—Wonder how many of my 12 followers I’m gonna lose for this one? ‘Cause I’m pretty sure you’re all gonna hate me. OwO
God, I love writing death scenes, bwahahahaha.
Oh, and I put the new Condesce in here, too. You know, the two-braided troll? The new one? The awesome one? OwO—
Dave set the last bomb down behind a small pile of rubble, lifting his shades a little to make sure the gray-colored fuse was indiscernible from the ground. Satisfied, he went back to the first of the five or so explosives – the only one with a set timer, connected to the others by the fuse – and laid his finger on the switch to turn it on.
—Guess what? There’s finally a plot! Like, 20 chapters in! Who knew, huh?
That’s what I get for winging it. >.>—
The woman opened her mouth to speak, but before she could Aradia cut her off.
“Are you a ghost?” she asked, bypassing tact.
The glowing woman laughed, and her voice was more ethereal than anything else. “No,” she answered. “A ghost is a hologram built on emotion, an imprint of someone already having joined the Lifestream. I’m not a hologram, just a visitor.”
I can’t remember what the festival at the beginning of Dirge of Cerberus was for. You know, the festival that the Deepground Dipshits crash-landed into?
If anyone else knows, let me know. If not, I’ll just make the festival in Midgarstuck be marking the anniversary of Meteorfall.
Sound good to you folks?
—As I warned, nothing but fluff. Besides something Jake says near the end, this part’s not really significant to the plot. I’m just a hapless fanfic writer who needs more fluff in her life, especially two days after V-Day and STILL not in a relationship, and this is my only outlet at the moment because for some reason my fluffly pictures come out stupid and I hate them.
Anyway, have some GunBlade fluff!!! Whee~—
Karkat led the three into the cavern, where Sollux and Roxy were already passed out together on one of the cots they’d laid out. He and John left the other two to their own devices, going to the cot in the middle, where John asked him softly about the bruises on his face.
Watching Advent Children in Japanese with no subtitties just because I have it memorized.
I wish this portable DVD player had blu-ray capabilities, though, I kinda want to watch Complete. ;n;
I can’t believe I just did that…. —
Jake sat staring in horror as his brain tried to run through what had just happened, to try to make sense of it all.
—I LEARNED A NEW WORD. PECKSNIFFIAN. Now I just need to find a good place to use it. XD Thank you, Charles Dickens and dictionary.com.
Oh, yeah. I have a chapter for you guys. I’m really in a writing mood now, so I’ll probably start working on the next chapter tonight (as in, probably the next few minutes. XD)
Anyway, have fun!—
Terezi was shaken awake by a rough hand, and she opened her eyes to darkness. Of course,she was a little more than used to it, so she wasn’t surprised. What did surprise her was the scent of the place she had woken up in; the WRO headquarters still smelled from the years it had been out of use and rotting quietly. Though the smell of cleaning chemicals was ever-present, it hadn’t covered up the smell for her, though she didn’t know of anyone else who could smell it. Her nose was sharper than most.
There were hands on his skin, and they were warm. They had carefully removed the armor of the uniform he was wearing, and now they were slowly pulling up the fabric of his shirt, brushing against the raw skin around his bullet wound. He involuntarily let out a hiss at that, and the hands paused. He could sense concerned eyes gazing at his face, and he reluctantly opened his own eyes, finding Jake’s a little closer than he’d expected.
It wasn’t as if he was going to complain about that, though.
—Sorry it’s so short - pretty much exactly 3 pages, really short - but I really need to get to bed. I have work at noon, an hour after I usually wake up. XP
But anyway. Chapter 8. I’ll put this on dA and AO3 tomorrow >w<—
Gamzee pressed down on who he thought was a member of the WRO, blind hate and rage burning though him. He sank his teeth into every bit of the unfortunate man he could reach. He didn’t care that his arms were chained behind him. He paid no heed to the fact that the roar of boiling blood in his head was deafening him to the cries of the agent and those of the people around them trying to separate him from his prey.
All he wanted was vengeance.
The only light in the room came from the red, yellow, and blue of the computer tower. The monitor, onto which yellow characters flashed with the speed only sound could register, was only dwarfed in size to the massive mainframe it was connected to.
This setup was built from years of experience in hacking into virtually every computer or piece of technology on the planet, as well as years of solitude only recently broken into by some approximation of a social life. It was his only solace.