#trigun has been such a pleasant read :D

[torgawl]

i'm actually obsessed with this line from chapter 6 of trigun maximum. this might be my favourite scene so far!!!

bonus cool vash panel from the same scene because it's so *chef's kiss*:

[wolveswithhats]

writing wip game

Rules: Post the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Send me an ask with the title that most intrigues you or interests you and I’ll post a little snippet of it or tell you something about it! 

The titles weren’t interesting so I vainly just posted some excerpts from a grab bag of more recent stuff. If I did everything it’d honestly probably go on for pages. I have a lot of unfinished stuff (pretty much...exclusively unfinished stuff dfjkdjfkg). Like a decade’s worth.

Tagged by @ackbang​. TY TY, MY DUDE. If you see this and you’re a writer, consider yourself tagged. Like for real. Only not tagging because I can’t remember who writes fanfic and who doesn’t.

Looooooong post below.

ling ling the goblin king (ling + lan fan, fma)

"lan fan did it," the prince says, and for a moment she feels a flare of anger and betrayal over his deception. 'it wasn't me, i didn't do this. i didn't kill anyone.' but the prince is bending at the waist, low enough that that his tail of hair brushes the dirt, and she realizes his lie is for her benefit. "thank you, m'lady. i owe you my life."

her mouth feels dry, face hot from exertion and the burning gaze of her older peers. "d-don't do that," she stutters, and she's not sure if she's referring to the lie or the bow.

"you dare give me orders?" but there's no heat in his voice, eyes crinkling with humor as he rises to his full height. she has no idea how he can look so amused with a hole in his shoulder, covered in the blood of a man he just killed. he grins lopsided, teeth crooked and painted red. the sight is altogether ghoulish.

limb choppy choppy (lan fan + greed + ling, fma, part of the revival au)

And Greed is stilling his struggles, catching his wandering hand in his own, running comforting circles with his thumb over Ling's blood-smeared cheek. “Hey, you little pissant, this is nothing, piddly kids table shit. Remember that time that one Central soldier tried to gut us? Right down the middle, like splitting a sausage. Goddamn crimson tide. I thought we'd never get the blood out of that coat. Now that was an injury.”

“T-they took my arm.”

“Yeah, and who needs one of those anyway? Gonna get you all sorted, get you one of those shiny metal ones, like your girl Lan Fan here. Guess the adjustment period takes a bit, a year or three, but bet we could expedite the process with proper motivation. I'm thinking sandwiches.”

He laughs, or something approaching as much, a soggy intake of air. She's struck with an unexpected wave of jealousy, that it's Greed that's offering reassurance and intimate personal jokes. A former homunculus, a former demon, a watery imitation of a man. Creature comforts from the creature. It should be me, she thinks, though she has nothing to offer beyond promises of protection, and even those feel like falsehoods after all that has happened here. Comforting platitudes are beyond her. What could I ever say to make this better?

lets get lit fam (greedling + ed, fma)

wobbly-legged, too uncoordinated to walk. almost stumbles into a line of trash cans at the mouth of the alley, but ed hooks his elbow and steers him away. "what the hell were you thinking? we're supposed to be keeping a low profile."

it's not an accusation he's fully equipped to grapple, not when he's still so bleary from sleep—and some other pleasant, dizzying sensation he thinks might be inebriation. he's never woken up drunk before. he's never been drunk before period. "what'd i do?"

"not you, ling. you would have gone straight for the food menu, not the liquor list. i'm talking to the dipshit you share a mental occupancy with. greed, what the hell?"

"was just a few drinks," ling slurs, but it's not his words, or his voice, and wow he's never been so aware of his own tongue before.

solid citizen (ling + greed, fma)

"geez, kid, you're certainly in a mood." so he was reading his thoughts, just fantastic. he look he gives him is withering, but greed pats his shoulder, almost condescendingly, pitying for sure.

"you're plenty fine, kid. i'll give you the ears, but you're top shelf in the looks department otherwise. if you were ugly, i'd tell you straight up. i don't lie. this here," he points to his own face. "is ugly. nothing like my old human face."

it's a bated response, he knows, and he doesn't really feel like playing, but greed did make a passing effort to make him feel better. "human face?"

he beams, dreamily, which is an impressively soft expression to pull off a mouthful of razors, and ling is suddenly reminded of the mythology of the man fawning over his own reflection. surely greed can't be that vain? "yeah i was a real stunner. fucking gorgeous." or maybe he could, apparently, what did ling know anyway.

wreckage (vincent, re-l, ergo proxy)

When she makes it back to the Rabbit, chest burning and damp with exertion, Vincent has already stripped Pino of her overalls and laid her across the table. Cooling fluids draining, frayed wiring spooling out of her gashed torso, sprawled like a tiny metal Tityos. Her left arm is snapped off and dangling at the elbow, her eyes glassy – glass, literal glass – staring at the ceiling. Broken doll parts. Just another disassembled AutoReiv, but this isn't like that at all, because Pino isn't just another AutoReiv. She's like Iggy--

It's almost too much for Re-l to take. Hand over her mouth, breathing sharp through her fingers in short repetitions. Tries to steel herself, to be calm and assertive, because one of them has to be, and Vincent-- Vincent was awkward and mousy and sensitive, Vincent who spilled his cereal and tripped over his own feet and housed an ancient being of unspeakable power in his lanky boy-frame. But his god-strength was of no use here, drowned under the weak, simpering, overpowering grief for something that was no more human than he was.

do NOT worry about meryl (vash + wolfwood + milly, trigun)

milly caught the hurt. naive, for sure, but shrewd. "oh, we'd never think that of you, mr. vash. it's just our job as representatives of the bernadelli insurance society to mitigate any and all damages from the humanoid typhoon, even the rumored ones."

wolfwood: "bernadelli employing a little insurance of their own, eh?"

milly nods. "if we had to pay out claims on every false report of mr. vash's wrongdoings, we'd go belly up in no time!"

caught up on the word 'wrongdoing', growls, "you make it sound like i'm doing any of this on purpose."

"it's just sensible. your name has a lot of weight, vash."

grumbles: "yeah, i'm aware."

"and that's why meryl was so insistent on following up on this one, even knowing it wasn't really you. so many people drag your name through the mud, and it just doesn't seem fair at all."

his name had long since been dragged, strangled and shot, left to rot under a flock of buzzards circling its carcass in the heat. There was no saving it. still, the intent was kind, if not bewildering. "you...were trying to protect my reputation?"

milly looks at him like he's insane for thinking otherwise. "well, yeah. we've come to think of you as a friend, mr. vash, and that's what friends do.”

baby scrub (locke + rachel, ff6)

offers his hand and a single word: "lock."

her faces scrunches distastefully at his uncouth greeting, but she's not sure what else she was expecting from a dirty street boy. "lock?"

"with an e," he adds, as if that clarifies anything.

"that can't be real. you just made that up."

"all names are made up," huffs locke-with-an-e, looking impatient with her slow uptake on this odd world of his. "and i never said it was real, but it's all you're going to get."

spike bday (spike + dawn, btvs)

“if I show you something, you need to promise not to say anything. not to the watcher, or your sister. not to anyone, right?”

even through her tears, she nods, curious. spike's always good for skirting just outside the limits of good taste.

“I'm serious. spool your intestines out your nose, string 'em up like christmas garland. I mean it.”

“colorful threats of bodily dismemberment, I get it.”

hands her a faded yellow tintype. a young man, twenty-five or thirty maybe, a riot of disheveled curls, glasses, frumpy suit. not an unattractive man, but a timid one, uncertainty written into the slanted bow of his shoulders. he had the weedy air of someone who spent a lot of time duct taped to flag poles, or whatever the victorian equivalent would be. did it count as a twirly if you were dunked into a chamber pot?

a rebellious counterpoint in wrinkled tweed to the hard, starched lines of victorian decorum – interesting, but not very relevant. and a little disappointing, if she was being totally honest. spike's anecdotes usually had more flash and gore. “I don't get it.”

he's exasperated, fingers twitching like he's ready to snatch it away, and he tucks his hands under his arms in an awkward self hug. she takes in the hard set of his jaw and the...flush of his cheeks? god, she didn't even know vampires could blush. it had to take some serious breaking of undead physiology to ping that level of embarrassment, and something beyond that even to flap the unflappable spike. he hisses impatiently. “would you just—look at the face.”

and she does, tilting the little photo to and fro in the dim of the crypt. unassuming man-hermione with hair that cannot be tamed. sharp cheekbones and dark heavy brows under the rims of his glasses and suddenly she sees it—him—the angular planes of his face coming into sharp relief, like a camera finding its focus. “oh. oh my god! this is you. holy crap, spike. you look....”

“normal,” he finishes for her, and something in her stomach swoops and clenches, stones in a pond. “mundane.”

“i was going to say like a megawatt dorklord, but we can use your word instead.” she wipes her nose on the back of her hand. he snorts, amused and embarrassed.  

“i was a poet.”

she tried to envision anything beyond smutty limericks carved onto the wall of a bathroom stall.

“were you ever published?”

“i was a shitty poet,” he amends, grimacing.

boston au (spike + dawn, btvs)

bodily kicking a dumpster, sending it careening into the street with a rusty scream of metal. a hydrant follows suit, ripped from the sidewalk. caps off his tantrum with a boot to the side of Angel's GTX, but even the size-10 crater marring the passenger door of the angelmobile did little to ease his frustration.

“better?” dawn asks, when he drops bodily into the driver's seat with an aching sigh, anger dissipating. she looks so tiny and forlorn, knees drawn to her chest, picking at a cigarette burn in the upholstery. two years ago she'd have been a ripe treat, poor little lost lamb. now the idea twists his gut, her sorrow palpable, proprietary, under his skin and in his veins.

“no,” he grunts, staring out impassively at the aftermath of his outburst. water spurting from the sidewalk, skip spilling out into the road. half a dozen cars along the block chirping in a chorus of wailing alarms. and angel in the foyer, something vaguely resembling pity etched across his massive cavebrow. fucking wanker.

...

“we go back to sunnydale then. try again. badger the scoobies until they agree to help. we'll figure this out.”

“i don't want to.” quietly. barely a whisper.

“to figure it out?”

“to go back.”

“dawn...”

“there's nothing there. they're not going to help because i'm nothing. it's an ongoing memorial to my own non-existence. can we not go back? can we just keep driving?”

“where?”

“I don't care. away.”

thinks about leaving sunnydale. thinks about what he's leaving behind. shitty memories, regrets, lost love. he has a small collection of personal effects; records, first edition books, family heirlooms that cannot be replaced, a hundred years of mementos of his whirlwind romance with dru. wonders if he can ring up clem, ask him to send a care package once they get to wherever they're going. looks at dawn in her clearance-rack pajamas, realizes she has lost everything. she has no belongings, no family, no remnants left as evidence she even had a family. nothing but him and her, here, in this moment.

it's just stuff. it's surprisingly easy to let go.

he drives.

taco hell  (spike + dawn, btvs, part of the boston / unravel au)

Right where her window was supposed to be, a swirling doorway of light ringed in licking green flame, spilling out into....a fast food restaurant?

"I think it's Taco Bell," Dawn said, pinching a tissue to her--aw hell--bleeding finger. He took inventory of the spell books around her, the scrying bowl, and the ashy pentagram burnt into 70s shag weave of her bedroom carpet. So much for their security deposit.

"You opened a hell dimension to Taco Bell?"

She craned her head to squint at the pimply teenager manning the register, oblivious to his cross-dimension spectators. "I think it's just a regular Taco Bell. I don't see any dragons or shrimp people or anything."

"Not all alternate universes have shrimp people."

"I know that. You know, it actually looks like the one downtown, across from the KFC? On Kellner? Unless the Kellner Street Taco Bell is a Taco Hell. I've been reading up about liminal spaces, where the fabric between realities is weakened. Maybe it's a hot spot, and all the employees are actually like, octopus centaurs. How would we know? Not like I'm going to crawl over the counter to check, you know?"

"Well, now's your chance to ask Squiddly Diddly here what he's got going on downstairs." Slack-jawed employee finally cottoned on to the door to another universe in the restaurant lobby. Dawn awkwardly waves. Poc Ock waves back, bewildered, before the portal collapses in on itself in a burst of white light.

"It stopped bleeding." she holds up her finger.

-- 

(I don’t think anyone would, but as a precaution: please don’t reblog these to the Herald. They’re sloppy and incomplete and mixed in with a bunch of other fandoms so it’d just be really weird. THANK)

[twsted-princess]

Dreams Really Do Come True

(This a redo of my old one that I’m really proud of and I want to give it some love)

Another Princess of Hearts fanfic! Based off the wonderful post done by my dear friend @asa-de-ouro.

It was supposed to be another Saturday morning. I mean, it started normally. I woke up, brushed my teeth, checked my notifications on phone, went to my kitchen to make some tea. No one else besides my sister is up, just another day. That’s when it changed. As I went to the study my eyes focused on a oddly placed red button by the front door. There was something written by the button “Those whom you ship yourself with become real and are happy to see you , This includes those whom you shipped yourself with in the past”. Reading the note, my heart swelled at the thought, the idea of those who I adore with all of the heart being here in the world of reality, being with me and loving me unconditionally. My hand was hovering over the button, but my mind was racing. Maybe this is just some prank bro put out for. “But if that’s true, how does he know that I have fictional crushes? This could only be a sick joke.” My thoughts fought with each-other for a while until I finally decided. “If this is really a joke, let’s put to the test” I say to myself as I press the button.

Nothing happen….figures. I shouldn’t have gotten my hopes, it was my own wishful thinking. Disappointed with myself, I’m about to sit down at the seats in the kitchen when the doorbell ring. “It’s probably the mailman or something”, raising to get it, the teapot warming up the water is the background noise. I peek through the glass on the door connecting the porch to the outside, there’s what I can assume a head of grey hair and a brilliant pair of teal eyes. “No, that can’t be….” my body wanting to open the door while my brain tried to process the events. I opened the door and standing only a few steps away is Philip. His eyes met mine and he gave me a smile seeing only love and accomplishment, like I’m an oasis made by the gods. He kneels before me, placing a closed hand against his heart, I’m taken back and from his mouth “It’s been too long my princess” comes out.

 “Is this really happening?” is all I’m thinking as he rises. We stand there for some time until he coughs, “So can I come it?” he speaks, his smile not leaving. Snapping at the trace, blushing at the fact that I standing there like a idiot “O-Of course.” comes out. I lead him to the living room where he sits in on the sofa. There’s an awkward silence on my part when the teapot signals it’s ready, “Uh…D-Do you want something to eat, or drink, or something?” I say nervous as all hell. “Not really.” he replies, his eyes not leaving mine for a second “W-Well, If you don’t mind I-I’m going to make some tea”. Speed-walking to the kitchen my mind is racing for answers “This has to be a joke. Yeah, that’s right. He’s just a professional cosplayer that paid to do this. He would never actually fall in love. I’m not pretty, or smart or anything worth loving. I’m annoying and stupid and AGH!”. As I’m pouring the tea and loathing myself for falling for the prank that my brother is probably laughing his ass over, I noticed that Philip is staring at something on the wall. Following his line of sight my eyes are now noticing that there’s a clock that was never there before. It’s counting down the time, 133:55, that’s weird. He sees that I’m focused on the clock when he chuckles, again snapping me out of my foolishness. “Don’t worry about the clock, I’m just waiting for the rest of the gang to show up” he turns to look me still in that adoring stare. “Wait! There’s more comin-” I can’t get the rest of the words out when the doorbell rings agains. “This is a dream” I say repeatedly to myself as I head to the door, opening it, my eyes laid more figures that I know more then anything. Kiyomasa Senji (Deadman Wonderland), Vash (Trigun), S-Sha (Hyperdimension Neptunia), Theodore (Persona 3) and tower above them was Blue Diamond (Steven Universe).

 My brain is almost ready to explode when Philip comes up behind me, “Hey, guys! Nice to meet you finally!”. Vash two-finger salutes him, Blue Diamond waves while the others nod. They see me and they all smile with the same simile of love. “Well, don’t just stand there! Come on it, there’s tea if anyone wants some.” He said heading inside. They follow, passing by me, Diamond transforming herself into a smaller but still tall enough height. “It’s good to finally meet you” Senji spoke while passing me patting my head. The once fictional characters entering my house while I stand still trying to make out if this is real or fantasy. “I have to be dreaming, there’s literally no way this is actually happening...” going back inside I see that everyone has settled in and are now chatting. Gaining some confidence I clear my throat “Can anyone please explain to me what’s going on here?” everyone heads turn to face me “Am I just the willing participant in a elaborate joke?”. The questions hang in the air for a bit, “You can admit it, I know you’re doing this just to get a laugh…I don’t mind. You’re all just cosplaying those characters to get a reaction out of me about how stupid I am, aren’t you?” I added.“What are you talking about? We’re here cause you called us, isn’t that right?” Satan spoke up. “But, that’s impossible...you guys aren’t real.” I tried to explain as S-Sha walked up to me taking the hold on my hand. “We’re here to be with you, it’s that simple.” her voice was true and sounded genuine. She guided my hand to her sliver hair allowing me to feel. It’s was so soft, and I couldn’t feel and wig cap underneath. Again the doorbell rang.

“I’ll go get it.” Senji said as he rose from the seat. S-Sha sat me down and Blue Diamond got me my tea that I ignored. I took notice on the strange clock again it now reading 100:09. The door swung open and another bunch of the people I love walked into the living room. This time a group of ten. Their faces all too familiar to me as everyone greeted each other. The group would then come over to me, with hellos and how much they missed me like I’m a loved one they haven’t seen in a long time. My heart is beating so fast and I felt like I was going to pass out from all the attention. “Maybe this isn’t a dream after all.” I ponder the thought as I get up to make the new guests more comfortable. Making some tea and coffee, I offer the refreshments to them. Some take the offer while some recline. There’s chatter with laughter as stories are being told along with some lighthearted arguing, I stand against the wall enjoying the scene. Another ring from the door, rushing to get it, the clock changes to read 100:00. The next group of ten enters as I’m now greeted with hugs, head pats, even kisses on the hand and/or cheek. Some of them even brought gifts of flowers and even a small crown to me. The living room and kitchen are almost full so I direct the party to the garden outback the conversations continued outside. Soon enough, my parents and my older brother walk downstairs to witness the party at hand. All three of them are stumped speechless at the size of the group. “Oh! Morning you guys! I’ll explain everything later!” My simile is now slightly hurting but I couldn’t care less. This is a dream come true and I don’t want to wake up. My twin sister has now joined the party, having almost the amount of excitement as me. My parents don’t want to question the fact that we’re having the time of lives so my dad started to breakfest while my mom talks to guests. I pulled my brother to the side “Okay, so was this your plan for a joke or something?” I asked in all seriousness. “No! I have literally have no idea what’s going on!’ he said in total honestness.  My eyes was against fall in the clock as another group invites themselves in. The time reads 80:15, the dots connect in my head. It’s counting down every single character I’ve had a crush on. I giggle at my own forgetfulness as i rejoins the party.

Everything is going smoothly as more of the people I love come through the door. Everyone is having a grand time. My parents are getting along with the guest, my sister looks like she’s going pass out from seeing fictional characters in real life while my brother is confused as fuck but is going along with her. The talking is pleasant and the food is almost done. I’ve talked to the loves of my life. Seeing them so happy and even loosen up a bit fills my heart with joy. I smile at the crowd, not wanting this moment to end. There’s a knock at the door “Coming!” I shout as my feet rush to the door. On my way to the door I see that wonderful clock counting down. 7, 6, 5… my steps matched the timing as my hand grip the knob 4, 3, 2… I open to the door and stare at Roronoa Zoro, my very first fictional crush. “It’s been forever, Melanie” are the only words he gets out as I leap into his arms. Hugging him with every fiber in my body I feel tears beginning to fell. He hugs back as the group see that the final guest is here at last. “This really isn’t a dream, is it?” I asked looking up at his face, our eyes locking. “Not at all” a warm grin spread across his lips. It’s just like the stories, dreams really do come true.