Not Exactly A Fic

Who Killed Markiplier? Chapter 2 Update.

WE’VE GOT MORE EVIDENCE MOTHERFUCKERS! Time to look at the new information (AND THE NEW CHARACTER) we’ve been given.

My first post, covering Chapter 1 and the Jims. Just in case you want to follow along with my theory thread.

First of all, let’s talk about Mark’s room.

-On the way there, we learn that the Detective and Mark have been working together for years, and that recently, Mark’s gone “quiet as of late”, and that he was worried about something, but he doesn’t know what it was.

-The room is a mess, pillows, books, sheets all over the floor, the bed in disarray. There's an envelope on the ground, which I think might be important.

-On the table are four pictures. The first is Mark, the Mayor, and the Colonel. The second is the three of them again, but Mark has the Woman (more on her later) on his arm. The third is Mark and the Mayor, both smiling. The last is a broken picture of the Colonel.

-Here’s the questions and the guesswork so far: The Colonel, The Mayor, and Mark were all once great friends (the first pic, the Colonel’s conversation with us). Then, Mark got more famous, and the Woman became involved (Maybe Mark’s girlfriend?). The Colonel had a falling out with Mark, while remaining friends with the Mayor (pic 3, the Colonel’s conversation). That fourth, broken picture of the Colonel is significant. How did it break? Who broke it? Was it Mark, angry and betrayed by his friend? Was it the Colonel, furious at his abandonment? Did it break when Mark was attacked? In terms of the messy room, there are two options: either Mark was attacked in there and there was a scuffle, or it’s been ransacked by one of the party members. That envelope on the floor might hold case files or information about the guests from the Detective. If so, is that what the searcher was looking for?

Next, let’s talk about the Colonel:

-In this chapter, he’s acting more and more suspicious, more and more violent and flippant about the subject of death. But a lot of his statements don’t line up. He wants the “privilege” or shooting the possible zombie, but refuses to “speak ill of the dead” during our walk with him. He knows we’re friends with the Mayor, and calls him a good man and a good friend, but seems to be avoiding him (jumping in the pool, running to the golf course).

-We learn that he and the Chef have a history, apparently with the Chef working for the Colonel. Apparently they also worked together when the Colonel was just a private, so it was a long time ago.

-The Colonel says “I will not be called a murderer in my own home!” He claims to own the mansion, which doesn’t make any sense. It’s Markiplier Manor, isn’t it? Unless he and Mark are either related, or Mark took the house from him, and that caused the break.

Also, let’s talk about that final fight scene between the Colonel and the Detective:

-We hear a shot, and a vase breaking (pointed out later by the Butler), and run in after the Mayor.

-Inside, we find the Detective and the Colonel pointing guns at each other. The Colonel claims that the Detective attacked him, while the Detective claims that the Colonel tried to shoot him. The Colonel claims that he was doing target practice inside because he couldn’t get to the grounds that the Chef was blocking (much to the incredulity of the Butler).

-This is the crucial point in the video where we learn that the Colonel used to work with the Chef, and when the Colonel claims to be the owner of the manor. BUT ALSO!

THE WOMAN:

-Okay so we know from the pictures on the table that she’s an old friend/lover of Mark’s, and at least slightly knows the Mayor and the Colonel.

-She also appears out of nowhere, apparently expecting violence or tension, but possibly unaware of the death. The biggest questions are: who is she? Why is she here? Was she invited?

-UPDATE ADDED AFTER ORIGINAL POSTING: Apparently her “name”/designation is the Seer. Did she have a vision about the murder and come running to check on Mark and the gang?

Ooooh BOY I am loving this! I love a good mystery, and the hints and characters feel straight out of a silly version of Agatha Christie. The whole team did so well, and again I’m super impressed with the acting and the level of detail they went into. But tell me what you guys are thinking! Who did it, do you think? Did this new evidence change your mind about the killer? Who is the Woman? What happened between Mark and the Colonel that led to their falling out? And is there new evidence I don’t know about yet?

This is exciting!!

oh. oh no.

A persons fanfic tells you a lot about them, i , a fanfic writer, realize in terror

Not a theory, not a fic, just a thank you, because I totally agree. I love my fellow Jims (lol). :)

Unrelated, but-

Can I just say it has been so much fun, and such a pleasure to work alongside the fandom and the other mods on this blog? We’ve all made a super-team, helping each other with our ideas and supporting opposing theories – everyone has been so civil and, well, a pleasure to work with and talk to! Thank you guys so much. @markiplier ’s community is beyond rewarding to be a part of. You guys are great! 💖 - Em

My guess would be that "little buddy" might refer to Mark as per survalence by the egos. That "designation: little buddy" is simply a code name referring to the constant survalence of the ego's "little buddy", mark. But that's just a theory, a gAME THEORY

THANKS FOR WATCHING.

lol seriously, though, I can get behind that. I like the irony in the implication that provides that Mark is the sidekick character in this. And I like the idea of all the egos keeping an eye on him as he’s wandering around this place, or, alternatively, trapped there.

I’m actively shocked that I don’t have a bingo.

How many full rows do you have?

My fingers slipped...

"I fuckin' dropped my headphones again, dammit," he laughed, bending to pick them up. You laughed too, shaking your head, and though you knew he couldn't hear you, you muttered fondly, "I mean it's to be expected, ya over-enthusiastic green bean." "What'd you call me?" You stopped, frowning at the screen. Jack was looking straight at the camera, in mock-offense. You chuckled. "Damn, my timing is on today." You really should stop talking to yourself... "It wasn't even a clever joke!" Jack grinned, sidling toward the camera, swinging his headphones in one hand and his VR set in the other. "It was plain insulting! I am the greenest of beans, thank you!" "It's like you can hear me!" You laughed, getting ready to hit the home button. Jack's smile dropped in surprise. "Wait. You heard that? You saw that?" You paused again. This was...not what you expected.

"And I will SEE ALL YOU DUDES...IN THE NEXT VIDEO!" The outro music played, making you laugh as you dropped your arms and scrolled down to the comments. Twenty seconds to chill there before you caught the outro clip and moved on for the day, which was fine with you. Twenty seconds was more than enough time in the comments with the "buy me" bots so abundant these days. You hummed along to "I'm Everywhere", debating putting the song on in the background while you got some work done before bed. This was a routine of yours: Come home, watch videos, do some work, and sleep. It was a good system, and it was nice to see your favorite youtuber's faces at the end of your day, almost always leaving you smiling as you turned off the lights. Jack, Mark, Ethan, everyone you watched, made you so happy. They might not know you personally, but that was okay. It was enough to send them your love and support, and it was cool to occasionally get a like or a reblog, or, much rarer, a reply, once in a while. It was fun enough just being part of the community, laughing at the inside jokes and smiling and crying together through all the games and videos. Everyone was so nice, it was unbelievable. It was like having millions and millions of friends to chat with 24/7. What a feeling! You were so lost in thought that it startled you when the music cut out and Jack's voice came up again in the outro clip. You scrolled up, smiling. "I fuckin' dropped my headphones again, dammit," he laughed, bending to pick them up. You laughed too, shaking your head, and though you knew he couldn't hear you, you muttered fondly, "I mean it's to be expected, ya over-enthusiastic green bean." "What'd you call me?" You stopped, frowning at the screen. Jack was looking straight at the camera, in mock-offence. You chuckled. "Damn, my timing is on today." You really should stop talking to yourself... "It wasn't even a clever joke!" Jack grinned, sidling toward the camera, swinging his headphones in one hand and his VR set in the other. "It was plain insulting! I am the greenest of beans, thank you!" "It's like you can hear me!" You laughed, getting ready to hit the home button. Jack's smile dropped in surprise. "Wait. You heard that? You saw that?" You paused again. This was...not what you expected. Deciding that you didn't have to worry about sounding crazy as you were home alone, you tested something. "Um...yeah. You said I insulted you." "I do that all the time, talk to you after videos...but you've never heard me before." Jack was staring at you, halfway between concern and interest. "Okay. I must be really tired. I'm going to bed," you announced, trying to convince yourself that you were just talking to yourself. "I mean if it makes you feel better," he said, shrugging. But he looked disappointed. It almost made you sad, but...but that'd be ridiculous. Getting sad about a hallucination. Ridiculous. You stood, pulling off your headphones and setting them down. But as you turned to take a step, the lights buzzed and dimmed for a moment. You frowned at them. Was there something up with the power tonight? Was a storm rolling in? The lights dimmed again, and the buzzing got louder. And in the buzzing, you thought you could hear... Something "tink"ed behind you. You turned to see Jack tapping frantically on the glass, saying something you couldn't hear. Alright. Dream fully commenced, you supposed. Though you didn't recall feeling tired enough to fall asleep at your desk. You picked the headphones back up and put them on. "-sten to me! Oh, thank Christ, you put those back on! Gimme your hand, now!" "What?" "Gimme your hand, you've gotta trust me for a minute, you're in trouble!" Jack was leaning toward the camera, hand outstretched. "But how can I...Y-you're a Youtube video! How the hell can I give you my hand?! What trouble?!" The lights flickered again, the buzzing now a constant drone, and under it, a faint voice, singing something you weren't sure you wanted to hear the words to. "Him! Now c'mon! Just reach!" "Jack, I dunno..." This was quickly becoming a nightmare, and you were starting to get scared. "C'mon, dude, you can trust me! Please!" A light popped and shattered behind you and you jumped. That was enough to make the decision for you, and you reached... ...and felt his hand grab yours. Suddenly, you were falling.

And then you were standing. Shell-shocked, you blinked and stumbled a step back, but someone's hands were on your arms to steady you. "Easy, easy, that kinda travel's hard on you the first time you do it." You gaped at Jack, right in front of you, in person. "How-? What-? Huh-?" Jack smiled, a little panicked still, a little reassuring. "Hi. Ah...welcome to the video." "Weirdest. Dream. Ever." You took a step back and Jack dropped his hands, putting them on his hips instead. "Ah, you're sayin' this is a dream. That's one way to cope, I guess. Okay. Dream it is, then." "Dream it is," You agreed, no willing to argue the point at this stage. "Ah, nice to meet you, Jack. Or, Sean, I guess-" "Oh, no, no," he said quickly, shaking his head, "I'm not Sean. I'm Jack." It was your turn to raise an eyebrow at him. "Meaning?" "Meaning Sean is part of your world. He's the actual person, I guess." He shrugged. "There's no good way of explaining it, and honestly, I've never had to before. Let's go with this: I'm Jacksepticeye, meaning I'm the part of Jack that exists online. In his videos, on twitter and tumblr and all that. I'm a..a persona, I guess." You nodded slowly. "So...I'm like...in the internet right now?" "Yeah." Jack nodded. "Welcome to the Web." "A physical place." "More or less." "How?" "Well, I don't really know. I wasn't hear for the beginning of it. All I know is that I exist. And this place exists. Sort of, half-real, I think. More electricity and code and computers than physical stuff." "That makes no sense." Jack shrugged, holding his hands up in defeat. "I did say I'd never explained it before. I dunno if I can." You shook your head and sighed. "Well...this is still a dream. So...dream logic it is. This exists because it does, that's all." "Alright, yeah," he agreed, smile returning full force. "Now about that...thing..." And the smile was gone again. "He hasn't done that before." "He?" But he didn't seem to hear you. Jack walked over to the camera, checking it for something, then busied himself finding a plug for it. "He's never made it out of a video before. It shouldn't be possible. But I suppose after Halloween, he would be stronger, wouldn't he?" There was a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach. "Not...?" Jack nodded solemnly. "Yeah. Him." "But...isn't he stuck in my world, then?" "No. I think...I don't know how, but I think he's connected to you. That's why I had to pull you in here, instead of just crashing the page." The sinking got faster. "So...I can't leave?" Jack rubbed his neck uncomfortably, looking at the floor. "Until we can figure out how to trap him again...no." You wished he hadn't used the word trap. He walked back over and put an arm around you. "We'll figure it out, okay? I'll get you home. I promise." You nodded numbly. Just a dream, you kept repeating to yourself. Just a dream. But still, the idea was terrifying. You'd loved the idea of him when you'd thought it was jut that: an idea. You'd even hyped him up all the way through October, hunting through videos for moments, liking gifsets and theories on tumblr. You'd never considered how it would be to meet him. You hoped you never did. You could almost still hear him singing.

"One, two Anti's coming for you..."

“C’mon little dude, you can trust me.”

Just a quick edit because I could not let the screenshot of Jack reaching out go

also IF THE UNUS ANNUS WEBSITE WOULD WORK THAT WOULD ROCK AAAAAAAAH

Memories

Pairing: Nine/Rose, Ten/Rose

Rating: G, but with like really mild angst

It was in the library.

Just a little thing. It shouldn't have been important enough for him to notice at all, really, except that it was pink. And not just any pink.

Her pink.

Not out of place in a library, a book. But this book...

He picked it up, staring at the cover, reading the embossed cursive words with a sad little smile on his face. Stardust Journal. He opened it to the inside cover, smiling at the little message written in it.

Property of Rose Tyler. If found inside the TARDIS, Doctor, c'mon, give it back. If found outside the TARDIS, please leave it where you found it. I'll be there to pick it up in a minute.

A Journal of Me and My Doctor.

He flipped it open to the first page, and found a pamphlet for a shop in London, and a news clipping whose headline read ATTACKING MANNEQUINS ON RAMPAGE. One word was scribbled in the middle of the page. Run! He laughed, and flipped through a few more pages, reminiscing.

A picture of Pete and Jackie Tyler, Jackie holding a little baby Rose, at a wedding for a friend. An ad for the Game Station's live premiere of Big Brother. A WW2 gas mask safety flyer. A ticket to see a strange collection of alien technology in America, deep underground. A sketch of a Dalek. A sketch of a Slitheen. The words Bad Wolf scribbled all over the place. Fantastic in the margins.

A piece of satsuma peel. A scrap of striped pajama. A picture of him (he looked so young!) taken on New Earth, on a ridge overlooking New New York. A dried piece of mistletoe, a picture of Queen Victoria. A picture of her and Sarah Jane in front of a school that appeared to have blown up. Strange, devilish symbols and a sketch of a demon. A picture of him posing stupidly with an Ood. A broken mirror shard.  A child's drawing of him and the TARDIS. A picture of him lighting the Olympic torch. Allons-y and Oh yes! scribbled here and there. A sketch of a Cyberman.

He put down the book after that page, still smiling sadly at the image of her face, fuzzed over the years, smiling with her tongue out and laughing at him. He could almost still hear her saying "Doctor!" How long had it been, since...?

He picked up the book again, and flipped to the last filled in page. It was just a sketch of the two of them, holding hands beside the TARDIS, heads tilted toward the sky. Forever was written across the bottom, with a heart beside it.

A single tear rolled down his cheek as he tucked the book onto a nearby shelf.

"Doctor?"

Amy stood in the doorway, looking impacient. "I thought we were going to see another planet? It's date night for me and Rory, you remember."

He sighed, nodded, and straightened his bowtie. "Of course. Where to?"

I wrote a book!

Hello! So for the better part of a year, I've been working on a science fiction book titled Artificial Intelligence, and it's been through beta reading after beta reading, edits, re-writes, and so much more, and it's finally published and available for purchase on Amazon. I'm so incredibly proud of this story, and I just wanted to share it. It's available in eBook form and a paperback physical book! Here's the link!

(Cover by the lovely @stitchtehhedgehog on Instagram)

Just a Game. (A WKM Oneshot)

1:00 am. The Colonel hadn't had this much fun in ages. The night seemed to be passing in a multi-color blur, with lots of games and a bit too much drink. He could barely breathe for laughing as he stumbled into his seat at the bar, watching the butler and Mr. Lincoln help Damien to right himself, and doubling up again as he stumbled into the now empty keg beside him, grinning wildly and chuckling with the rest of them. "How he's still doing that, at his age," Mark laughed as he slumped into the seat beside him, "I'll never know. Damien's a tough old lad." William huffed and turned slightly away, making Mark sigh heavily. "Colonel-" "William." "But I've always-" "You lost that right years ago." Mark frowned and looked down at the floor. "Will. I know we didn't part on the best of terms...There was a lot of bad blood between us." "Yes," Will replied shortly, wanting Mark to get to the point. Mark shuffled, and after a pause, continued. "What do you say we put this quarrel to rest, eh?" He narrowed his eyes at the grinning actor. "How do you suggest we do that?" "A game. Just a game." He spread his arms wide and offered what he probably thought was a winning smile. To the Colonel it looked like a shit-eating grin. "Something that'll give us an opportunity for revenge, and a sure-fire way of knowing what fate wants from us." He seemed to laugh at his own private joke.

1:20am The wine cellar was cooler than the rest of the house, exposed stone walls making it feel more like a cave than a room in a lavish mansion. William had never liked the cold, and liked it less now, sharing it with the one person he'd give anything to be rid of. Mark pulled a bottle off the wall and offered it to the Colonel, handing it to him with a small smile. "1982. Good year for wine." The Colonel didn't move to take it from him. "Then you drink it." "I would," Mark sighed, "but you know I can't. Not good for my health, you know." He knew, of course. He'd still rather Mark drink it than him. Mark put the bottle back down on the shelf and put his hands in the pockets of his robe "What about this game you proposed?" The Colonel frowned, leaning against the wall, hoping he appeared casual. "Ah, yes," Mark smiled again, and then he did something rather unexpected. He pointed to the silver revolver tucked into William's belt. William's hand went to it immediately, and Mark shook his head. "Im not suggesting we duel, if that's what  you're thinking. I'm unarmed." He said it as if it meant "harmless". "I was going to suggest a bit of Russian Roulette. You've always loved that one." "Bullshit. As if I'm going to let you point my own gun at me, after all this time, after Celine-" "William! Please." Mark took a step toward him, but made no move to take the gun. Instead he seemed to be pleading, one hand stretched toward him as if he'd like to comfort him, but a look from him stopped his advance. "I'm tired of all this fighting. I'm tired of having to go through Damien to talk to you, and as for Celine...I..." He shook his head slightly. "She's made her own choices. I never had any control over what she did, and yes, it hurt. It hurt like hell, but...Will, I just want my brother back." Dear god, did he actually have tears in his eyes? Maybe it was the drink, maybe it was the fact that he was home again, after so long, maybe it was just pure stupidity, but William pulled the gun from his belt slowly, and nodded. "One round. If I shoot you, it's your own fault." "Yes. Yes, of course," Mark grinned widely. "I can't blame you."

1:25am Mark watched the Colonel load just one chamber of the gun, looking as if he wanted to help when his liquor-loosened grip nearly dropped the bullet on the floor, but letting him have this. William handed him the revolver, and watched him spin it. This wasn't a good idea. This was dangerous. This was mad. But life needs a bit of madness, doesn't it? That's what he kept telling himself. Mark aimed carefully, and suddenly William was staring down the barrel of his own gun, and he wasn't going to get to say goodbye to Damien, he'd never see Celine again, and what would Mark say, how would he explain-? Click. William barely flinched, but raised an eyebrow at his grinning gunman. "See? Looks like fate's on your side, eh, old friend?" He handed the gun back over. "Your turn." "Mark...I can't..." "I trust you." Mark stepped out to switch places with him, and suddenly he was pointing a gun directly at Mark's chest. How had the other man kept it steady? The room was fairly spinning, and the gun was awkward in his hand, and the trigger was too thin, too fiddly. "Go on, then. Take your shot. Fair is fair, after all." "This is ridiculous." "Of course it is! But why not live a little? Life's-" "For the living. Yes, but..." "I took my shot at you, for stealing my...for...for Celine's choice. And for leaving us for Africa, and for the fight we never finished. And it's your turn now. I know I've not been the best friend to you. I know you blame me for Celine's leaving, and for...for what happened over there." "That was an accident." The words were harsh,  but Mark nodded calmly. "I know, Will, I know. I don't blame you. I never did. You're still my friend, even after all this time. I know that's hard to believe, but...Please. Colonel. Let me absolve my sins, won't you? Just one shot. Just a quick click, and we can put this all behind us. Wouldn't you like that?" He would. He so very much would. He wanted so badly to come home, he wanted the boy who'd taken him in and become his family to come back to him, and let him back in. And just one click...one harmless little click...he could have it all, all over again. Why shouldn't he trust him? After all, like he said, it was Celine's own choice. Perhaps her leaving had set him back on the straight and narrow. Perhaps he really was sorry, really saw how much he'd hurt them, how much he'd hurt him. But even as he pulled the gun back up to aim, something felt wrong, and the glint in Mark's eyes was off, something wasn't right, but he had to be wrong, didn't he? Couldn't he trust his friend? Just a quick click, nothing wrong with that...

Click. BANG.

1:30am It was like watching a ragdoll fall. And the blood matched the crimson night robe. And the stain was slow to spread, and the wine bottle had fallen and shattered and added to the stain, and he couldn't move. "It...it was an accident...Mark, it was an accident, I-I didn't...I wouldn't...I swear, Mark...?" Mark's eyes were still open, glassy, and his face expressionless. his legs and arms were twisted at impossible angles. "It was an accident, I s-swear..." The stain was spreading, and someone upstairs, probably Damien, laughed raucously over some joke William had missed. Someone upstairs...someone was going to see. Someone was going to ask questions. William stumbled up the stairs and slammed the door shut behind him, shambling back into the billiard room. He grunted as the detective put his arm around him, slapped him away, but the detective took it as a threat. Soon they were fighting, and Damien was pulling at the Colonel as the District Attorney was pulling at Mr. Lincoln. Then William was shoving Damien away from him, and he was almost running to his room. He collapsed into bed, watching the ceiling spin above him. Maybe it hadn't been real. Maybe it'd been a dream. He heard people coming up the stairs, thought he heard Damien say something, and the DA reply, laughing but grunting as if in pain. Damien. Dear god, what would Damien think? What would he say? He'd blame him, he'd push him away, he'd lose everything he had left... But...no. No, Damien would understand. He'd explain everything, and Damien, good man, smart man, would understand. He'd take his side, and the DA, of course they'd defend him. They wouldn't let anything bad happen to him, they hadn't last time. They'd never betray him, would they? No, of course not... His last thought as the alcohol in his system dragged him into unconsciousness was that he couldn't be blamed. It was an accident, of course. Just a game.