Tal 👻 Too Tall Spaghetti Monster

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(CLOSE) Through gay monster fiction anything is possible, so jot that down He / They - 25+ 🏴󠁧󠁢󠁷󠁬󠁳󠁿 - Certified Wife Guy - Full Time Internet Pervert - Podcast Nerd & Trigun Fanatic Freaks please do interact actually

screenshot of a fic summary.
title - doing right by your ghost.
author - too many lemons.
summary - Two years is a long time to carry a gun that isn't his, the weight of how he's failing it's owner heavier with ever passing day. It's too much to look at directly in the warm light of day, but in the lonely half light of his lodgings late at night. Then there's no one around to see him running his hands over metal worn smooth by the touch of someone else's hands, or just how much he might let that affect him.

An exploration of Wolfwood's mental state between Stampede & Stargaze

the back of a teddy and a bowl of popcorn in front of a mostly black TV screen, subtitle reads "the planets have disappeared"

low effort sketch of an old box style TV with a cat clown on one side, and text reading "Jingles" on the other, with a slight static effect

three push notifications from various studio orange accounts all saying "TRIGUN STARGAZE NEW EPISODE SATURDAY..."

Quote snippet: Before long it builds until it's dragging him down like an anchor, until it's a struggle to keep pouring drinks without grimacing, feeling every step like he's being pulled off balance by a gun that's been a steady presence at his side longer than it's owner ever was at this point.

parcel label, reads Nicholas D Stampede Statue

27th December 2025 - Rescue Mission

Vash: I don't want anyone getting hurt though.

Wolfwood: Yeah, yeah.

Vash: I'm serious.

Wolfwood: Of course you are.

Vash: This is a rescue mission, no guns.

Wolfwood: You seriously expect me to go in there without even a side arm?

Vash: Well fine. You can bring the pistol. But only for emergencies. Not for the mission.

Wolfwood: In the kind of emergencies you cause Blondie just my pistol is not enough. But fine. Let's just get this over with.

Vash: It's going to go great.

Wolfwood: Blondie, nothing you've ever planned has gone great.

Vash: Hostiles sighted.

Wolfwood: Idiot, get back here, they'll see you.

Vash: Ah, Wolfwood, that hurt! You don't have to yank me so hard.

Wolfwood: You're going to blow our cover before we're even in the room. Remind me why I had to leave the Punisher but you're wearing that fucking coat.

Vash: It's not my fault your gun is taller than you are!

Wolfwood: Shh! And get down.

V: Uh, fine. Reckon you can get under that table without them seeing?

Wolfwood: Easy. After you Spikey.

Vash: Count to 20. Okay.

(Pause)

Wolfwood: Count to 20. Fucking hell, this is never going to work. Here goes nothing I guess.

Vash: (Whispering) Hey Wolfwood, fancy seeing you here.

Fineliner drawing of a cat in a jester outfit

[Group chat name changed by Warren: some losers (affectionate)]

NARRATOR: Fleet continues to stare at the ceiling, at the patch of damp that's starting to look suspiciously like a map of London. That is to say if someone had spilled an entire pot of poorly brewed tea over a map of London, and also said map had been drawn by someone who had never actually seen a map of London. Much like any run of the mill water stain found on the ceiling of a private detective agency really.