“May.”

Chained together, running through an underground (most likely) tunnel

...prison break?

OH MY GO D

OH MY GOD

OH MY FUCKING GOD

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.

I think we can assume that Wilford and Dark work more or less together to control the Iplier Multiverse, with Wilford being the more in-control or powerful of the two.

…. Dark WAS sitting at the head of the table.

Because he’s the most powerful out of everyone there? Or the most intimidating?

Either way I LOVE that detail.

Do You Trust Me? Pt. 5

A/N: THE END.

Link to Pt. 4: http://skinnyscottishblokeaddict.tumblr.com/post/155731272537/do-you-trust-me-pt-4

Link to Pt. 3: http://skinnyscottishblokeaddict.tumblr.com/post/155699231442/do-you-trust-me-pt-3

Link to Pt. 2: http://skinnyscottishblokeaddict.tumblr.com/post/155686403892/do-you-trust-me-pt-2

Link to Pt. 1: http://skinnyscottishblokeaddict.tumblr.com/post/155650933267/pizsospa-cmon-little-dude-you-can-trust-me

"GO! JUST GO! RUN!" You couldn't if you'd wanted to. But you couldn't move to help him either. He screamed again, clutching at his head, doubling over on his knees, his whole body glitching out. "No...NO!" And he collapsed. "JACK!" You ran toward him, all fear and panic, all thought for your own safety gone. You just needed to know he was okay. Your knees thudded sharply against the ground and you cupped his face with your hands. "Jack, please. Please wake up. Please. You can't leave me. You can't leave them. They need you, Jackaboy, c'mon." He grunted weakly and you let out a short sob. "Knew you could...do...it..." He was laughing. And when his eyes opened, they were black.

You scrambled back as he stood, dusting himself off. "Well," Anti said hoarsely, voice still glitchy and pitch-distorted, but growing less so, growing more...human. "That was harder than I thought, honestly. I'll give 'im credit, I didn't think he'd even put up that much of a fight. Still. Not strong enough." "Let. Him. Go." He arched an eyebrow at you and grinned, too wide. "'Let him go'? What, are we playing tag?" He laughed, that high, disturbing giggle. "Oh, I can't just 'let him go', even if I wanted to. He's gone. It's just me in here!" He tapped his temple gleefully, watching you stand as if you were an interesting bug he was about to crush. You felt a sob welling up, but more angry than afraid, you shoved it down and balled your hands into fists. "He's not gone, you disgusting, lying thing." "Thing, huh?" He took a step toward you, and you had just enough courage, or maybe adrenaline, to hold your ground. "Did I get downgraded? Normally it's 'demon' or 'monster'." "You don't even deserve that. You're just...bad data." "'Bad data'!" He laughed again. God, you wished he'd stop that. It was horrifying. "You're gonna have to do better than that." He took another step, and this time you couldn't help but back away. "You idiot," he put his hands in his pockets, steadily moving closer, loving every second of you shrinking away. You gasped when you bumped into the wall behind you, and he got closer. The black of his eyes slowly melted away to reveal neon green irises. He leaned closer still, until he was inches from your face. "You really don't get it, do you? He was the only one with any chance of stopping me. And you? You're a dead fan walking." His smile got impossibly wider in appreciation of his twisted pun. "He can still stop you." Your voice was barely a whisper, and you jumped when he shouted, voice glitching out as his emotions spiked. "HE'S DEAD!"

You took another shaky breath, eyes wandering desperately. And they caught your watch. The stupid, stupid thought that came to your head was, "I'm missing the new video."

Video one was out for today. The video was out... You had the smallest spark of an idea. It was a shot in the dark, but...If you were going to go down, you were going to go down trying.

You met his eyes, hating that they were green, hating that they looked at you with so much glee, and malice. "Jack. Please. You've gotta fight him. I know you can hear me. I know you're there." Anti's arm was suddenly on your neck, and you were scrambling to pull it away. "It's lucky I don't need you conscious," he growled, shoving again, "I just need you breathing. And only long enough to get across." "Jack," you gasped, "think...think about them. Think about...us. We n...we need you." A weak smile. "You're...you're the boss, right?" Anti pushed harder, and it was getting harder and harder to focus. Had you not been trying so damn hard, you might've missed the hesitation. But it was there, and it was enough to give you hope. "What...?" It was barely a grunt, but you caught it. And you choked out a laugh as Anti convulsed, stumbling back. It was his turn to grab his head, green eyes wide in confusion and shock. "No. No, no, no, no, NO!" You'd collapsed to your knees, but you struggled to stand again, one hand going to the wall behind you as you concentrated. "Who's the idiot who assumed you could make Jack go silent? Anti, you don't get it. Sure, the fandom likes you. But there's something Jack's got that you'll never have." "And what's that?" he spat, the end of the sentence turning into a grunt of pain. His arm began glitching slightly, then his leg, then one eye. You smiled coldly. "You're the villain, Anti. In every story, in every video, in every post, you're the villain. But Jack?" Now he was retreating from you. "Jack's our hero." And you turned and slammed your hand against the wall, and it brightened. Suddenly, a picture popped up. It was Jack and a fan, both smiling in excitement. Anti stared at it in confusion, and started glitching out again. He yelled and shut his eyes. "Dammit!" A video popped up next. Jack, at his panel, jumping off the stage amid cheers to hug a fan. His hands went to his ears. "Stop! Stop it! STOP!" A thank you letter, from Tumblr, from a fan whose life Jack'd saved. And then another, and another. More pictures. Fanart. Jack, riding Trico, laughing. Jack, in a striped jumper, with a bright green heart above his head. Jack, yelling as he fell from a Colossus's collapsing body. Jack screaming at Billy as he fell into spikes. The wall was filling with posts from Jack's fans. Video clips, edits, pictures, soundbites, messages, tweets, comments. "Millions of people. Millions. Calling out to Jack to come back to them. They need their hero, and you're not gonna get in their way." "No, no, no, no, NO! STOP IT! HE'S MINE!" But his voice was glitching worse than before, and you thought you could hear another voice under it, laughing. Another voice, yelling Jack's catchphrases in time with the clips on the wall. Another voice, saying your name proudly, egging you on. "Jack, c'mon! You got this! Kick him out! You can do it!" "STOP IT!" His whole body was glitching out now, his face jumping between the angry distortions of his screaming, and Jack's grin, Jack calling out to you. And then suddenly, he collapsed. You yelled and grabbed your ears, eyes clenching shut automatically as a high-pitched scream rang out.

Silence. Absolute...silence. You didn't dare open your eyes. Please. Please. Please. And then...

A groan.

Your eyes shot open. "Jack?" He slowly pulled himself up, until he was resting on one elbow, breathing heavily. And then he pushed himself up into a crouch. He looked over at you.

You'd never been happier in your life to see blue eyes.

"JACK!" He laughed as you fell to the ground and pulled him into a bone-crushing hug, hugging you back with just as much intensity. "Hey." "Don't you 'hey' me, you asshole," you sobbed, but you were grinning. You pulled back a bit and scrubbed your eyes vigorously. "Damn, I'm glad to see you. Oh god." "I'm glad to be back." You could tell he was trying desperately to sound light about it, but there was more genuine relief than teasing in it. More quietly, he added, "Thank you. For...those." He motioned to the wall of still playing messages, smiling at them fondly. "Don't thank me. Thank them." "I do," he chuckled. "At the end of every video. And I mean it every time. God, you guys are amazing." "Yeah," you agreed, moving to sit next to Jack so you could both look at the wall. New things were scrolling through now. Gifs from new videos, theories about lore and more fanart from recent game series. "Yeah, we are. There's so many of us." It was only just hitting you how many. "14 million." He sounded so wistful and happy about it. You looked over to catch a goofy smile on his face, which you had to match. "14 million people. And they all like the stuff I do here. They like the games. They like..." "You." His smile got a little sad. "They like Sean." "No." He looked over at you, smile dropping a little. You put a hand on his back. "No, Jack. They love you. You say you're the part of Sean that exists online. Well, that's the only part we know. Yeah, we love Sean. But we know you. You're the one that makes us smile and laugh, that we go on adventures with in every video. We love Sean, the person. But we also love Jacksepticeye. The channel, the brand, the community. We love green and blue eyeballs, we love the flatcap and the green hair, we love yelling the intro and the outro at top volume, high-fiving 'til the headphones come off. We love Sean for being the man who started all of it, for caring for us so much and working so hard to do what he loves, for doing all the good he does for the world, but we also love the world he created online. So that means we love you."

Apparently, it was possible for a computer program to cry, because Jack was wiping his eyes with the collar of his shirt. He couldn't even muster a comeback, or a comment at all. You rubbed his back, smiling a bit. "As for me, anyway...I'd still love to meet Sean, of course. But...I'm so fucking glad I got to meet you. I think everyone wishes you'd reply when they say something stupid to their screen, and...as much as this's been terrifying, and dangerous, and as much as I do want to go home...I have loved every second I got to spend with you. It's like finally getting to talk to an old friend. I love you, Jack." He couldn't speak for a long moment. He did manage to pull you back into a hug, choking out a laugh. When he finally managed to speak, it was hoarsely. "Thank you. And I love you, too. I love you guys more than anything else in the world." He laughed a little again. "I don't even have a fuckin' thing to say after that speech. God, how embarrassing." "The loudest man in the universe doesn't have words for me. Someone alert the media." He squeezed your shoulders, and then the both of you moved to stand, finally.

You didn't say anything else as you walked along, finally coming to the ravine. When you got to Jack's door, he opened it and gestured, almost teasingly for you to go in first. You thanked him for his chivalry. It was good to be home.

"You didn't argue when I said man this time," you murmured when Jack was adjusting the camera. He huffed. "I was a little tired, having been possessed and all." He turned to look at you, hands on his hips. "You ready?" "As I'll ever be, I guess." "Then...it's goodbye." "Yeah." There was barely a second of hesitation before you pulled each other close, and there wouldn't have been a way to tell who was hugging tighter if anyone tried. After a moment, you pulled apart again, smiling. "I think..." He stepped back, taking the flashdrive from you and plugging it into his computer, booting up the code. "I think it's probably possible to be both a man and a program." "Well," you went to stand in front of the camera, "I can say, without a doubt, you are the best Persona I've ever met." "I'll take that." He paused, then said your name, making you look back over at him. It was still nice to hear him say it. "See ya in the next video." "Yeah. See you in the next one." One more long look, and then you turned back to the camera, closed your eyes, and focused on home. You reached out and touched the camera, opening your eyes at the last moment and glancing back over one last time to see Jack waving. You waved back... And everything was fading. And you were falling.

I always imagine anti as kinda like the grinch, he detests Christmas much to the annoyance of chase

Oh absolutely.

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.

Ohhh you can see some of the room!! So yes, this is either a train car or an entrance hall, and again, I’m leaning toward train car.

Btw, here’s my own edit of the clip all brightened up. If you can gleam anything from it, feel free to use it

Visitor. (A WKM Drabble)

 A/N: So someone came up with the idea of Will and Celine having a kid, and my heart got really sad. So have some word vomit. (Credit to @turquoisemagpie for the neato drawing that gave Winnie her look and gave me the idea.)

Dark was mid-meeting when he felt it.

Someone was in the house. After all this time...he was here now, it'd been so long since he'd been back...but the feeling was familiar. He frowned, standing suddenly, earning a curious look from Google, who’d been trying to explain analytics to his uninterested audience. "Where's Wilford?" "He's in his studio, as always," Google replied, narrowing his eyes, "Why the sudden interest? We were discussing the primary-" "Excuse me." Dark moved quickly out of the room, slamming the door behind him. His aura was agitated, greying out the walls of the hallway, making Bim duck into a doorway to avoid it (it was unpleasant to pass through, to say the least) as he strode toward Wil's sound stage. He didn't bother to knock as he shoved the door open roughly. "Warfstache!" Wilford sighed heavily from his position in front of the green screen. "Dammit, man, can't you learn to knock? Jesus." He rolled his eyes and waved his gun at Jim, behind the camera, who quickly cut the take and scurried out of the room. Everyone in Ego Inc. knew what Dark slamming into a room would lead to. "Have you been back to the house?" "Are you out of your mind? Why would I go to Mark's house at this hour? I've been here, recording my new show all day. It's a real winner this time, Dark-" "You know damn well I don't mean Mark's house, idiot, have you been back to that house?" "What are you talking about?" Dark scowled at Wilford for a long moment. The fool couldn't remember, of course he couldn't. But that meant it hadn't been him. Of course it wasn't him, mumbled an annoyed voice in the back of his mind, how would he have gotten there and back so quickly? Besides, I still feel it so it can't be him. This bothered Dark even further. He hadn't heard that voice in years. Shut up. Dark turned on his heel and walked out, much to Wilford's confusion. He walked quickly, until he found an empty hall, and reached for one of the doors, concentrating. When he opened it, he found himself on the second floor landing. He stared at the railing for half a second, before huffing and walking down the stairs, looking around him for the intruder.

He found her in the foyer, looking...looking in the mirror.

The shattered reflection showed a pair of large, round lenses in bent black frames over two wide brown eyes, the arms curled under bobbed black hair. Her face was angular, but not particularly sharp, and she was smiling curiously. A small slip of a thing, really, her red collared shirt and high waisted black slacks clearly a few sizes too big for her, and the fact that she was lugging a massive leather carrier bag with the strap slung across her body didn't help with the delicate image. Definitely not your typical looter. She looked so much like him, the same silly smile and bearing, hands clasped behind her back as she inspected the antique before her, that Dark stumbled back a step as the old voice in his head yelled out in surprise. The noise alerted her to his presence and she whipped around, slapping a hand to the cover flap of the bag as if to grab something from it. "Oh my-! Oh, jesus, I-I'm sorry, I didn't know anyone still...but I mean the-the woman in the library said no one had lived here for...no, but that's no excuse, I'm sorry, I-I'll just go-" "Shut up," Dark said calmly, having collected himself a bit, but still reeling from the shock. She nearly bit her lip to stop herself, looking down at the ground and clasping her hands behind her back again. God, the resemblance...how...? "Who are you, and what are you doing here?" "I-I'm Winnie Ford, sir, a-and I'm researching for a school project, about abandoned buildings-" "Don't lie to me." The stairs below him went grey, and Winnie's face paled, but he was too distracted to notice. Ford? Her name was Ford? "Why are you here?" He repeated, more quietly. The air seemed to buzz between them. "I...I..." She seemed to be looking for an escape, but sighed as she found none, standing up a little straighter, as if to accept her fate. The confidence is impressive. No. Stop that. "I'm looking for information about my parents." She said it with false calm, the illusion of which was shattered as she retreated a few steps into the room as Dark descended the stairs and approached her. She bumped into the wall behind her, still trying to appear casual. "And why would you come here for that?" "Because this was the last place they were seen alive." He froze. Something must have registered in his face, becaues the girl frowned at him. "You...you live here, don't you? Do you...do you know what happened?" "What happened in 2017. The poker party." "Yes," she said, nodding slowly, taking a step closer. He flinched and she reflexively stepped back. "Yes, so you do know about that." He couldn't seem to move. "Your parents were...there, that night?" "So the newspapers say. So the orphanage said." "My god..." The voice coming out of his mouth was one he hadn't used in a very long time. He hadn't known he could use it anymore, hadn't known that the feelings now exploding in his chest, could still exist within this corpse of his. "Did...did you know them?" "I...no." He glanced over at the mirror, then back up at the stairs, then looked back at her, barely able to hold himself together. Being here, seeing her, it was too much, he wasn't going to be able to sustain himself, he should leave, shut down these feelings, eliminate the cause of them...no, that thought made a spike of pain shoot through his chest, and he gripped the table suddenly. Winnie took a few steps toward him, moving as if to put her hand on his arm. "Are you-?" "Don't," he said harshly, and she stopped, still looking concerned. She was stood right on the edge of his aura, couldn't she see it? If she touched it...but why did he care? "Don't...don't touch me. Don't come any closer. Please." The word sounded awkward, unfamiliar on this tongue. "Okay...Alright, I won't." Her tone was one you would use with a wounded animal. She's not afraid of me. Yes, she is. Shut up. "What do you know?" She leaned against the wall again, still trying to look casual. Why was he relieved when she stepped away? "Well...I know my mother's name was Celine Noir. But I don't know who my father was. That's the only name the orphanage had on file, and," she quirked a small smile, "that was hard enough to find. I was some kind of cover up, apparently." His eyes were blown wide, he could see them in the mirror, he could feel it. One hand twitched toward her, and he could see himself touching her face, cradling it, hugging her tightly and not having to lose them all over again. He could see himself taking her back with him away from this house, he could see Wil seeing her, coming back to him, he could see himself and this young girl and his best friend, a family once more, remembering, moving on, forgetting this place, forgetting what...what he'd... What he was. It came rushing back to him, but...but for this brief moment, he was still himself. He was here, and he was looking at her, and she looked so much like her mother, stood like her father, and god he missed them so much. Suddenly, he was talking, before he could stop himself. Stupid, stupid boy, what are you doing? "Your father's name was William Ford. You're a bastard, that's why she gave you up. She hated herself for it, wanted desperately to keep you, but..." But Mark, when he found out he wasn't the father, went berserk, nearly killed Will right then and there, if he hadn't stopped him... He took an unnecessary, deep breath. She was staring at him, the bluntness of his answer apparently surprising her. "William Ford...that's where the last name comes from, I guess. I wondered about that, why it wasn't Fischbach..." "No...no, she'd never let you take his name." Why were his eyes stinging? They shouldn't be able to do that anymore. "What...happened to him? To both of them?" Her voice was very quiet, but god she sounded just like Celine. "Who are you?" "I'm...not important." He took a few steps back. He couldn't be here anymore. "You should go. Get away from here." Get away from me. "But-" "Get. Out." He spoke quietly but the glass divider nearby cracked loudly. It didn't seem to phase the girl. "You haven't told me who you-" "You don't need to know that." She frowned, giving him a determined look. "Yes. I do. I want to know what the hell is going on. I want to know who I am. I want to know who you are." She put her hand on the table, it was too close to his, the grey was touching her fingertips. "At least tell me your name." He stared at the hand, trying desperately to pull his aura back into himself, but it wasn't easy to control when his emotions flared up, and it hadn't happened in so long he had nearly forgotten how. His eyes slowly moved to meet hers properly for the first time, and... He was face to face with a teenage boy with a goofy grin and a gun license and a draft haircut, asking this stupid kid with a sweater vest and too many political science books on the table in front of him in the lunchroom why he was sat on his own. He was looking at his sister as she asked him for help, tears in her eyes, she was begging him not to let Mark find out, one hand on her stomach, where a bulge would soon grow. He was looking at this girl, maybe twenty years old, who'd grown up in an orphanage, never knowing anything but her own name and her mother’s, and never even knowing her father’s name, who had his confidence and her smile and god, she even looked a bit like him, and his mouth was opening without his consent. "Damien." She smiled, a little confused. "Damien." Why did that name sound so natural in her voice? "Well, it's...it's nice to meet you." She offered him her hand again. Why was his hand moving toward hers? He stopped it, pulling it back sharply as he retreated. "You should go." "But..." "Winnie...I...you need to leave this place, it's..." Not safe. He was here. "It's not where you need to be. You need to go. I've told you all I can." His voice dropped in volume, but not the same way it usually does. This time, there was only one layer, and he sounded so much like...himself. "Please go." He wasn't sure what she heard in his voice, but it seemed to convince her. Maybe she was finally noticing his aura, maybe she was too afraid to stay with him any longer. She stepped toward the door. Pulled the handle. Took a step. Looked back over her shoulder. "It really was good to meet you, Damien." She had more questions than answers, he knew. She'd probably be back to this place. Her little frown, and the look in her eyes...he remembered seeing that look on another young girl's face. "You know, there's something terribly familiar about you." He didn't answer. Instead, he turned back to the stairs, and climbed back up them, and it was as if he were stepping back in time. He heard the door slam behind him, and paused. He was alone again. "It was nice to meet you, Winnie." But there was no one to hear the darkness return to his voice. No one to witness as he left this place, empty again.

(It’s really cool! I hope it snows for you!) Oh I loved those, they were so funny!

^u^

So I wrote and recorded a brief horror story. Lemme know what you think?