THERE ARE NEW PETS!

After a much-too-long production on my part, I give you Control, a WKM PMV! It roughly follows the story of Mark’s experiences leading up to the events of WKM. Which makes it a prequel of sorts, I suppose! (Thanks to @markiplier​ for this fantastic universe.)

Thank you so much to all the artists who participated, it was so so lovely working with you. Their usernames are on each of their sections and are under the cut. I hope you enjoy!

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I’m starting to think that the annoying English teacher was right when they say everything a writer chooses to use has a meaning. Like, it might not be a big meaning, but I have not written a single sentence yet that was not intended to have some kind of effect. Some of them stand alone, some of them contribute to a whole thing, like structural motifs, but…

I don’t know, everything has meaning, I guess.

My mother just got my deadname tattooed on her arm.

I cannot wait to legally change it

“Captain, where the hell are we now!?”

I think I’m being neglected

It’s just the fact that everyone talks about the youngest child being pampered - and, yeah, sure sometimes that’s true, but if you think about the implications of even that, it gets sad. Because by being ‘pampered’ you mean being given everything that you want. Oh, you want $10 to go buy something. Sure! Oh, you want a new game. Here ya go! But there are no guidelines.

You might think that’s a good thing - freedom and all that jazz. But most of the time it just makes you feel like they don’t care. This is most common when the youngest is a teen, because the middle and oldest have already moved out or gotten independence, and your parents have forgotten that they’re still parents. Give the other person who lives in their house a tenner so that they don’t have to deal with them. They can have the game because what else are they gonna do all day when we’re on holiday?

As a youngest child, this just prompts you to grow up quicker. Get more mature so you don’t have to bother them anymore, because they’re not your parents, they’re just the people you live with. As far as they’re concerned, they’re done. They’ve reared children, those children have left, so who cares about the last one?

But the problem is; you can’t grow up. Because you’re 13 or 14 or 15 or 16 - you can’t legally leave. You feel like more of a burden, not just because you’re still there, but because you’re the only one still there. Everyone else has moved on and you’re stuck looking at the bedrooms they used to have and the bedrooms that the other people sleep in. And then you wonder, do I really have it as good as people say I do?

"because you were lied to, does not mean that everything is a lie. do not take the crimes of those who have manipulated us and put them at the feet of the world."

brennan lee mulligan sometimes you say shit like this during a campaign and it makes me want to tear my hair out

imagine being tricked into thinking i was star, silly billy

I think that given the release of the FNAF movie, I will tell the tale of my most memorable dream. For context, I was 10 at the time, undiagnosed asthma (this will matter later), and had been watching the games since Markiplier first played the game.

The dream started with being in a completely blank house, myself going through the doors and finding random items inside, closing them, and going to the next one. For some reason, if I found a FNAF animatronic, they would chase me, except for Foxy and Chica. I don’t know why those two, but they were also searching doors with me. I’m pretty sure I was supposed to be looking for an exit, but that part’s pretty blurry, since the next thing I remember was being outside on the path leading to one of those roads that game devs have when they don’t want to make a whole town. The ‘enemy’ animatronics weren’t chasing us, but we started running anyway. Then, I heard footsteps coming from behind me, and I think it was phantom Bonnie (the purple, really rare one) who I saw behind me. Cue more running, until I start to get tired. This is where I think my exemplary survival instincts come into play; my legs were beginning to get tired, and Chica and Foxy were running past me (because apparently they were also scared) so you know what I did? I stopped completely, turned around and was like ‘I’m tired, you can kill me now’. Phantom Bonnie began slowly walking towards me, but it was two steps away from me when I decided suddenly, ‘Oh! Actually, I don’t want to die’ and then started running again. Made it to the end of the road and then woke up.

No clue what the moral was.

Thanks for coming to my tedtalk.