Guys...I Just Thought Of A Way To Make This Hurt More.

Do You Trust Me? Pt. 2

A/N: So this is the second part to the fic that I wrote yesterday. I’m still working on the name, so it may change. If you have suggestions, I’ll gladly take them.

Link to part one: http://skinnyscottishblokeaddict.tumblr.com/post/155650933267/pizsospa-cmon-little-dude-you-can-trust-me

"You alright?" "I'm fine, I'm fine. You? Did he hurt you?" "No, no, I'm-" Jack screamed and collapsed...

"Now, I'm thinking," Jack muttered as he hooked the camera up to the computer and fiddled with it, "That I know what we need to do. It's not gonna be easy to get there, but I think we need to go see a friend of mine. He'll probably know how to get you out of here, he's done it before. Just once, mind you, but he's done it." "I'm not the first one to get here?" You took a few steps toward Jack but he stopped you. "What are you doing, by the way?" "Making sure this particular port doesn't close. Camera shuts off, port closes, so I'm plugging in the camera. I don't want you stepping on cable." You shook your head. Sure, why not? It's not like anything else made sense. "Okay then...so who're we going to see?" "Just a friend," Jack said, glancing over with a smile, "I thought it'd be nice to surprise you." You finally managed to return his smile, and he laughed. "There it is! Yeah!" You chuckled. "So, how do we get to him? Can you drive?" "Well...not exactly. That's, uh...not quite how travel works here." He stood, apparently satisfied with his work, and walked over to the door, motioning for you to follow him.

Had you not been right behind him when he opened the door, he probably wouldn't have heard the small gasp you let out. It was the only sound you could manage to make. It was beautiful, in a strange way. Lines and lines and lines of code, stretching out like a floor, bright, fluorescent green on a pitch black background, without a sky, without actual ground. A few yards to either side of you were walls of more code, 0s and 1s stretching up in jagged, flat topped sections, as if you were standing at the bottom of the Grand Canyon. Farther on in the distance was what seemed to be a mountain, or a large hill, still of the same code. Everything looked like it was moving, with the code scrolling and occasionally blinking red. "Whadda ya think?" Jack grinned. And the first thing you could think to say was, "It's definitely not Ireland." That made him laugh. "No, no, no Ireland here." "Are we just gonna...walk the whole way?" "Yep!" And walk he did, you trailing numbly behind him, staring up at the walls. "But it's not all that long. This being my territory, I know a few shortcuts. Base of that mountain? There's a hole in the code I use to get to my friend sometimes. Cuts the trip in half, no problem." "Uh huh." Far above you, sections of code seemed to be flying. Jack followed your glance and nodded at them. "Messages. They're heading to my hub, the computer in there. And then I get to read them." "From us?" He nodded, smiling widely. "And...you read all of them?" "Every single one!" That put a smile on your face. Jack could guess why. "Should I expect one from you?" "...yeah. A couple, actually. Just...doodles." "I love doodles!" He clapped happily. You giggled. "You actually do that. That's awesome."

You walked a while, Jack occasionally pointing things out and explaining them. You managed to guess on your own that the red text was something being edited or deleted, which Jack seemed proud of you for. Once, a message flew a bit too low and Jack ducked too hard and fell. You helped him up once you finished laughing. "Here we go!" Jack said finally, as you paused to look at the code of the mountain's base up close. "Wait here a minute while I find it, yeah?" "Yep," you waved him off. This line of code wasn't moving like the others, and was a little bit duller. Old, you supposed. You wondered what it coded for. A message? A tweet? What if it was a picture? Absently, you put your hand out to trace a zero, and jumped back in surprise when a picture popped up, hologram style. It was a picture of Jack and a fan, with white text under it, reading, "LOOK WHO I MET IN THE SHOPS THE OTHER DAY!!!!!!!!! @therealjacksepticeye". Above it was a tumblr url. "How'd you do that?" Jack had wandered back over, and seemed more interested than concerned. "I just touched it." "Really? No commands or anything? Huh," Jack nodded, then squeezed your shoulders. "I guess bein' real makes you more powerful. Cool. C'mon, let's go." "More powerful," you scoffed as you followed him over to a gap in the wall, and squeezed into it behind him. The ground here was narrow, but not narrow enough to worry you. If you stayed in the middle, even the clumsiest person could walk it safely. There were doors are fairly regular intervals along the walkway, and you figured you were headed toward one of them. "Yeah, more powerful," Jack turned to look at you with mock sternness. "And you won't convince me otherwise." "Does it make me more of a boss than you?" "Now that's crossing the line." "But I've got more power. Ie, more of a boss." "Shut your whore mouth!" "Dickhead!" "Bastard!" It was amazing how comfortable you were with each other. Dreams, you supposed, made it easier to make friends. You were both laughing so hard that you didn't notice the strange, dark green code until Jack was almost standing on it. You had just enough time to say, "Jack, what's tha-?" before screaming. A hand erupted out of the ground, the same strange green as the weird code, and grabbed Jack, slamming him into the ground. He fell with a shouted, "MOTHER FUCKER", and suddenly the hand became a torso and a head, with neon green hair and eyes, fanged, manic grin coming right for you. You fell backward, screaming again as Anti grabbed your shoulders. It hurt, a surprising amount, as if you were getting electrocuted. You struggled, your muscles convulsing horribly, out of your control. He was stronger than you'd thought he'd be. He started to laugh, the maniacal, glitching laugh you remembered from the videos. "Get off them!" Anti was suddenly jerked off of you, rolling with Jack a short way away, but you were too focused on the fact that you were falling. "JACK!" You scrambled to grab the edge, and then you were swinging wildly, feet kicking above the vast, empty void under the walkway. Wordless screams of terror fought to get out of your throat, but that wouldn't help, so you held them back to just whimpers. You could hear fighting over you, glitched yells from Anti and curses galore from Jack. There was a loud thunk, and Jack's face appeared over you. He grabbed your arms and started to pull you up, straining. "Hold on!" "WHAT DO YOU THINK I'M FUCKING DOING?!" "JUST FUCKING HOLD ON!" You managed to get your torso back on solid ground, and Jack let go as you swung your legs up, standing back to give you room. "You alright?" "I'm fine, I'm fine. You? Did he hurt you?" "No, no, I'm-" Jack screamed and collapsed as Anti's hand closed around his arm. And then his arm began to glitch and blink red. "NO!" You shoved, holding onto Jack. Anti looked as surprised as you did when he slid back along the platform, chest glowing red. But Jack's grunts of pain brought you out of your stuper, and you pulled him up and started to run, barreling toward a door, any door. Anti screamed again, running after you, but he was slower now, you'd injured him. "YOU CAN'T HIDE FROM ME!" "SHOVE IT UP YOUR ASS!" Jack yelled back hoarsely as the two of you fell through a door.

You thumped onto a platform, and, standing, slowly, you saw that you were apparently on the side of the moutain, quite far up, and possibly on the other side. Jack closed the gap behind you. It looked like he drew code up from the mountain to cover it, weakly tapping bits and pieces of it to get it to go where he wanted. And then he slumped to lie down flat, breathing heavily. "You okay?" You knelt next to him, hands hovering over his still-red arm. It wasn't glitching anymore, which you supposed was good. "Not really," he muttered, trying to shrug and wincing, "But you are. So job done." "Job not done! Can I help? What's wrong with it?" "Not sure you can. Anti's corrupted my coding a little. Not enough for anything horrible, I don't think. But it'll hurt to use that arm for a bit." He managed a half smile. "I think I'll manage fine." You studied the faint red writing, thinking. "I think it's worse than You're saying." Jack shrugged with his good shoulder and you shot him a sharp look before looking back at the injury. "But...Jack...back there, I hit Anti. With something. I don't know. But it turned him red. Maybe I can...I can do it the other way?" He sighed, squeezing his eyes shut. "I guess. Not a lot to lose. 'Cept my arm, of course. But I might loose it anyway, so that's fine. Go for it." Great. Thanks for the confidence. You hesitantly put your hand on his arm. When Anti had attacked him, all you'd thought of was getting rid of him. So what would happen if you thought of saving Jack? Just bringing him back and making sure he's alright. He had done so much for you already, making you smile on your worst days, offering you support and hope and a place to belong. You'd always hated seeing him hurt, always wanted desperately to just be able to reach through the screen and give him a hug, make it all better. His arm slowly started to fade back to normal. Jack stared at it, fascinated. When it was normal again, he flexed it, and seemed dumbfounded that it didn't hurt him to do so. "Thanks..." "N-No problem." You honestly hadn't expected that to work. And you weren't sure how it did. You laid down flat beside him, both of you letting out sighs of relief. Without saying a word, you agreed to take a quick break from travelling.

It occured to you suddenly that you'd felt pain back there. And stupid as that sounds...pain meant this wasn't a dream. All of this was real. And Jack had really saved your life. And you were really stranded in a bizarre internet world, with very little chance of getting home. You didn't realize you were crying until Jack scooted over to you and pulled you onto his chest, putting an arm around you. Suddenly, you were sobbing, and you couldn't stop. Jack just rubbed your back and held you. "It's alright. It's gonna be okay. You're gonna be okay." You stayed like that for a long time. Just you, and this digital man, in this empty part of the Web.

So JSE fandom...

how we feeling?

I’m a fan of both, and I kinda see them as an evolution? Like Anti started out wild and glitchy, but he’s slowly learning to control his...form, I guess? better than he did before, so he can be silent and menacing. He’s done playing games and is getting down to business, whatever his main business is now.

Okay question for everyone,

Do you all like the silent, menacing, Anti more or the crazy, chaotic glitch?

For me personally, I like the silent version more. Why? It's way more terrifying. With the other one, you know exactly what he's thinking and what he's going to do next but with the left one, he's way more unpredictable, way more sinister. He could easily kill you without you even knowing.

Okay so I wasn’t super far off with this! That’s nice! I even guessed the encounter with Actor Mark, though I had no idea it was going ot be in that cool of a context. I think instead of it being about the line between life and death, it was more focused on the line between reality and experience, with life and death as an underlying issue. We were lost in a way, but not in the house, not in the literal sense that I expected.

It was amazingly cool to see the spiral into madness from inside Damien’s head. That was something I wasn’t expecting, but I’m so glad about, and that could only have been done with animation. Well done everyone involved!

LAST MINUTE THEORY LET’S GO

Okay, so in the last 90 minutes before the video comes out, let’s discuss what we know so far.

DAMIEN is the story of everyone’s favorite unfortunate mayor POST-Who Killed Markiplier. Now this immediately brings up two questions: Are we following Actor Mark in Damien’s body, Damien in the DA’s body as he becomes Dark, or a combination of the two? My guess is that we’re following Damien, but we’ll encounter Mark, and/or we’ll watch Damien spiral out of control obsessed with finding him.

From what we’ve seen so far, Damien is wandering in the woods. Are we just outside of the House? Are we lost? (I say we because there’s got to be some element of the DA in Dark, which might be why he’s so unsettling.) As seen in the little teaser clip here on tumblr, and in the audio from Twitter, Damien is questioning what to do next, who he is now and why he’s still here. The lines between life and death have blurred for him, but not to the extent that they have for Wil. I think this is going to be what causes him to spiral, this need to finish Actor Mark but not knowing if it’s possible because to them, no death is final.

Final thoughts: I’m in love with the fact that this is an animated project. I’m also curious as to whether we’re going to run into Wil. I’m also also enjoying the pre-premiere chat full of memes and singing.

LET’S GOOOOOOO

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.

Alone. (A Who Killed Markiplier Drabble)

The first thing he noticed was that he was in a tremendous amount of pain. His chest was on fire and his head was pounding, it was like every muscle in his body was rebelling against him. His eyes were the only thing that seemed to be working, and all he could see was the domed ceiling and the chandelier above him, oddly tinted and out of focus.

As it came back into focus, he noticed a second problem: he didn’t know who or where he was. Through the blinding pain, there was no name coming, no picture of what he looked like, no friends or family’s faces or names, no fond memories...no memories at all. Just a vague feeling of...dread? Or anger?

He grunted as his arms and legs finally decided to work for him to lift him up, so that he was panting and kneeling on the marble floor. Shaking his head, he looked up, finally trying to guess where he was. His eyes locked with someone else’s.

He was starting backwards, a voice in his head screaming “MURDERER” before he had a chance to think for himself. The other man was on his feet in an instant.

“Oh no, no! It’s okay!”

Colonel. The old title came to him as the man talked about thinking he was dead. Had he been dead? The thought distracted him for a moment so that he lost some of what the man was saying. Surely he wasn’t dead, he was thinking, he was here...and yet...why could he see the Colonel, in front of him, a gun smoking in his right hand? Why could he see two hands...his hands...rising to his eyes, covered in blood? He could almost hear a voice, the Colonel’s panicked voice, saying...

“Did Damien put you up to this?” The name was like a bucket of ice water over his back. He knew it, and he’d been known by it. But...that wasn’t right, was it? Why hadn’t the man recognized him then if he was this “Damien” he seemed to know well? He wanted to ask, but the Colonel wasn’t listening anymore, and he couldn’t seem to make his voice work anyway. As the Colonel wandered away from him, calling for someone to answer, Damien again, and someone called Celine, names he barely knew but felt like he had always known, his heart gave a funny pang. He almost went after the strange officer, going so far as to take a step toward him, mouth forming a name he didn’t remember, but his eyes were drawn to the silver and black cane the Colonel had put down on the table. As he picked it up, another shot of pain went through him, and he looked up.

The face in the mirror before him...wasn’t him. It might once have been, he wasn’t sure, but now...it was different. Hollow, and gaunt...monochrome...

Dark.

He scowled at the face, and it scowled back. More pain stabbed through his neck, and he twisted it to try and alleviate it. There was a loud crack, and when he looked back in the mirror, straightening himself out, he knew he hated that face. But it wasn’t his face, it was the face of a man who had once worn it that he hated, who’d forced him into it now. Vague memories that didn’t make any sense swirled in his head, and they didn’t seem to matter anymore, except for being the cause of the heavy, burning anger that seemed to be all he could feel, the piercing ring that stuck in his ears. There was only one thought in his head as he turned away from the mirror with a jerk and went to clean himself up and get to work:

Mark would pay.

Ill Met By Moonlight.

A/N: I really wanted to try and write a really, truly scary version of Dark, because I feel like he’s too often not used as scarily as he could be. I like creepy villains, so let’s make a worse big bad than Anti! Based in the same universe as Don’t You Trust Me? Taking place sometime in the beginning of October of 2016. Enjoy. :)

Thump. Thump. Thump. Buzz. A chuckle.

The figure alone in the alley smiled slightly as he laughed. The green tinge that the code on the walls gave his skin made him look like a walking corpse, made his red hair look like waves of infected blood spilling over his closed eyes. When he spoke, it was like listening to an ancient door grind open, raspy and deep, with quiet power. "So...you're the one I've heard so much about. This...other one that everyone's panicked about. It took you long enough to come to me."

His eyes opened slowly, pure black orbs that seemed to focus on the dark green smoke that was coalescing out of the coding about two yards ahead of him. He watched it with limited interest as it slowly took the form of a man, crossed armed and smirking. His eyes, crinkled almost shut with his grin, and his hair were the same toxic green as the coding, and he couldn't seem to hold this form perfectly, glitching every few seconds, now an arm made of static, now one eye that was just code. The two men faced off for a moment, each silently sizing the other up. The green haired man spoke first, and even his voice was glitchy, high and pitch-distorted, like radio interference or the rewinding of a cassette. "That makes you the old man, doesn't it? What a pleasure to meet you." He swept into a mocking bow. The red haired man's jaw tensed, but he made no reply. The green haired man let out a sharp, high laugh, but was cut off suddenly when the other lifted a hand, seeming to choke on his own sound. "You," growled the dark haired man, "are far too loud." He shoved his hand forward and the other man went flying, thudding into the far wall and sprawling on the ground, trying to get up but pinned down by some unseen force. The dark haired man strolled forward, unconcerned. "You're young. I can forgive a few...mistakes. But you're rising quickly. Keep this up..." He knelt beside the prone man, who glared up at him with bared teeth, and smiled for the first time, a cold, calculated grin. "You'll fall twice as fast. And I'll never let you crawl back up." "You think you can control me?" The green haired man spat the words, glitching hard in his fury. "I'll destroy you, you joke of a creature. I've ten times the power you ever had." The red haired man shrugged, and stood, turning. As he walked away, toward a black door frame that was taking shape before him, he spoke over his shoulder. "You've been around long enough to hear the legends? The stories my...fans, have told? Well...Find me when that day comes. I'll show you what power I have." And just as quickly as he'd appeared in this abandoned corner of the web, he was gone.

The green haired man stood, studying the place in the wall where the other had disappeared. He was a force to be reckoned with. Not even his counterpart knew his true strength, hell, no one was sure if he himself knew. All anyone knew was that he'd been there since the beginning, practically, and operated in the background, silent, like a creeping dread. Anyone, anything that crossed his path...destroyed. Utterly, and without mercy. There were those that said even catching a glimpse of him was a death sentence, and those that said the black of his eyes was caused by the souls he'd overpowered writhing behind them. No other of their kind had the following he did, with so little for them to work off of but such passion. Such dangerous, dangerous passion. Now, the green haired man...New as he was, he was gaining a following quickly. And the bigger the following, the more power he gained, and the more dangerous he became. Why then did he find himself...uncomfortable, in the shadow of this older figure? What was this...weight in his gut? For the first time, he was beginning to realize with a degree of shock...he was afraid. But this only fueled his anger. "My turn."

And the alley was empty, with nothing but a whiff of smoke and a fading, high, maniacal laugh echoing on the walls left behind.

"Dark Side" Headcanons.

-They're thought forms (See previous story about Hyde Glitches), so the bigger the following in the fanbase, the stronger they are. And they're (almost) all aware of each other.

-The Youtubers, or their Personas, anyway, are generally unaware of their dark sides. The exceptions are Mark and Jack (bc their counterparts have appeared intentionally in videos).

-For the longest time, Dark was the strongest of them. And then Mark turned him into a joke. He lost power quickly.

-No one was expecting Anti's rise. Not even Jack, who had his concerns but didn't panic until shortly before Halloween.

-When Anti rose, Dark was bitter and jealous. Anti's a snarky, arrogant shit, so he fed this bitterness. Now Dark's biggest wish is to kill Anti.

-Problem being, this would kill Jack as well, with how strong Anti is. Because Jack is Sean's online existence, and Anti is now canonically part of this existence.

-Mad!Cry, Pewdiepie.EXE, MadPat, Natemare, etc. are all weak, and were henchmen to Dark because they were afraid of him and greedy for a cut of his popularity and power. When Anti rose, they offered their surfaces to him, but he's not much of a leader, just a destructive force. Now they just cause minor havoc whenever they can.

And also...

-Corroded Crank just came into existence. And he's not evil, he's just broken. He's also Dark's prisoner. He's only dangerous when his programming malfunctions, then he's deadly strong.

If you want stories based on these ideas, my asks are always open and I’m happy to write suggestions!

I’ve gained so many followers recently bc of my Anti stuff??

So I just wanted to say thank you, hello, and I hope you like what you read. Feel free to send me suggestions and headcanons of your own!! Once again, thank you guys. :)

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?"