respite in such a wary heart.
This will not heal him, no, but perhaps it's alright to let himself be happy, even if just for a moment.
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aka: a touch starved knives not only gets to have his hand held but also gets to live out his fantasy of kissing a cowboy, not realizing he has in fact been falling in love with said cowboy for a while now. but also he’s never kissed before, oops -
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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.
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another fic where Livio adopts Knives like a stray cat, but...
"Knives spins some stupid fairytale about looking for Livio, specifically, because of Vash (they knew he wasn’t dead- ha! That’ll make those reporter chicks real happy when he gets a chance to tell ‘em) crying for Nico in his sleep. Razlo’s no liar, so he gives him his whole five minutes, half-listening because Livio’s running his proverbial mouth in the background about how Knives looks tired. Boo-fucking-hoo. He's not gonna trust anyone that easily, much less this guy."
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Bookmarked by haenotic
21 Mar 2025
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if u havent read NEA yet what tf are u doing with ur life
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“Raz wasn’t lyin’ when he said that everyone thought you’d died.” Livio leans against the fifty years out of style wallpaper and watches the storm beat sand against the windows. He doesn’t have to say that by “everyone” what he really means is “Vash”.
“Neither was I—lying that is. I hadn’t exactly planned to be standing here either.” Knives’ piercing gaze follows Livio’s outside. He leans against the counter in a manner closer to fatigue than relaxation. “It won’t matter for much longer, though…”
“You keep sayin’ that like you're certain. I’d have thought that if whatever happened between you and Vash in that last fight was gonna kill ya, it would have already.”
“It did kill me.”
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Livio, no longer fanged, and Razlo, no longer a punisher, stumble upon a not so abandoned ranch. There’s a skeleton of a barn out back, a corpse past the south fence, and a not so dead Millions Knives in front of them.
Bookmarked by haenotic
21 Mar 2025
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EVERYONE GO READ CoL RIGHT NOW!!!