Latest Posts by likepuppetsonastring - Page 8

Mini Theory/Observation

So we all know Mark’s profile pictures have been blacking out, right? And today, we lost YouTube to the darkness.

But some eagle eyed fans decided to investigate this pic, and they found:

That there’s a face, and in some of the better image brightening/inversions, people noticed

That face is this image. Mark’s old profile picture, from his original channel.

So what’s the significance here? I can only guess that it means that we’re going to see something/someone that’s classically Mark. Maybe it’s another hint at old horror games being the theme, like in the latest photo.

And Another One!

And with that, we have Day 1!

Source: Mark’s tumblr

When you brighten this one up, there’s a looot to talk about, so let’s do that:

No. 1: “Kill”, apparently an omnipresent now. I’m almost sure at this point we’re dealing with Google, at least in some capacity.

No. 2: That’s the same floor as the last picture, which I assumed was a kitchen floor in my last post, but apparently it’s just the normal floor of the foyer. So again, same location. This is all taking place in one house/mansion/castle/thing.

No. 3: The light from this lamp drew my eyes immediately, with it’s red-and-blue tinge, a calling sign of Darkiplier. Coincidence? I highly doubt it.

No. 4: The statues. They look very typical of what we see in horror games, so is this a nod to Amnesia and others like it? Is it a hint that we’re getting a sort of horror game in the coming video? Or are they simply fortunate decorations? Whatever the case, the owner of this mansion is definitely rich and powerful. Is it Dark? Maybe the Host?

No. 5: Timestamp. Again, real time, and happening at 1 am. So all of these pictures were taking approximately 24 hours apart, and then released exactly 24 hours apart. This is a ransom note, and we’re the ransom. To save Mark, we’re going to have to travel here.

If Mark’s posted anything on youtube, or anywhere else, I don’t know it yet. Please enlighten me. And I’m so curious as to what you guys think is happening. Does this new picture change your thoughts, or add to them? Have I missed anything you see? Do you see anything differently than I do? Talk to me! I’m so excited about this, and I’m having so much fun.

(Tiny lil drabble bc excited and this art is cool.)

The figure at the computer smiled as the door opened, not bothering to look over his shoulder as he spoke, swiping a hand up to scroll through the mess of posts floating in the air in front of him. “The tag is absolutely consumed, with production of new material at a staggering rate. I won’t bore you with numbers, but they’ve responded exactly as predicted.” “Of course they have,” the voice behind him said. “You’ve made quite a mess of their little...community. I must say, I’m impressed.” “It was your plan. I am simply the executor.” There was a rare, surprised huff of laughter. “Was that a play on words?” “Don’t tell Wilford,” Google said seriously, finally turning to look at Dark, who chuckled quietly. “Your secret is safe with me.” He took a few steps closer, dropping a monochrome hand on the android’s shoulder. “And again, well done. You’ve been a useful program.” “I live to serve.” “And the others?” “In position.” “Then we have only to wait.” His eyes narrowed, the faint smile on his face growing slightly as he scanned the screen.

“Who killed Markiplier, indeed?”

well… who was it…?

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.

More Theory Time!

Mark’s done it again! A new hint pic has dropped!

Source: Mark’s Tumblr

Previous post here.

So again, brightened and with things pointed out:

Let’s talk.

No. 1: Where are we now? Looks like we’re in the same house, but perhaps in the kitchen, or, more specifically, on the stairs leading into the kitchen (Note the banister in the bottom right). Seems that at the bottom of the stairs is a table or a desk, with papers on it and something else that I can’t make out. Why are we seeing this location? Is this going to be something like Clue, with multiple locations and a mystery to solve? (If so, YES PLEASE)

No. 2: “Kill” is back, fainter this time. Noting the security style, some people have theorized that we’re going to get something like a Five Nights At Markiplier’s, which while a cool idea, I don’t think is happening. No, I think this is more likely a hint at Google being involved.

No. 3: “Little Buddy.” This is still puzzling to me. Why name it “Little Buddy”? Who is the buddy?

No. 4: The timestamp. Again, this is happening in real time, so this was the early hours of this morning, the eighth, again at 1 am. Why 1 am? Just for a late hour? Or is this a hint? If so, to what?

I am loving this. Let me know what you guys are thinking! What else have you noticed about this pic, and the others? What about the new facebook blackout? What do you think the letters on instagram mean? And do you want me to put together a cohesive theory? There are so many unanswered questions!

@justsamantha19 mentioned this on my post and I thought I’d reblog it here.

Interesting...

Okay guys. I tried posting this once for some reason it didn’t go on but I played around with the picture.

All I did was lighten the picture in my regular phone settings then I took it into VSCO cam and darkened it and turned the contrast, saturation and clarity all the way up. And here’s the final product.

So here’s my theory. The mark in the picture isn’t Dark but Dark is in the room. The red and blue is his light reflecting on the window, because you can see it on “Mark’s” face and the mysterious figure’ shoulder. Dark has teamed up with another ego.

It’s Theory Time Again!

Mark is hinting at us again and it’s interesting and there’s a lot to dissect so in this post I’m just gonna worry about the two pictures he’s posted on tumblr.

So, here on the good old Hell Hole Site, Mark’s dropped some cryptic images:

Image 1:

Image 2:

Source: Mark’s tumblr

THEORIES AND DISCUSSION UNDER THE CUT BECAUSE THERE’S A LOT GOING ON HERE!

Let’s take a look at the first picture, brightened (Turning highlights to 100% and Fill Light to 100%) and with a couple of things pointed out:

So, discussing in order:

No. 1: It clearly says “Kill” next to “Security Mode”. What/Who is getting killed, and what/who is doing the killing? Initially, I was leaning toward it being Mark on the receiving end and Dark/Will doing the deed. I’ll explain why this thought changed later.

No. 2: Where are we? It looks to be the livingroom/den of a large, wealthy estate, given the marble fireplace and generally elegant trimmings of the room. So the castle that they were filming at in “secret” a while ago? If so, why? Why are we seeing this opulent room, and, possibly more importantly, who’s estate is this?

No. 3: What is that on the table? This might be completely unimportant, but it looked out of place to me.

No. 4: “Designation: Little Buddy.” Now, in the past, Mark has always referred to Tiny Box Tim as his Little Biscuit, and his Little Buddy. So what does TBT have to do with this room? Or, alternatively, who is this “little buddy”? Whose “buddy” is it?

Moving on now to the second image, with the same conditions applied as the first:

Again, discussing in order:

No. 1: Again, we have “Little Buddy” as the designation. Is this a code name? If so, for what operation?

No. 2: Who is the figure on the left? As far as I can see, he’s wearing a trench coat and a deerstalker, lending him a Sherlockian image, which could hint at this being a murder mystery. If that’s the case, then this is our detective, but who is he?

No. 3: Who is the figure on the right? It looks like he’s wearing a suit (or possibly a leather jacket, though I’m not sure why he would be), has something over/on his eyes, and has gelled hair. I’m thinking this is possibly the Host back when he was the Author, which implies that we’re getting a backstory on how he became the Host and lost his sight (WHICH I WOULD LOVE). Another possibility is that this is Dark, but, as some other lovely theorizers have pointed out, his hair is not parted toward us, on the left, as is Dark’s signature. The last possibility is that this is someone new, and if that’s the case, I’m not sure what to tell you other than I’m excited.

No. 4: They’re shaking hands, which could mean a couple of things.First, it could mean that these figures are meeting for the first time, but that has a couple of problems that I’ll discuss in a second. Second, it could mean that they’re making some sort of deal, which seems more likely to me, as Right appears to be smiling, as if he’s gotten something good out of it.

No. 5: The date and time. 1;17am. Why are they meeting so early in the morning? This is my main objection to the idea that this is a first meeting, or that these two don’t know each other. Obviously, this has been set up ahead of time. And the date, October 7th, is today. So this meeting happened today, in the early hours of this morning. What would be so urgent that two people (apparent people?) would need to meet behind closed doors (as suggested by the fact that we’re seeing this through blinds, as if the subjects don’t know they’re being photographed) at one in the morning? This suggests some underhanded deal is happening, something sinister.

Given all of the information these two pics give us, I’ve drawn a couple of conclusions:

1. This is a story about The Host.

2. This story is currently happening, in real time with the clues being given.

3. This story is about a deal (Code-named Little Buddy?), possibly a deal gone wrong, that happen to someone in a position of wealth and/or power. Hence, 

4. The Host was once the rich Author, and made some kind of deal that resulted in the loss of his sight/eyes and his siding with/serving Dark.

But again, this is all speculation based on the two images Mark put on tumblr. This doesn’t even take into account the Instagram posts or the twitter video, or the black-outs of the profile pictures on Twitter, Tumblr, and Insta. If you guys want me to look into those, I can do that too in another post. Let me know what you think about these pictures and my theories, I’m super curious! And on top of that, I’m having a great time Sherlocking my way through all these hints, and I’m excited to see what happens next. So until we find out, remember,

THAT’S...JUST A THEORY.

Echoes (A Middle-of-the-Night Drabble)

Frisk thought they had never seen anything as beautiful as an Echo Flower. It looked almost as if it were a negative image of a sunflower, the colors reversed and strangely fluorescent, blues and whites that seemed to light up the dark marsh around them, otherworldly and wonderful, in the original sense of the word. Their appearance wasn’t even the strangest part of them however. Frisk swore, as they walked past, they heard one of the funny plants talk.

Now, given their previous encounter with talking flowers had been not altogether pleasant, Frisk was understandably cautious about getting too close to the whispering blooms. But Sans had mentioned Echo Flowers, back in Snowdin, and they thought perhaps their caution was unfounded, and that perhaps the echoes might be worth listening to. They had always been a supremely curious child, anyway. So they took a cautious step closer to the nearest flower.

It was surprisingly hard to get to, surrounded by so much vegetation and growth that Frisk was led to believe that it had been a very long time since anyone had stood close to the flower at all. This assumption was reinforced by the faintness of the recording, but it was not impossible to understand what was being said. A young voice spoke up first, the sound of splashing footsteps suggesting two small monsters were passing at the time of the recording. “They say you can make a wish on echo flowers. What’s your wish?” It was hard to tell whether the voice was male or female. Perhaps it was neither, mused Frisk with a chuckle. They wandered on to the next plant, mimicking the long-forgotten conversationalists’ path. “I...don’t wanna tell.” This voice sounded as if it’d come from a young boy. He seemed to be afraid of something. Apparently the other voice had surmised this as well, because they promptly asked what it was he was afraid of. Frisk continued to the next plant, fancying they could see two ghostly figures walking in front of them. In their fantasy, the two figures were silent until they reached the next plant, a few feet down the marsh. “I’m afraid you’ll laugh at me.” “I promise I won’t!” the first voice assured the boy, and in Frisk’s mind, they could practically see the child clap the shoulder of the other confidently. Frisk smiled as they imagined the first voice as a human, like themselves, striped sweater and all. The other, a monster child, Frisk decided, sighed and looked away. “Alright.” He paused for a long moment. “My wish is to see the stars.” The human child seemed to nod, and smile. This turned into a small laugh as they reached the next flower. Another, further on, had the monster child, who had white fur, Frisk thought, annoyed, saying “You promised you wouldn’t laugh!” “Sorry,” the first child said, still smiling, “It’s just funny.” “What?” Frisk seemed to watch them round the corner as the conversation drew to a close, and they ran out of echo flowers. “That’s my wish, too.”

Frisk felt oddly sad, hearing the end of that conversation. It felt faintly familiar to them, as if they’d heard it on some TV show they’d loved when they were younger, barely remembered. But they were sure they’d never heard it before, and wondered at the image they’d seen, the fantasy they’d drawn up. It’d seemed so real, the children seeming like they’d come to life with their voices barely echoed back by the flowers that’d lived up to their names. Had they really imagined it all? Who knew? This whole place was full of magic and strange life. Perhaps more than just their voices had been caught, frozen in time by this strange place.

So um, why when I heard this did I get an idea?

Dark hears something funny, or he sees something silly happen. Maybe Wilford actually makes a good joke for once.

He’s never laughed before, in his home dimension, or whatever, and suddenly finds this thing extremely funny one day, but doesn’t know what’s happening. His body/shell didn’t know how to react, so it recreates Mark’s laugh, and he just can’t stop,he laughs and laughs until his lungs burn and his sides have stitches. But he thinks something’s wrong with him, and it’s the only thing to have actually scared him, ever. 

He’s not used to positive emotions at all, other than perhaps pride or satisfaction with a scheme well carried out, and so has never found anything amusing in this way before. Sure, he’s chuckled darkly and been mildly amused by others’ stupidity, but he’s never found anything truly funny before this moment, and he’s never fully, properly, uncontrollably laughed at anything. The feeling is just an antithesis of everything he is, too positive and good and innocent, and he hates it.

best quality: his giggles

quick question why tf did i make this

please give me audio edit requests or something i can’t live like this

all i can think of is a vampire stopping suddenly in front of a mirror in a store, and their human friend, who isn’t aware of their condition, just gets very confused.

“Craig? You good? Why are you staring at yourself like that? ...Dude you’re crying, are you okay?”

And the vampire is just crying bc it’s bittersweet. They look just like they remember looking, but now they’re so pale and their hair is so different and the clothes don’t match the face anymore, and it suddenly makes them realize how very old they are, and how very alone.

Fun Vampire Fact; the reason that Vampires traditionally cannot see their reflections in a mirror is because mirrors used to be backed with a reflective layer of silver — which, as the metal of purity, would not ‘interact’ with Vampires, who are the Devil’s work.

However, modern mirrors have used aluminum as their reflective backing for many years now — and aluminum is not a ‘picky’ metal at all. So Vampires are able to see their reflections in modern mirrors.

Thanks for the recent love on my Anti theories, and on my Schneep story. You guys are so sweet. :)

So @fear-is-nameless made this post, wondering about the whisper after Anti says “weak.”

I did a little fooling around on Audacity. The first part of this clip is the audio from that post. The next part, I isolated the whisper and slowed it down to .75x speed. The last part, I isolated the vocals from that.

Doesn’t it almost sound like “until he’s there”?

The Good Doctor.

((A/N: TRIGGER WARNING FOR GORE AND NEEDLES!! Well, Anti made a reappearance, and now we have more lore. Specifically, about Schneeplestein! I was excited, so I thought I’d write a quick fic about the aftermath of Say Goodbye. Enjoy!))

"Oh god..." Henrik jerked into motion, nearly barreling over the table as he fell into place beside Jack, dropping his medical bag open on the floor beside him. The blood, oh god, the blood, there was so much of it. Snapping himself out of his shock, he scrambled through the bag with one hand as the other desperately tried to stem the flow of blood from the deep gash in his old friend's neck. "Where is it? Where is it?! Dammit...hold in there, Jack, just hold on...you don't get to die on me, no, no, no, not on the watch of Dr. Schneeplestein!" He glanced over at Jack, with half a weak smile as he nearly anticipated the usual laugh and eye-roll he'd get whenever he was as grandiose as that. But there was nothing, no flicker of life from the cold form. He jerked the needle, thread, and towel free of the bag and began desperately trying to stitch Jack's neck together and stop the blood at the same time. Where were his medicines to thicken blood? Where were his gauze and bandaging? Where was his antiseptic spray?

"DON'T YOU DIE ON ME!" Henrik's panic was getting the best of him now. He was working quickly, sloppily. There were moments where he thought he missed time passing, his sight seeming to skip from one second to the next. He almost thought he was...twitching. Nerves, it must be nerves. Jack was dying, right there in front of him, and he wasn't doing enough, he couldn't do enough, it ͞ẃa͡s̢ ͝n̡evèr͏ eno̕ug͢h.͠ He doubled over, twitching once, violently. He thought he heard a high-pitched ringing. Looking at his shaking hands, he thought for a second he saw them go around Jack's neck, as if to choke him. No, no that couldn't be right. He blinked, gasping, and saw his hands, jerked up beside him, nowhere near Jack at all. No. No, he couldn't lose it now. He couldn't lose control now, Jack needed him. Get it together, Doctor! The ringing got louder, and under it, some noise. Some...pattern. High, cold, uneven...almost like a laugh. Henrik shook his head.

Ĝ͈ͥͥͨ́ͮ͒õ̳̰̣͕͔̼ͦ̄̓̾ȭ͎̩̦͓̱̣̟d̬̪̝͕͔̤̣͌̎ͪͩ ͙̞̜̜̱̜̽̿͛́ḍ̞̣͉̞̯͋͛ö͕̤̬͕͕͈ͬc̹̘͙͚̗̥͍̕t̶̰̯ͯ̓̊̇̋̓͌o̧͉̘͚̻͌̌̄̎͋͐r͍͕̗̼̤̯̹͋.̇͛̓͘.̺̖͖͈́ͧ͒ͣ.͔̩̼͓̗͙͙ͤ̇͐̚y̵̗͖̱̘̝̻ͣo̩̯̼̫̠͕̖ͣ̇ͩ́̔̇ͫú͔̳͇̥̪̞̦̾͊̇ ͖̹͎̆̂̑̇̏̍̕c̗̞͈̻ͭ͐̐̎̋̽̚oͨu͔͠l̊͛̾̉̌҉̥͈͎͎͓̩d̻͗̇̈ ͙̝̫͇͂̏ͪ̚b̸͐̿ͪe ̦͓̳̥̮͛͑͘f̻͇͔̱̘͕̊ͩ̑̅̓͆̓u̩n͓̚.̔̓̈́ͮͩͤ̚.̖͉ͭͩ́.̪͇̖̗̀ͮ̒̉̆͛ͣͅ

"No. No, no, no," he muttered, covering his ears with his hands. How could he be losing control at a time like this? He had never been prone to panic attacks, why now, of all times? Perhaps it was insanity? People had always said he was on the verge of it. He shook his head. No. He needed his mind clear to help Jack, he needed to stop the bleeding...the bleeding...

The bleeding had stopped. Henrik stared, uncomprehending. He checked for a pulse. There was no way... He felt one. Very, very faint, but present. Jack was alive.

Jack woke up, only hours later, and seemed to feel no ill effects, other than being a bit weak. He didn't seem to even remember what had happened. When he asked the doctor, he couldn't bring himself to tell, so instead, he made up some cock-and-bull story about pumpkin fumes knocking him out. It was a very weak reason, and clearly, Jack didn't believe him, but he didn't question it. Even when later, he looked in the mirror and saw the red stains on his neck. Even when he saw the blood on the carpet, and in the carved pumpkin he didn't remember finishing.

Dr. Schneeplestein never mentioned the "panic attack". He never talked about what had really happened. He never talked about the voice.

Neither of them wanted to think about what had done it...and how that thing was still out there. Neither wanted to think about when he might come back.

Anti and Flowey.

Can I just point out that I very much love the parallels between Anti and Flowey from Undertale?

Firstly, aesthetically, Anti and Flowey’s voices (as deigned by Jack) are very similar: high, raspy, constantly jumping or glitching.

Secondly, they speak in very similar patterns. They both constantly talk about power, control, and the weakness/powerlessness of their audience.

“This world is mine!” -Anti “I am the GOD of this world!” -Flowey

“Over, and over, and over!” -Both, in the same tone of voice (according to Jack, anyway)

Both of them are apparently soulless, very violent and sadistic, and they love to play with their audience (Flowey through false friendship and betrayal, Anti through glitching in and out at random and leaving cryptic messages). To them, everything is a game, and they want desperately to be in ultimate control.

But it makes me wonder...

(SPOILERS FOR THE END OF UNDERTALE)

Flowey is a more-or-less corrupted version of Asriel. In the end of the game, in a pacifist run, you might not be able to save him directly, but you remind him what it felt like to feel. If you open the game again after the True Ending, it’s Flowey that appears to ask you, beg you not to reset the game again, because he wants to remember how to feel. He wants the others to be happy.

if Flowey could be saved...could Anti? Taking it even further than that, could Anti be in a similar situation to Flowey?

Is he a corrupted Ego, perhaps one we forgot existed? Who could that be? And is there a way to save him?

Side note: I love that Anti said “There are no strings on me!” Makes me love my url even more than I already did. Gives it a nice fandom touch. :)

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.))

Dark was the first demon he ever encountered. He was possessed, and attacked a close friend, who survived only because Mark was just strong enough to fight the demon down long enough to call an exorcist.

He started training immediately, because he knew that Dark wasn’t done with him.

Tyler is the first to join his team, the other apprentice to Mark’s teacher and quickly one of Mark’s best friends. He’s better with the actual written rites themselves, while Mark is good at the symbols and the methods.

Kathryn’s good at recognizing demon types quickly, having studied them as a hobby until one of her friends summoned one by accident. The boys were passing through town and helped her get rid of it. She joined them after that.

Amy was next, and is fantastic at painting devil’s traps and symbols. She can recognize symbols almost instantly, and is excellent at recognizing traps. That’s how she saved Mark’s life on a case at her college. He asked her out, stumbling over his words and dropping a Bible at her feet in his clumsiness.

Ethan joined last, having read about Mark’s group of exorcists online and shooting him a message. He’s got a lot to learn but picks everything up quickly, never panicking on a case. He usually stays with the families that they’re protecting.

Jack was their first international case. And Mark nearly ruined everything when he was first faced with Anti. He stumbled over the words of the exorcism, and it Tyler hadn’t been there to take over, everyone would’ve been in big trouble. Jack was unhurt by the possession, and agreed to keep an eye on things across the pond, with help from his buddy Robin (who quickly became an exorcist because he thought it was cool).

No one asked Mark what had frightened him so much about Anti. No one needed to.

There was only one thing that terrified him that much. And Anti was an all too familiar being.

j’s other aesthetics.

Mark as an exorcist.

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.

Not Exactly A Fic

But basically an idea. From this lovely video by Editing Is Everything (who I LOVE): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zhbZ-qQIunk

SO! Following the idea set in the description, I thought I’d put together a playlist for this musical. Feel free to edit and add to this, I just thought it would work for telling the story a little bit.

Act 1

1: Sick of Losing Soulmates (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mHUIoikgKT0&list=PL36142F51F19698FC&index=12)

2: Tourist (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8B80XV7Ndt8&list=PL1T1SwRfufApqfPnpOQ6z1Z320_n66E5f&index=1)

3: Human (But imagine like...Jon is flashing back to when he and Dodie first dated) (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LL8tyObkRvk&index=8&list=PL36142F51F19698FC)5:

4:  a love song/a non love song (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fcYJA8qvW7k)

5:  Birds (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xvlSVDiSnrI)

6:   Absolutely Smitten (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0TAJwGniuUs&index=26&list=PL36142F51F19698FC)

Act 2

7:   Would You Be So Kind? (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8Ypnr33sEmg&list=PL36142F51F19698FC&index=7)

8:   Waving Through a Window (But with Jon instead of Ben, though Ben is lovely, he doesn’t fit) (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bstxfxXN6qA)

9:   Dear Happy (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xQVXm-imzoA)

10:  Stitches (with kind of a sad acceptance more than any kind of trying to get her back) (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nEcyghKk0ok)

11:    I want to Fall in love with (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=th393UBVSMY&index=21&list=PLUcJ_HmO2bE8pXBA6rpczccmB4od8hGKD)

Dark Side Headcanons: Markiplier Edition.

Welp, You guys really seemed to like my headcanons before, so I thought I’d hit you with what I think of some of the many Iplier incarnations.

-First off, the inimitable Wilford Warfstache himself. He’s something of the supernatural persuasion, a genie or a djinn or a minor demon of some description who happens to entertain himself in his eternal existence by messing with people. He’s not evil, necessarily, he’s just amoral, which means he lacks a sense of right and wrong. He’s guided by a sense of fun, doing whatever keeps his boredom at bay. For a while, that was trying to pass as a human reporter, going after wild stories that no one else could for fear of dying. This was fine until a passing affair he was having with an associate’s wife went wrong and he ended up murdering not only his “lover”, but the associate, their neighbor, the dog, and a policeman before he “died”, ie, faked his death to avoid further complications. He continued his show after using some minor magic and a proper amount of time to erase any connection he had to the murders, but that quickly went wrong again when he defeated an “indestructible” animatronic, and committing yet another murder, this time of a more famous victim (Mark, more on his similarities to Mark later). He was forced to reverse this particular murder (He’s very strong, but doesn’t care to use his powers, as it’s more annoying than useful in a lot of cases. He likes getting his hands dirty), and decided that he was finished being in the spotlight for now, simply reveling in the growing fan base he had. Side note: The fact that he looks like Mark was actually a coincidence that he finds hilarious. He’d simply picked a generic male look and gone with it, deciding it wasn’t interesting enough without the pink mustache. He still thinks Mark looks quite boring, but thought their identical appearances were intriguing enough to interview him about, wondering if he could perhaps kill Mark and take his place, just for shits and giggles (that didn’t turn out well; people liked Mark far too much and studied him far too closely for it to be and easy switch, and Wilford’s all about convolution but not over-extension. All theatrics, basic effort.)

-I’ve already talked a lot about Dark, so I think it’s best to leave well enough alone with his personality. As to how he interacts with the others...he tries not to. Dark is a solo agent, with no associates, only pawns and tools. Google is an exception, but more on that next.

-GOOGLE! Google is one of my favorites. I’ve done a little bit of theory work already on this post, but to recap: Google is an android, created by either Dark or Wilf, more likely Dark, whose primary objective is to “serve” people, but secondary objective is to destroy them as chaotically and painfully as possible. He’s beyond intelligent and unfeeling, other than basic satisfaction in completing an objective or getting closer to one. Unfortunately, his programming is so specific that he’s easily thwarted. But don’t let that fool you: he’s clever. Like, kill you in your sleep clever. What very few people know is that it would be possible to reprogram Google to be a good guy, but you’d have to figure out how to deactivate him first, and good luck getting that close without dying.

-I’m not gonna touch on Yandereplier other than to say I have no fucking idea what that’s all about. Anybody got any theories you wanna share with me?

-The Author. Now, this is an old one, only used in like two videos, but it’s one of my favorite characters of Mark’s. He’s half human, half something else, a bit like Wilford, a genie, a djinn, a demon, etc, which means that he has certain powers but only a limited capacity in which to use them, ie, to bring his writing to life (Or, warp reality). He just wants to write a good story, but unfortunately, he has no regard for the well being of others. He doesn’t care who or what he has to step on to get that perfect ending, and unfortunately, he’s more Poe than Carol in style. The darker, the better. Could he be Dark’s son? Who knows?

Can we talk about how well this Coraline-”Mother”-esk style compliments Dark’s canon characteristics? A manipulator who will make everything “perfect” for you in order to get you to do what he wants, in return for a “small” concession (ie, letting him in, as opposed to the eye-sewing thing).

Also I just really love this art style.

You could stay here forever . . .i͚͑́͛̓̃͝f̎̓͆̀̔̄̕ y̡̙̙̪̻͆̇̾͒͢͝o̰̍̀̈́̀͠ͅǘ̵͍̭͙͉̻͒̔̃̈̉̈́̚ ẘ̛̰͔̖̥̙̍͋͐̑͑̌̚͢͡ȁ̱͓̳̬̘͓̓͆̈̂̀n̉̒͡t́̄̔͂͗ ť̺͙̠̠͍͆̔̎̄̇͟͢o̴̬̪͖̘̍͂̂̀͝ͅͅ .̨̢̡̭͍̤̦̬̞̺̽͗͆̔̆͂̈́̕ .̷̡̡̞̘̱͉̪̱͚̍͗͂͑̈́̚͘͝

(sorry for the nightmares.)

URL Change!

Much as I still love Doctor Who and Tenny and the gang, my writing has taken a different turn as of late, into the dark and slightly deranged. Don’t worry! I’m still doing fluffy stuff sometimes and all that, and I’m still open to requests for my fandoms! But I’m afraid skinnyscottishblokeaddict simply doesn’t fit anymore.

SO!

Now, it’s likepuppetsonastring.tumblr.com!

Again, no content change, just a blog makeover with the maturing of my writing. :)

Find below a list of fandoms I write for, if you’re interested:

-Doctor Who, RTD era and Eleven -Supernatural, up to season 11 -Sherlock -Undertale -Disney -Youtube/Dark Side of Youtube (JSE, Markiplier, Crankgameplays, D&P, KickthePJ) (NOTE: I DO NOT WRITE SHIPPING FICS OF REAL PEOPLE. I WRITE THE CHARACTERS FROM THE CHANNELS, NOT THE PEOPLE THEMSELVES.)

I’ve got a couple of limits on shipping and topics, but not enough to do a full list out of them, so if you’re concerned, just message me. Other than that, fair game! :)

Hello children it’s theory time!

So I’m thinking that there are two main aspects: hardware and software. A robot powered by a virus.

First: hardware. Googleplier is an android, ie a humanoid robot. He happens to be shaped after Mark for some reason. I’ve yet to work out who his creator would be, as he’s clearly not a licensed Google product, no matter the packaging.

Second: software. Now this is the interesting part, because this is what we’re seeing in the video. Googleplier isn’t a normal computer program. He’s a virus that seeks to control and destroy. That’s why we get the blue screen of death and the quality dives when he shows up. He’s hacked his way into the video, and his glitchy appearance is because he has to fight to keep where he is, his program working double time to keep control and talk to us at the same time.

My biggest question, again, is who is the programmer behind him? Why’d they style him after Mark? I’m thinking it was either Dark or Wilford, with Wilford as more likely because he enjoys chaos, and clearly, so does Google. But it would be more in Dark’s nature to send in someone/thing like Google to mess with Mark, instead of always getting his hands dirty himself.

But that’s just a theory...A MARKIPLIER THEORY

THANKS FOR READING.

my hand slipped

But No One Came.

A/N: Guess who got into Undertale? And of course the first thing I write about it is an angsty Sans piece. So! This takes place in the early part of a genocide run. Enjoy!

"undyne...we've got a problem." Sans frowned a bit as he spoke into the phone. He stared up into the trees as he told her about the human...or what looked like one. Because, clearly that thing wasn't human. It wasn't a monster, either, though, which was the unsettling part. It was...nothing. Empty. It sent a shiver down his spine when he'd first seen it. But the woman behind the door had called it human, so he'd supposed... But then they were so cold, and silent. The look in their eyes... "yeah...yeah, we'll try. don't worry about paps," he half smiled, the looming purple door appearing at the end of the path, "I'll make sure he's not in the way of the fight. he's busy setting up a puzzle before waterfall, and they'll never get that far." He nodded. "yeah, you watch yourself too, 'dyne. i'll see ya when i see ya." He hung up and glanced up at the door. He could really use some cheering up...a joke or two never hurt anyone, and he could warn the old girl to take care of herself. He knocked a couple of times on the door. Nothing. Sans frowned again. That...never happened. She was always here. Maybe she'd gone to do something? He knocked again, harder this time. Again, there was no response. "lady? you there?" Nothing. Something felt heavy behind his ribs. Something was wrong. It was then that he spotted a track in the snow. It looked as if the snow had been pushed aside by the door opening...but...it was always locked. He'd tried again and again, but... He tried it now...the handle turned. The door was heavy, but he could move it. This didn't feel right.

"hello?" It was dark in here...silent. He walked for a long time, down a hall that looked darker and darker with every step, until he came to a doorway to a small room, with nothing in it but a patch of dying grass. The door on the other side was still open. He took a few cautious steps closer. It smelled a bit like...butterscotch? Or maybe cinnamon. The feeling he’d had when the door opened was getting worse with every step he took. "lady?" But then he saw something that made his bones go cold. A pile of dust lay in the middle of the room, with a footprint in the center of it. That thing... Was in Snowdin. Was heading for his brother.

He was running before he knew what he was doing. He passed through a doorway and suddenly he wasn't in the dark place anymore, but in Snowdin. "PAPYRUS!" There was no one around. No one, not a single monster. Even Monster Kid, the stupid child that he was, had finally wandered away. It was too quiet in his town, except for the unusually loud and frantic echo of his own voice. He didn’t know if he’d ever yelled like this, ever had every fiber of his being on as high alert as it was now. "DAMMIT, PAPS, WHERE ARE YOU?! ANSWER ME! PAPYRUS!" He wrenched open their front door and raced up the stairs, shoving Papyrus' door aside with a BANG. But he wasn't there. No, no, no, no, no... He turned and ran out the door, but instead of appearing on the landing, he was running down the path out of town. Papyrus had been working on something near Waterfall. Maybe he'd taken refuge. Maybe he'd found Undyne. Maybe...maybe... He skidded to a stop.

A red scarf had been kicked to the side of the road. There was scattered piles and smears of dust, not even enough for a proper burial. For a long moment he couldn't move. He couldn't make a sound. It couldn't be real, there was no way, he couldn't be...he wasn't...he wasn't... He was screaming, and there was beam after beam of power and light bombarding the ground, the trees, the sky, the rocky walls of the Waterfall entrance. The ground was shaking and he was screaming and everything was on fire. He came to his sense after a while, and the screaming cut out suddenly, turning into heavy breathing. And the heavy breathing became sobbing as he crumpled to the ground, clutching the scarf. He stopped himself eventually. Stood slowly. Shakily stuffed the scarf into one of his pockets, resting his hand on top of it. He stared around him at the carnage he'd wrought. Stupid, goody-two-shoes, stickler-for-the-rules, spaghetti-loving, pun-hating...wonderful Papyrus. The poor guy had tried to make friends with even this thing. He probably hadn’t even put up a fight at all. He’d probably spent his last breath believing that he could change them, make them good again... No. No more of that. There was only one thing in the world that was worth his energy now. No more breaks. It was time to end this.

@ask-thewhiphand tagged me, thanks love!

Rules: tag 9 people who you would like know better.

Relationship status: Single as hell, but pretty much okay with it. :)

Last song I listened to: Carry On Wayward Son by Kansas, and before that, probably Break Your Little Heart In Two by All Time Low

Favorite color: RED. Very much red.

Top three shows: Supernatural, Doctor Who, and Sherlock. Yes, I know, typical, but I love them. I watch more YouTube than TV though, and on here I love Scare Pewds, Game Lab, and Crash Course.

Top three characters: Oh dear lord...ah, right this second...probably...Asriel/Flowey (Undertale), the Tenth Doctor (DW), and Antisepticeye (JSE). I don't know! I love so many characters!

Top three ships: Johnlock, Tenrose, and Undyne/Alphys.

Tagging: @bookwyrm00, @super-septic-pewdie-plier, @lyssadee, @quirkyfandomimagines, @turquoisemagpie, @stupidscreennames, @jacksepticide, @alto-viola, @victoria-saenz

Containment Breach.

A/N: WARNING FOR BLOOD AND GORE MENTIONS. Back on the Anti hype train! I was playing with a photo editor and it sparked a story idea, so I thought I’d try writing something a little different, a little more environment based. Pulled a little bit of inspiration from RE7 as well, that game’s amazing.

It had to be one of her least favorite noises in the world, the heavy, scraping squeal of an old metal door opening for the first time in months, its hinges screaming in protest against the sudden, unexpected use after so long being forgotten.

The hallway before her was dark, extending deep into the side of the hill, entirely industrial except for the occasional tree root creeping through the cracked concrete walls and floor. She flicked on her flashlight, sweeping it cautiously across from wall to wall before stepping inside, pushing the door to behind her, but being careful not to close it. She didn’t want to be trapped in here. Her footsteps were deafeningly loud in her ears, echoing in the small space as she walked, peeking into rooms with doors thrown open and hanging from their hinges, quickly making her way past one that had its door closed, and a menacing dark stain seeping out from under it. The hall ended abruptly in an elevator. The doors to it sent chills down her spine. They looked as if they were clipping through the walls beside them, as in a poorly crafted video game map. And they were splattered red, from rust...and from something much worse.

Swallowing the lump that was forming in her throat, she moved to look inside. There wasn’t much to see. The elevator itself wasn’t there, just the gaping maw of the shaft, a black hole reaching down like an abyss, bottomless. Shining her light on the walls, she could see what looked like burn marks, or skid marks, or both, and severe dents like impact sights. Something had fought its way out of this place. She made a slight noise of annoyance, crawling into the shaft and climbing down the cables as carefully as she could. One misstep and she would be joining the rest of the staff of this place, adding a new layer of paint to the bottom of the pit, she thought bitterly. It almost seemed like she was descending forever, passing floor after floor, her arms and legs beginning to ache horribly. She had to focus on her reason for being here, ignoring how tired she was becoming, occasionally looking down to remind herself of her reason to hang on. Finally, her flashlight’s beam bounced off of the metal paneling of the floor she’d been looking for. She swung in and...thud. Her landing echoed dully on the once-pristine tile. It was more of the same, down here. But so much more intense. Here, it seemed, was the origin point of the destruction. The floor was littered with broken bits of piping from the lines rusting away from the walls, and the fluorescent lights that’d once kept this place starkly lit were dangling by their wires so that she had to duck to move safely. And the further in she went, the more there seemed to be broken parts of reality, pixelated patches of wall that seemed to have been paused mid-glitch, holes as if there were textures missing. The thought of a broken game map came to her mind again. But worse than the bizarre, mind-bending physics...blood stained the hall, in splatters on the walls, in drips and puddles long dried on the floor, and, in a few places, in sprays on the ceiling. As she reached the end of the hall, she found a sign, half hanging on the wall.

<- SHORT TERM HOLDING <- BRIEFING ROOMS     TESTING ->     LONG TERM HOLDING ->

As she turned toward the hall, she thought she caught a glimpse of something in the hall behind her. Something that looked markedly like green eyes and a scruff of...green hair? She turned back quickly to look, but it was gone. Deciding she’d rather not see it, she hurried along to the right-hand hall.

She came to a set of stairs, descending even deeper into the belly of the beast, until she came to another hall, this one’s floor covered in the powdered remains of the glass that’d once made up the foot-thick walls of the facility’s testing rooms. She glanced into the first room. A broken table, half of it seeming to clip through the floor, shattered microphone pieces, something that looked like it might once have held test tubes and syringes, shredded leather strapping. More blood. It was much the same in the other rooms, twisted restraining chairs, equipment that looked purposefully, furiously dismantled, shredded paper that might once have held records. Glitches in reality. Everywhere, there was more blood. In the last room, she nearly screamed. A body, the first she’d seen here. It was face down on the ground, a pool of dried blood and something that was such a dark green it was nearly black spilling from its nearly severed-in-half neck, the gore and incredible stench of which was nearly enough to make her sick right then and there. Its limbs were twisted at impossible angles, so that it looked as if the poor bastard had been slammed around before finally skidding to a stop here. Regretfully, she pulled out her phone, the flash of it snapping a picture of the scene almost blinding her. They’d want to know about this, to arrange to have his remains retrieved. She hoped they would, anyway. Heartless as they were, he’d probably rot away down here with the rest of the facility. Forgotten, just like they want this place to be. Still...better to try.

Stepping back out into the hall, she pushed open the heavy door, whose keypad lock was hanging by one wire. Maximum security, huh. Much good it did them. She smiled bitterly. This hall looked nearly untouched, deathly still. The doors to all of the cells were closed, and she still had the sense that she needed to stay back from them, that dangerous creatures were lurking just behind them even though there was no noise to be heard. Nothing would’ve survived on this level, she knew. But still she felt unsafe.

The last cell was wide open, the door on the ground, a twisted lump that was barely recognizable. She felt as if she were walking into it in slow motion. It was so...standard. A bed, minimal as taxpayer money could buy. A steel toilet adhered to the wall, with a small steel sink beside it and a rack with two pristine, cheap white towels. On the bed, though, was a file folder. She walked over slowly, picking it up and putting the flashlight awkwardly into the crook of her neck so that she could open it. A picture fluttered out, and she shone her light where it lay on the floor.

The label was hard to read, faded and peeling.

Subject #4NT1 Name: Sean William McLoughlin AKA: Jack, Jacksepticeye DOB: Feb. 7, 1990 Originates From: Ireland Duration of stay: Indefinite

On the back of the picture were a few scribbled lines of writing.

Subject complains of headaches which coincide with nosebleeds shortly before each episode. Episodes most obvious features: eye pigmentation shift, vocal shift (practically “auto-tune”), atmospheric disturbances. Shaking her head, she flipped through the papers in the file were dated just as recently, some even as recent as this past October. Occasionally a few words jumped out. “Unstable.” “Condition worsening.” “Duality.” This was it, alright. This was...him. This file was all they needed, had everything they needed to stop him. Contain him. To not make the stupid, small mistakes that’d led to...this.

Taking a deep breath, she closed the file and turned to leave...but stopped.

A high pitched giggle echoed down the halls.

“No...” her voice was a hoarse whisper. And she ran, full pelt down the hall. She screamed in frustration as the heavy door slammed itself shut, the giggling escalating into laughter, high and cold and deranged. “No!” She slammed her fists into the door, pulling and shoving alternatively. “Dammit, let me out!” “I’m gonna find you!” His voice seemed to bounce and echo, sliding between pitches, sometimes sounding like several of him were speaking at once. “Jack, please! I know you’re in there!” She was starting to panic, now, voice cracking desperately. “He’s GONE!” Another maniacal laugh. She turned to face the room. Around her, the walls seemed to be...glitching. “YOU! You’re on THEIR side! You helped them CATCH ME! CHEATERS! It’s no fun if you CHEAT!” Sudden silence. Suddenly her throat burned, and she retched, hands clawing at it as she crumpled to the floor, the laughter echoing again with a vengeance, louder and louder around her, the walls glitching in and out of existence with more frequency and intensity.

The last thought she had was of the body in the testing room. At least he wouldn’t rot alone, she thought dimly as she faded into the darkness.

Yoooo @therealjacksepticeye look at this!!

After 3 months of hard work, we have finally completed and released the full demo for The BOSS!

INSTRUCTIONS:

-BE SURE TO FOLLOW THE INSTRUCTIONS IN THE FILE TELLING YOU TO READ IT BEFORE YOU PLAY. Trust me, you don’t want to ignore that.

-Definitely let us know if you find a bug. Of course, a lot of it isn’t finalized.

-Let’s Plays are 100% welcomed. We will watch them all and take your comments into consideration. Seriously, we’d love to see them!

-Feedback is welcome!

Now go play! Let us know what you think!

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.

I’m only reblogging my own story because this comment is making me laugh so hard that I’m trying desperately not to wake up my brother in the next room, either by laughing too loudly or falling outta my chair. Glad you like it! XD

THIS IS NOT MINE. This is a Creepypasta I’ve heard a thousand times and don’t know the original owner of, but I love it dearly, it’s terrifying. You should look for the Jacksepticeye reading of it, that got me good the first time I heard it.

THIS IS NOT MINE. This is a Creepypasta I’ve heard a thousand times and don’t know the original owner of, but I love it dearly, it’s terrifying. You should look for the Jacksepticeye reading of it, that got me good the first time I heard it.

I GOT INSPIRED AGAIN

Mark was in the middle of cleaning his gun when Jack surprised him.

“M...M...?” Mark frowned and looked over to the corner of the room where he’d tied Jack down. It was raining outside and he’d taken shelter, dragging Jack along with him. They’d...or, well, Mark...needed a break, just for a little while. It was hard enough to lose everything without being out in the elements constantly for so many months. Jack never protested being dragged along. He never agreed, though. He never did much of anything these days, he didn’t even seem to be conscious of where he was, or even who he was, anymore. But that was what made Mark look in the first place, and what made him slowly put down the gun, get up, and walk a little closer. The sounds Jack made nowadays didn’t mean much. He grunted when he was hungry, or when he was being dragged. He snarled occasionally when he could smell other zombies, or, very rarely, people. But this noise was intentional. It was a specific “m” sound, as opposed to the usual generic vowel noises. And when Mark looked over...Jack was looking at him. Staring, squinting right at him, and he looked...almost curious. Confused. Did he dare to hope? “Jack?” “M...ma...” he tried again, clearly trying. “Ma...rk?” He could’ve laughed out loud if he wasn’t so shocked. “Yeah...Yeah, man, it’s me.” He paused for a moment. “Do you...know who I am?” “I...” He shook his head very slowly, shakily putting the palm of one hand against his face, rubbing clumsily, as if to get rid of some of the grime and blood. He still seemed very foggy, but for the first time...here. Present. “I...d-don’t...kn-know...D-don’t...kn-know...wh-who...” “Who you are?” Mark supplied, and Jack actually nodded. “Try. What’s your name? Can you remember it?” He spoke quietly, as if to a small child. Jack sat up slightly from where he was slumped on the ground, tilting his head to study Mark again as he thought. After a long pause, he mumbled, “J...Jack...I-I’m...” But then he shook his head. “N-no...S...Se...Sean...” “Take it easy,” Mark moved a little closer, one hand out, almost to pacify him. His heart was in his throat, and he was finding it very hard not to get worked up. “Yeah, that’s you. You’re Sean.“ He smiled a little bit. “Welcome back.” And he never thought he’d been happier to see Jack smile.

post apocalyptic mark & zombie jack –

   “C’mon bud,” Mark pulled at the rope tied around Jack’s waist, leading him away from the dead animal on the side of the road, “Leave that alone.” His friend did nothing but grunt and groan. It was all he ever did these days. Whatever had happened to his brain after the infection had made him incapable of speaking, along with many other things. He was once a loud, outgoing fellow with smiles and laughs for miles. Now, he was a walking corpse with lifeless eyes and sickly grey skin. 

   The best friend that Mark knew and loved was seemingly gone, but he couldn’t let him go. He brought him along on his travels day after day in hopes that he’d find a cure and bring his best friend back to life once again. He just had to make sure Jack didn’t infect him before he could accomplish his goal.