intro of darkness

rustedrobonerd  asked:

hiya~ just passing by and thinking about reaper76 (no reader insert) and their pretended marriage au 😏 whatcha' thinking 'bout that love? p.s. just wanted to tell you that your writing always bring smile on my face, the way you have with words captivated me from your first posts and i don't think i will ever forget your style (just really love your humour the jokes in it work every time) (although i find your blog only when you started writing overwatch fics i wish i found you sooner)

(my jokes work, thank god. You have no idea how long I’ve been chewing on that one, waiting for someone to tell me if my attempts at humour land. This really made my day <3

Also Fake Marriage, yes pleas.
Because just, hnnngh. Gabe more or less reluctantly teaming up with Overwatch after it turns out he’s been set up/lots of misunderstandings/shenanigans. But he and Jack have been drifting apart for so long and even though both technically know they’ve been played out against each other, knowing it and acting accordingly are two very different things. 
They fight, they argue, they can’t stand being in the same room and it’s worse because both remember they used to be inseparable.

So, shit happens and they have to pretend to love each other. They have to dig deep under all the baggage to find that affection they used to hold for each other, and what’s scary is that it’s easy.
The first morning Gabriel shovels six spoon fulls of sugar into his coffee cup, hesitates, then just upends the whole damn sugar bowl into his coffee, Jack doesn’t have a problem hugging him from behind and kissing him good morning.
And when Jack loses horribly at some video game because he’s too busy admiring the scenery (”look at those trees, Gabe, they’re all handcrafted. Every one of them. Look at the trees.” “Will you please look at the giant venomous spider instead?”) Gabriel laughs like he hasn’t in ages.

I will go down with that trope tbh, and because I have no restraint, I wrote just under 2k words which may or may not be the beginning of a multichapter fic I’ll be putting on AO3.

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What I know about Tokyo Ghoul from what I've seen in my dash

- Kaneki Saaaaaaan
-Lil bean Hide didn’t deserve to die
-Some white haired chick with red crossed bobbypins
-French dude with no chill
-yum yum people
-Emo kids get free contact lenses to look evil
-Suffer suffer suffer
-Oshiete?

New Home

“W…Where…”

“Where are we?”

The alter felt his arms trembling, blood burning his veins as he eased to a crawl, eye twitching as he fought to see, only seeing darkness.

“Dark… can you hear me?” the green haired ego licked his cracked lips, voice a hoarse croak of desperation. He felt blood dripping from his lips, but he didn’t care. He needed to see Dark.

The other ego was sprawled a few feet away in the inky universe like blackness they were in. Anti hesitated, his stomach clenching in the sudden rush of fear and panic that rushed over him, the floor just black, no walls, just endless black. He felt like he was going to fall.

What was happening?

“Dark-” he breathed, his eyes slowing to a close, squeezing tight. He could make it. For Dark.

Crawling at a snail’s pace, the alter felt his throat tight and dry, desperate to see and go back to reality.

When his hand bumped leather, his breath returned, a heavy sigh of relief leaving him. He shot his eyes open and focused on sitting up the stirring brunette. “Dark, please, I don’t know where we are.”

After coughing and gripping the irishman’s jeans with a hand to steady himself, the other male cracked his eyes open, both burning to the brim with tears.

“Wh…er.e… A..nt..i…?” he wheezed, trying to choke out some words. His eyes searched around. There was nothing…

“Where are we?”



Surprise! This was a request for a new account: @antisepticeye-and-darkiplier

as a quick intro for their new page! Don’t worry, they don’t bite. 


Much.


So they’re very hesitant and worried about being new to the community, but hey it’s okay! We can show ‘em some love right? Also, I might get back into writing with a plot like this. 

So go give them a follow!! (Yes, they’re also a tickle account!)

Dark and Anti series anyone??

The Songbirds are Singing

This was written for @txf-fic-chicks Post Ep Challenge.  No beta, just written and posted.  It’s post “Paperclip.”

Author: piecesofscully
Rating: teen
Spoilers: Season 3′s “Paperclip”



Her jacket falls to the chair with a muted thump, followed by the discarding of her purse and shoes.  The yellowed beams of street lamps stream through her slitted blinds, offering her just enough of a glow for her to see as she pads across her living room floor to the stereo.  The mixed tape Missy had made her years ago still sits rewound in the cassette player from her last impromptu visit, having been played and rewound multiple times over a few bottles of wine and stories full of laughs.  


“Ah, remember Jodi from down the street?” Missy had asked.  “The one with the curly brown hair and gap in her teeth?”

“How could I forget?” Dana had said between sips of merlot.  “Her boobs stole my boyfriend that summer.”

Melissa had gasped.  “Oh my god, that’s right!  Henry!  He went around for weeks afterwards bragging about how she let him put his hand up her shirt!”

“I should have known…”

“Maybe if you would have stuffed your-”

“I was fourteen!” Dana had said with a cough, nearly choking on her wine.  

“So much drama over a B cup,” she’d said as she laughed.  “You cried for weeks.”

“I’m going to need more wine.”



Her index finger slides along the buttons until she feels the indentations for the Play button, then presses it down.  Piano begins to filter through the speakers, the light-hearted intro contrasting the sudden darkness she feels bleeding into her apartment.  She gingerly lowers herself onto her couch, and mindlessly flicks on the lamp that sits nearby.  


For you, there’ll be no more crying.

For you, the sun will be shining.

And I feel that when I’m with you,

It’s alright, I know it’s right.


“Sometimes I feel like we should have been twins,” Melissa had said.

Dana’s eyebrow raised, and she had laughed.

“No, seriously.  Seriously, Dana, stop laughing and hear me out!  You and I, it’s like we’re the same person.”

Tears had begun to trail down Dana’s face as she laughed harder.  

“Dammit, Dana, I know we’re different, but sisters have a special bond, you know,” Melissa had said, her voice echoing into the nearly empty glass of wine.

“Well, yeah,” Dana had replied, wiping her eyes.  “We grew up together.”

“No, I mean, our souls are connected, intertwined, tethered together for eternity. Wherever you are, Dana, I’m there, too.”



From the drawer of the side table, she pulls out what’s left of a short stick of incense and the small glass holder Melissa had given her as a birthday gift years before.  It feels smooth and lightweight between her fingers, it’s emerald color glimmering under the lamp.  With the light of a match and the quick forced rush of her breath, the tip of the incense begins to smolder.  A thin line of smoke twirls from the end gracefully, the way Melissa used spin in the center of the kitchen while pretending to be a ballerina.  

The warm musky scent of patchouli surrounds her, it’s smell tweaking the sides of her mouth into a small smile. It’s sweet undertones remind her of summer evenings from long ago, of two teenage girls listening to Fleetwood Mac’s Tusk album on repeat.   It reminds her of a time when she was Dana, just Dana.  

And for a moment it feels as if Melissa is sitting right there next to her, cuddled into the far corner of the couch with her legs folded underneath her.  


To you, I’ll give the world.

To you, I’ll never be cold.

‘Cause I feel that when I’m with you,

It’s alright, I know it’s right.


Melissa would roll her eyes dramatically, and inform her that patchouli was for depression, it’s properties used to help ease you from the murky depths of the prison of your own inner mind.  

“Feel the hurt and then let it go, Dana,” she would say.  “Don’t hold onto it, that’s toxic.  Death, no matter how sudden, isn’t an ending.”

“I know, Missy,” Dana whispers into her empty apartment as she curls herself into the opposite corner of her couch.

“Energy doesn’t vanish or die, it transfers,” she would say.  “You of all people should know that, Miss Bachelors Degree in Physics.  Our souls are energy; energy that’s just waiting for the right moment to transfer and bring a new form of beauty into the world.”


And the songbirds are singing, like they know the score.

And I love you, I love you, I love you, like never before.

And I wish you all the love in the world.

But most of all, I wish it from myself.


And, when alive, she had been that very beauty in the world.  Her life was lived loudly, and without regrets or apologies.  She was as vibrant as the red roses that bloomed in spring, the air about her had been exuberant and invigorating.  

Never a woman to be eclipsed into a shadow, her emanation too stunningly bright and commanding of attention, her energy affecting the incoming and retreating tides of Dana’s life from a distance.  Now, even in death, her rich presence still lingers.  

Hot tears sting Dana’s eyes.  “I don’t…” she whispers hoarsely, not trusting her voice to remain strong.  “I don’t know how to do this alone, Missy.”

Her sister would smile, her eyes shaded with a thin veil of sadness, and then grasp her hand.  “You do,” she would say, her voice encouraging. “You’re not alone, Dana.”

A sob that has been gradually building and churning in the highest part of her belly finally escapes Dana’s lips as she buries her face in her hands.


And the songbirds keep singing, like they know the score

And I love you, I love you, I love you

Like never before, like never before, like never before.


The last few chords of the song are interrupted by the muffled shrill of her cell phone, and Dana immediately wipes her eyes and sniffles sharply, composing herself as if the caller has just walked through the door and caught her in a vulnerable moment.   She sighs heavily as the ringing persists, and shakes her head briskly, then heaves herself off of the couch, stops the tape, and crosses towards her summoning.  

“Scully,” she answers curtly.

“Hey, did I wake you?”

“Mulder?”  Her brows furrow.

“The one and only,” he quips.  “Well, really there are actually plenty of Mulder’s-”

“I wasn’t sleeping,” she answers with a sigh.

He pauses, waiting for her to continue.  When she doesn’t, he asks, “How are you?”

“I’m fine,” she answers quickly, then eases herself back down to the couch.  

“Right,” he says, and she can practically see him pursing his lips.  “Of course.”  

She pulls the blanket from the back of the couch and lets it tumble into a heap across her body, like the comfortable silence that has fallen between them.  If she strains she can hear the slow rhythm of his breathing, and she finds herself slowing her own, matching his relaxed pace.

Inhale, exhale.  Inhale, exhale.  She closes her eyes.  

“Hey, Scully.”  His voice penetrates the quiet, it’s warmth and tenderness slowly mending the frayed edges of her heart with each syllable.  She hums in response.

“Did I ever tell you the story of Kenneth Arnold?”

Her swollen eyes ache as her smile reaches her eyes.  “About how he saw nine high-speed flying saucers near Mount Rainier?”

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

She pulls the blanket to her chin, settling in deeper into the cushions of the couch.  “Tell me again, Mulder.”

2

Surprise it’s PERFECTJIN!!

Analysis of Televoid’s Oddities (Episodes 0-4)

Episode 0 - Beat The Clock (January 27, 2016)

Description :: The description for this episode reads, “[This is a pilot for a new show where I dig up old television shows, weird VHS stuff, etc. to talk about. I love watching this stuff anyway, and it’d be fun to share more of what I find with you guys! Please let me know how you like it.] Ian flips the channel to an old episode of Beat the Clock.” Notice the brackets and the use of first person. This is presumably the real Ian, the one who is uploading the videos to his channel. However, it switches to third person for the actual description of the video. THIS IS THE NORM FOR BRUTALMOOSE VIDEOS, so the reason I bring this up is because this is the only Televoid episode with a normal description like this. All the other descriptions are written in second person - “you.” I don’t know what it means, but it is interesting to note.

3:00 - 3:30 :: Ian attempts to play along with the game show by solving a word puzzle. When he reveals his answer, it shows up as, “This joke is brought to you by Sylvania.” Although it may seem like this is a weak joke done to mock the show’s constant endorsing of Sylvania, Ian acts surprised and confused when he sees what’s written, even claiming that it wasn’t what he meant to write.

16:50 - End :: Ian says we, the watchers, don’t have to leave. He suggests we stick around to watch something else with him. As he flips through the channels to find another show, he finds only static instead. He grows visibly discouraged before everything abruptly goes to black and we are left in silence for nearly five seconds before the episode officially ends.

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