Probably. I Wouldn’t Be Surprised.

Ok people have been so nice about Last Words. I’m so happy. :)

A Letter to the Doctor

Pairing: Tentoo/Rose, Ten/Rose mentions

Rating: PG for very very mild angst

Dear Doctor,

That sounds so weird. I'm very used to hearing other people call you that, of course I am. People yell it at you, threaten you with it, insult you with it, thank you with it, laugh it out admiringly. It's just weird to say it myself.Well, this whole idea is weird, isn't it? Writing to you, I mean. I don't even really know that you're going to read this, just have the assurance of a madman and the tiniest little tear in the universe, like a crack in a wall, only big enough to send a small signal through. But we had to try, didn't we?I'm the one writing the letter because Dad thinks it would be pointless for him to do it, and Mum...well...let me explain.

They were stuck on Earth for five years, while the TARDIS was growing. It was helped along by everything Torchwood had. Dad won't even tell me what all was used. Even then, five years was impossibly fast. But it was enough time to get things started.Mum had trouble, at first, of course. For a long time, she says, she was so uncomfortable with it, with him. But he won her over. Little ways. He never acted very different, Mum says, a little moodier, a little darker, but all the same mannerisms, the same clothes (well, excepting of course the odd lazy day in jeans or sweats and a galaxy tshirt he appparently found and loved), the same smile. But he did do something a lot different.

He took her on dates. Very reserved things, picnics, beach walks, fancy dinners. Sometimes they just stayed in. Dad would play Mum music on the piano and the guitar, and sing with it, pretty Gallifreyan songs from his childhood, his favorites. He'd tell her stories he'd apparently planned to tell her before...you know. They'd talk all about where they'd go when the TARDIS was up and ready. And finally Mum just...accepted it. I think that's my favorite story.

So Dad tells it (and I do love when he does, what a storyteller my old dad is), he was meddling with some little bit of the TARDIS (which mysteriously has a broken chamelion circuit. Can you guess what the old girl looks like?) when she walked in and just hugged him from behind. And he just looked around and raised his eyebrows at her, all confused, and she asked "Can we go back to New Earth? The last time was a bit iffy, but..." And he knew, right then, that she was seeing him again. Really seeing just him and not that body he was in.

He did take her to New Earth, by the way. He proposed to her on the applegrass covered ridge, d'you remember that place?The ring's beautiful, a little blue band with a perfect (alright, almost) white diamond on top, cut over a nova pattern made of real stardust. Dad went all out on it, made it himself with help from our old girl. Mum still shows it to me everytime she tells the story.

The wedding was in a little church in London. There were some human things, Mum walked down the aisle and had the white dress and all, but the main part was a Time Lord ceremony. And only Gran, Gramps, and Tony were invited. That one's my second favorite story. They let me go watch it last month, from behind a door. Don't worry, no one saw me, no paradoxes. I cried.

I was born a year after they got the TARDIS working, as we were landing on Earth. Mum and Dad still call me Earth Girl all the time. That was eighteen years ago. I've grown up in the TARDIS, traveling, exploring. They took me to Barcelona for my last birthday, the planet not the city. And yes, we do keep track of birthdays, albeit a bit oddly. Mum's got the details, I just play along.I love every minute of this. I've even managed to keep in touch with a couple of kids on Earth, Rory, Amy, and Clara. Dad loves them, loves showing off around them. So do I, but don't tell him I said that. They've come with us once or twice. He keeps us away from too many life-or-death problems. Well, he tries...I asked Mum whether she had anything to say to you. She smiled and said she had one thing to say.

She's having a fantastic life with you, here.

Dad says that by the time you get this, you'll probably have regenerated once or twice. Are you ginger this time?

It's weird though, again, isn't it? I hope you still like how you look, and how you act, and that you still remember Mum and Dad. I hope you haven't worried too much about them, or missed her too badly. Who knows, maybe you'll see us at some point. It'd be fun to see how Dad reacts to what would have been future him.I guess the point I was trying to make was that we're happy here, all three of us (soon to be four!), and we hope that wherever you are, whatever's happened since, that you're still running. Because I think that if the Doctor ever stopped running, the stars would go out because they missed him so much. Keep going, Doctor. Have a fantastic life, for us.

All our love,

Donna Jackie (That's me, hello!)

Rose Tyler

The Doctor

PS: I have attempted to attach a picture of us on New Earth last week. I hope you like it, especially Dad's beard stubble and my hair. Blue tips on blonde, good, yeah? I'm thinking of going ginger next.

Ya girl got her WKM shirt in the mail today. Surprise! It’s my face. :)

(feat. my bed, my various posters, and my Markiplier Pjorts)

Who Killed Markiplier?

Alright so I’ve watched the video like five times now, and slowed it down to pick things apart. Here’s what I’ve been able to piece together so far.

First, let’s talk characters: (I’ll probably do some more in-depth posts about a couple of them later)

-The Colonel is the first person we meet, and it is our first meeting with him outside the front door, as he introduces himself to us. We learn from the Mayor that he doesn’t like Mark, but was apparently friends with him, and the Mayor as well, some time ago, but was possibly forgotten and abandoned by Mark when he got famous (as hinted at in his rant/theory). He’s an eccentric, but generally good man (according to the Mayor).

-The Butler is cordial and professional when we first meet him, and every time we see him except for in the wine cellar, when he falls apart because of the mess, and I assume primarily because of the stress of Mark’s death. He claims to know everything about the manor and about the other guests, but nothing about the murder itself.

-The Mayor, whose real name is apparently Damian, according to the Colonel, is an old friend of ours from University, and trusts us immensely, having appointed us to our new job as District Attorney. He’s also an old friend of Mark’s, having known him “since childhood”, and an old friend of the Colonel. He apparently knows the backstory between the Colonel and Mark, but doesn’t want to talk immediately. It seems as if his reaction to Mark’s death, one of shock, is the most natural.

-The Detective, whose name might have been mentioned by Mark in the security footage but I didn’t catch it, has had many partners before, but all have died tragically. He’s terrible at his job, trusting a butler’s opinion on a body, doing...things...to said body, and immediately hiring us on as his partner, with no prior training. But he was also apparently hired by Mark before the poker party to do a background check on the Chef and the Butler, whom he said were clean. It’s worth noting that while we see him talking to the Mayor in the first two minutes of the video, we’re not introduced to him until the murder is discovered.

-The Chef is an aggressive man, who threatens to kill us a couple of times, and who apparently runs a security system with his “little buddy”. It seems to me that he’s the easy, throw-away suspect because he’s so obviously aggressive in the first place. It is also interesting to me that he seems just as freaked out by the Detective’s multiple partner deaths as we are.

-Then there’s us, the new District Attorney, old friends with Mark and the Mayor, but we’ve never met the Colonel, which might mean we’re slightly out of touch with Mark. We’re also apparently very good at poker, and were wild in our Uni days.

And now, the victim: Markiplier, who’s risen to fame and fortune, and who believes that “Life is for the living,” so lives a lavish, carefree lifestyle in his enormous manor. We know that all of the guests are close, trusted friends of Mark’s, but that he’s had a rocky relationship with the Colonel, and that he doesn’t fully trust the Chef or the Butler.

Next, let’s talk about some moments that’re worth checking out in more detail:

-The montage of the night. Now looking at it slowed down, I’ve pieced together some of the events of the night. We started off playing a few rounds, drinking socially. As it got later, however, everyone (except the Butler and the Chef) gets very drunk, and the Butler even ends up joining in the games. We get drunker and drunker, as the Chef gets more annoyed with everyone’s outrageousness, from the Mayor doing a keg stand to the Colonel fighting with the Detective, to lots and lots of beer pong. The Butler refuses to drink from the Colonel’s flask, and as we all get more drunk, we get more aggressive and ridiculous, flipping off the Butler, the Colonel plays with a loaded gun (possibly playing Russian Roulette), and we end up fighting with, and losing to, the Detective. We’re found on the floor by the Mayor, and pass out in bed at 1:30am, when the murder is occuring. Some of my key questions about these events: Why were we fighting with the Detective? Why was the Colonel playing Russian Roulette?

-The argument between the Mayor and  the Colonel. The Mayor accuses the Colonel of not feeling anything about Mark’s death, and says that Mark “reached out” to him, to which the Colonel replies that just because he’s not “weeping like a child” doesn’t mean he’s not feeling anything. After this, the Mayor storms past us, out of the room. I’ve covered pretty much everything we learn from this in the characters section of this post, but basically, we learn that the Colonel and Mark were friends who fell out because of Mark’s fame, but the Mayor acted as a bridge between the two.

-The security footage shows us a conversation between the Detective and Mark, in which Mark asks about a background check on the Butler and Chef, and the Detective says that the Chef is clear, but says something I couldn’t quite understand about the Butler (UPDATE: Apparently it was "Butler is an asshole, but also clear" , thank you @sassy-in-glasses). What we learn from this is that first, Mark and the Detective were good friends, second, Mark hired him to check out those two, if not the entire party, and third that Mark didn’t trust his employees, for some reason, or at least had reservations about them.

Now, let’s talk about the crime scene, sans body. The caution tape on one side is broken, apparently from the inside (I think), and a cone is knocked over. So either someone wasn’t careful hauling the body out...or the body walked out.

Finally, let’s talk briefly about the Jims. Their video is a bit silly, but does give us some pretty clean shots of the poker table and the crime scene again. Reporter Jim touches nearly everything, which isn’t helpful at all, but most interestingly, when they’re running away, he falls over, and we get a...*ahem* close shot of him as Camera Jim says his name and panics, and the video glitches out and stops. Is Reporter Jim dead? And why the glitching? Clearly, something bigger is going on here.

So as of yet, I don’t know who did it. But I’m excited to see what’s next. What do you guys think is happening? Did I miss anything? What should I look into in more detail? And most importantly...

WHO KILLED MARKIPLIER?!

Is that a light? Oh, I can barely see anymore, but it seems to me that the darkness has actually receded. Perhaps something shifted, and it’s day, out there. Perhaps it’s sunlight. That would be nice.

The bugs don’t bother me anymore, which is good news, I suppose. Bad news for my nerves, as even though I can’t feel the bugs anymore, I can’t feel anything else either. But I suppose that’s fine. I’m more comfortable now.

It was worse the first day. The pain from the fall, the broken limbs, the raw throat from screaming. It was unbearable down here, in the dark, and the heat, with the fear. That’s another thing. The fear, the constant, aching fear of the dark and the bugs, and the overarching fear of not being found in time...it’s gone. And I can almost be happy here, in my last moments, I suppose. Once the pain stopped, and the fear, I looked around, for once. The rock is gorgeous, down here, so textured and streaked through with lovely greys and blacks and the occasional reddish brown, if you squinted through the shadow enough. The birds singing overhead were nice while I could hear them, a constant melody from early morning to late evening, sunrise to sunset concerts that I’m glad I was here to appreciate. I can see why the ancient ancestors of humanity wrote endless volumes of poetry dedicated to the beauty of the natural world. It’s very hard for us to slow down long enough to appreciate it. I suppose I’ve slowed to a stop, now. Or...I will, soon enough.

You will, too, soon. I know all of this sounds impossible to you now. Or would, if you could hear me over that silly screaming. Even with my own hearing fading, you’re still awfully loud, friend. I do wish you’d stop and listen. I don’t suppose I thanked you for coming to look for me, yet, did I? Thank you. I would’ve thought that four days after they’d just be looking for a body, wouldn’t they? Glad you wanted to find me alive. Sorry you did. I think they’ll find you, though. If something’s shifted, and that light is sunlight, someone will see you, won’t they? That’s nice.

Oh...it’s flickering. That’s a bit strange for sunlight to do. Flicker, on and off...on and off...and now it’s just...off? Reminds me of a flashlight, flickering like that...flicker, flicker, flicker...and when it flickers off, doesn’t it seem darker? Hahaha...wouldn’t that be just funny? If...if instead of shifting to get more light, something shifted and now we’re even more hidden. Wouldn’t that be just hilarious? Hahaha. That’d mean you won’t ever be found, wouldn’t it? Hahaha. Funny...very, very funny...

((Prompt from the writing.prompts instagram.))

this blog doesn’t support bullying over fictional characters and ships(￣▽￣)ノ

Like I’ll take all of that, just less tears pls and thank

Hehehe.

Same.

Hope you had a good holiday season! Good luck for the new year

And you as well! Hope you have a wonderful year ahead of you full of love, laughter, and luck.

Nope!

A/N: I smell a fandom fire! What a good time for some nicely roasted angst!

Dark knew what this feeling was. He was all too familiar with it, wasn’t he? All the same, the familiar panic began to rise in his throat, and he stood suddenly at his desk, before grunting and hunching over it, one hand slamming down into the surface, cracking it in an attempt to steady himself, but it felt like the world was spinning.

It was very fast this time.

“Dark?”

Oh, no. No, Wil, you don’t need to see…

But Wilford was leaning heavily on the door frame, bubblegum-smile missing and face pale, eyes wide and deathly scared. Dark knew that look.

“It would seem it isn’t just me,” he said softly, trying to come around the desk to join him, but this caused the room to turn sickeningly on its side. He slid to the ground with a groan. Wilford made an effort to come to him at the same time, and collapsed to his knees halfway there.

“What’s happening? What’s…?”

“We’re dying, Wilford.”

The tears that had already been forming leaked out and onto his cheeks as he whispered, not even strong enough to summon his usual smile, “It’s…but it’s all a joke, isn’t it? It’s always been a joke, hasn’t it?”

“A cruel joke,” Dark agreed, slumping further onto the ground. He vaguely made out Wilford collapsing fully, heard him wheezing. “It’s not fair…it’s never been fair.”

They were quiet for a moment.

Suddenly, Wilford chuckled, and the sound of it brought real tears to Dark’s long-dried eyes. He didn’t know he could still do that. How interesting.

“Not quite the blaze of glory I had planned, is it, Dames?”

“So you do remember.”

He’d have nodded if he still could have. He couldn’t even see anymore, really. Vague, grey and blue and red shapes. He didn’t know if Wil could still hear him.

“Thank you, William.”

“It’s been my honor. Damien. Celine.”

There were no other words. Everything went black.

“Dark? I have some new concepts to go over with you, and we need to discuss this week’s schedule.” Bim knocked on his door, and was surprised when it gave way under his hands. Frowning, he stepped into the office.

It was oddly empty. The fire was still burning in the white marble fireplace on the far end of the room, and there were papers sitting on the desk, as if someone had been halfway through them and been interrupted. The chair was pushed back carelessly, and the thick rug was wrinkled in one corner.

Bim walked slowly over to the desk and picked up one of the papers. For a moment, it looked as if he were reading and old article, the tabloid headline stating “MURDERS AT MARKIPLIER MANOR REMAIN UNSOLVED”.

And then, the page was blank.

Bim wondered why the egos never used this office. It was nice, very stately. Fit for a politician.

Perhaps Google would like it. Always best to offer the boss the best spot in the building, and his current room wasn’t nearly enough. Why had they stuck him in that little side room again? Why had he let them? Maybe he liked the privacy.

He wandered off to find him, feeling vaguely as if he’d forgotten something important. But he was sure it was nothing.

Broken (Demon!Dean from SPN Imagine)

Pairing: Dean/Reader

Rating: PG13

"No."

"Sam, I'm not a child. I can do this."

"No. You're not going in there."

"Well, why do you have to do it? What makes you more qualified than me?"

"I'm his brother."

"I'm his girlfriend. Have been for three years."

Sam sighed and looked down at his shuffling feet. The bunker was quiet, and felt almost suffocating today. There was a table covered in empty coffee mugs, and a dungeon that was all too full.

This was the third time you and Sam had had this debate, and you were determined to win, close to tears or not. When he finally looked up and nodded, you blinked.

"You're gonna let me do it?"

He gave a very weary smile. "Like you said, you're not a kid. And...Maybe you would be better."

He was nearly knocked over by the tight hug you gave him, and stroked your hair.

One... Two...

Breathe.

Three.

You slid the door open slowly, the creak and groan of metal filling the silence. Not looking up from the ground, you came into the room.

There was the sound of movement, a moment of surprised hesitation, then...a laugh. And it wasn't his laugh.

"I was wondering when Sammy would let you down here, (Y/N)."

You tried very hard not to wince at your name in that mocking tone, eyes still glued to the ground as you shut the door and went to the small silver table with the roll of syringes.

"Aw, you're gonna drug me up. Baby, that's adorable-"

"Don't call me baby." You could almost feel him smile; it made your skin crawl.

"Why not? You love it when I call you baby."

"I love when Dean calls me baby."

"I am Dean. Just-"

"You say a newer model and I'll punch you in the goddamn face." He chuckled.

You picked up a syringe, and a needle. Put the two together. Started to roll up your sleeve.

"You know you can't fix me, right?"

"Watch me."

"Well," he shuffled again, relaxing into the chair a bit, "you can make me human again, sure. But you can never fix me. I'll always be broken. I was when I met you, I was before I got the Mark, I was when I was human and had it. This is the closest to whole and happy I've ever been."

"Shut up." It was practically a whisper.

But he kept on, and the words hurt worse than the needle in your skin.

"See, now I'm not worried about anything. I don't care if Sammy dies, or Cas. I don't care if you die-"

"Shut. Up."

"-I wouldn't feel a bit of guilt, even with your blood on my hands. Actually, that'd be kinda fun. Chasing you around, hunting you down-"

You pulled the needle out sharply and stalked over to him, jabbing it in mercilessly. He hissed and fought, crying out as you pushed in the plunger and the blood flooded his system again. As you walked back over to the table, he began to scream.

"Why the hell are you even trying?! This won't work! It can't, and I don't want it to! Why does it matter what happens to me?!"

"Because I can't lose you, and I won't, even if I have to go to Hell and back again. Because Dean Winchester, I love you, and I won't stop until you're human or I'm dead."

As you walked out, you kept your eyes fixed on the door, trying desperately to ignore the tears blinding you at least until that door was shut behind you again. To your surprise, he said nothing else, and the only sound from him was heavy, ragged breathing.

You didn't look back as you shut the door, but if you had, you would have seen the demon staring at you, face slack with shock, frozen.

Just for a moment, right before the door closed, he moved forward, and opened his mouth as if to speak.

And there was a flash of green in those black eyes.