Ohh....OH NO.

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.

Who Killed Markiplier? Chapter 3 Update.

WELP LOOKS LIKE I WAS WRONG ABOUT THE EGOS NOT BEING INVOLVED! LOOKS LIKE WE MIGHT BE GETTING A BACKSTORY AFTER ALL!

Links to previous parts:

Chapter 1 theories

Chapter 2 theories

Extras: The Bedroom The Sound Clip

Let’s start with our new characters.

-Celine is an old friend of Mark, Damien, and the Colonel. All three of them appear to either have or have had feelings for her (given the way the Colonel says “Celine...” when he first sees her, Damien’s protectiveness, and the picture from the last part with Mark). Her interest in the occult and the supernatural is a newer development. Either that, or she’s been out of touch with Damien for a while, seeing as he doesn’t know about it. Her “eyes have been opened”, and she seems to want to do anything to get answers, even if it’s dangerous to her health or the health of the people around her.

-George the Groundskeeper has been at the manor for more than 15 years, and there was one incident 15 years ago that has stopped him from ever going in again (UNTIL IT HAPPENS AGAIN). He has served under several different masters (maybe the Colonel at some point?) and doesn’t seem to care at all about any of them. It seems very important to me to note that when he says “murder”, nothing happens.

Now let’s talk about the Seance we have with Celine:

-She hints at there being serious, unknown forces at work, and when the “trance” (for lack of a better word) starts, we hear a very familiar ringing.

-During the trance, we see, in order: the Colonel saying his “In my own home!” line, the Detective telling us the body is gone (and the panning shot to the Colonel on the balcony), the Mayor pondering what we’re celebrating, and George telling us that “employers come and go”.

-When it ends, we draw the groundskeeper (crudely) for Celine, which I think is the audio clip from yesterday (I knew it was a quill!).

-Whatever that trance was terrifies Damien and the Detective.

AND NOW, THE POSSESSION AT THE END:

-There’s a hugely familiar ringing around the whole event, and the glitching is red and blue. We all know exactly who that means is on the scene.

-Damien is nowhere to be found in the entire ending sequence, meanwhile the Colonel reappears after having been absent for most of the video. What is the room he’s coming out of? Is it really his room or is it Mark’s?

-”Somebody help me!” I think that was George, or the Detective, talking about closing the door, but I’m not entirely certain. It could have been Damien, asking for help with Celine.

I think I’m finally getting a sense for what happened, but I’m not sure I want to share it yet. I’ll probably do a masterpost of my final theory tomorrow, before the next part goes up. I might be going out tomorrow, so I probably won’t be around to live react to the finale, but rest assured, I’ll be there in the evening to sum up! Let me know what you guys are thinking, and talk to me! Who do you think did it? What do you think is happening? Why is Dark here, suddenly? Are we getting an Ego backstory?

This is so much fun!!! I’m so happy to be wrong about the Egos not being involved!!!

Applegrass

Pairing: Ten/Rose

Rating: PG for heavy angst

He was lying on applegrass. But that couldn't be right. The last time he'd done this... He looked beside him.

There she was, grinning down at him, blonde hair whipping in the breeze, her tongue between her teeth, exactly how he remembered. "Doctor? You fell asleep on me. You alright?"

A small awe-fillled smile crept across his face. "Rose?" he said, very quietly, not quite daring to believe it. She laughed and his hearts nearly stopped. "Yeah, 'course I am. Who'd you expect? Is that whole regeneration thingy still messin' with your 'ead?" He laughed just a little. "I...it must be. I...I must have just....dreamt it all...?" She grew concerned and he wanted to slap himself. He never wanted to see anything but a smile on that face ever again. "What'd you dream about tha's got you so rattled?" He sat up slowly. "I dreamed...I dreamed I-I'd lost you....I dreamed I was alone....This whole weird thing with a...an ancient creature, on Earth....it was Christmas...and there was this bride...but all I could think, seeing her in that-that dress, was...." He stared at her through this whole little speech, and realized what he was about to say almost too late. He managed to stop himself, and cleared his throat awkwardly. Rose stared right back into his eyes, and murmured, "Doctor...what were you thinkin' about?" And looking into the eyes he could have sworn he'd be missing for the rest of his long lives, without the hope of seeing them again, he gave in to what he'd resisted for what felt like too long. "I kept thinking about how beautiful you'd look in  a wedding gown, and how much I missed you, and how much it hurt that I'd never...never said..." She looked shocked that he'd said it out loud, and was blushing violently. He chuckled and pulled her into a hug as she whisper-squeaked "Doctor!" into his shoulder. They held each other for a moment before she pulled back a little, cleared her throat, and said nervously, tucking hair behind her ear-a habit he loved so much-"So...does that mean...do you...?" He almost couldn't believe what he was doing, but he had been given the chance to see what could happen if he didn't.He could never let her go. He thought he had always known he couldn't. Though it didn't make any sense, though he was still a Time Lord and she was still human...he didn't care anymore. So, he leaned in, cupping her face with one hand and tucking the other around her waist. She gasped slightly. He smiled and brushed her lips, gently, almost hesitantly, almost as if he were asking for permission. She granted it by kissing him back, firmly but very, very gently.He couldn't breathe, couldn't think, didn't want to. In this moment, he wasn't a soldier, or a survivor, or a god, or an alien. He was just a man, kissing the most amazing, impossible, beautiful, fantastic woman who had ever lived. After a very long moment, they pulled back to look at each other, and giggled awkwardly, their forheads pressed together. "Finally," Rose cheeked, nudging his arm, "Took you this long to figure that out?" He took her hand and stared at it, his thumb stroking affectionately across her knuckles. "Rose?" He looked up at her pleadingly. "Promise me that you'll never leave?" She laughed, and scooped him into another hug. He held her tightly, as if he'd never let go. "'Course I won't. Because..." She moved to face him and grinned his favorite grin. Very hesitantly, and blushing heavily-how it should have...should be, he thought, no rush or pain-Rose said the only thing the Time Lord would have burned up suns to hear. "Doctor...my Doctor...I love you." He looked into her eyes, trying to convey all of the emotion he could with them because he knew his voice alone would never be sufficient for how he felt for his little pink and yellow human shopgirl. "Rose Tyler..." The name on his tongue was the most beautiful music ever sung. He smiled her favorite hundred watt smile, and took a deep breath for those three little words...the most important words he'd ever say...

The Doctor woke with a start, unsure at first where he was. Where was Rose? Where was the grass? Why didn't the air feel right? He looked around, and slowly, as his dark, lonely bedroom registered, he remembered. He looked down at his disheveled brown suit, at the tightly balled up covers in his left hand, at the small, insignificant looking blue and purple jacket clutched in his right, and he felt tears well up again. He began to shake, hard, staring at it. The pain of losing her was fresh all over again, all the good Donna had done for him destroyed by one moment of weakness from his subconcious. Her face was still fresh in his mind, smiling, blushing, happy and carefree, her voice still saying those words in that beautiful London accent. He brought the jacket up to his face, holding it with both hands now, and gently rubbed the soft fabric across his cheek. It still smelled like her. Faint floral perfume, and her shampoo.

He broke down, sobbing and rocking, and stayed on his bed, wishing the world away, calling in vain for his Rose, cursing himself for ever pausing before saying those cruel words. Every room in the whole TARDIS echoed with his screams and sobs. They almost seemed strongest and most heartbroken in one partricular, empty little pink room.

Far away, in a little pink room, a pink and yellow human shopgirl screamed awake, crying, begging him to say it, please say it. She slowly stopped screaming, and cried silently, a small silver key on a chain clutched in her right hand, hugged close to her chest. It was all she had left of him. She could still see his face fresh in her mind, smiling, blushing, goofy and nervous enough to be a teenage human boy, still hear his voice shyly calling her beautiful in a wedding gown. It had been a dream. But of course, this dream, though especially vivid tonight,was not unusual for her.

An Eternity In Hell (In Space With Markiplier Drabble)

The darkness had stopped eating at him ages ago. He didn’t have a time. There wasn’t really time anymore. Days didn’t start and they didn’t end. There was no morning, no coffee, no evening, no sleep.

He was getting close to being finished. He knew they would be here soon, and that the moment would finally arrive. All the times - the only time, again and again - that he’d seen them arrive. Called out to them only to see their shocked expression melt into nothingness and blue light. Every time - the only time - they were gone in an instant.

He’d been desperate to leave at first. Clawing at the door and banging away at the controls, pulling at panels and, every single time they arrived, he’d jolt toward them, desperate to pull them close and have some kind of comfort again. But still, every time, they slipped out of his reach, and he’d be alone again.

After a while, he ended up curled up in one of the corners. He was utterly alone, and he couldn’t make himself see why he should bother getting up. Moving. He didn’t eat. He didn’t sleep. He didn’t feel like he was aging. He didn’t feel anything at all but the endless exhaustion and terror, the cold floors.

He ran through every endless life then. Every death - jettisoned, suffocated, shot, frozen, burned alive, detonated, stretched beyond physical limitations, eaten, smashed - all of them played out over and over and over again. Sometimes he could feel his bones, old and brittle, and the slowing of his movements. He could see a cafe at the end of everything, getting darker and emptier as the stars around it winked into blackness. 

Every single time, they were there. They led the charge. They send him into danger. They met him at the table. 

They decided. Time after time after time after time, for all time, they decided. 

And it all ended in misery. 

No more. 

He moved, finally. He stood, and pulled panels from the walls. Pulled circuits. Found the emergency tool stash and started building. Rewired the controls to feed into the central hub. Crafted the designs from memory, painstakingly, with aching hands that never got any rest. 

Still they showed up. Again and again, and every time, he had to stop and look. Had to call out. He couldn’t help himself. He built three soaring spires and connected them, used them as a focus and a kind of closed circuit to create a layer of shielding and containment. 

Finally it was done. It had power. It ran and its diagnostics, programmed from scratch, came through at 100% capacity. It was ready.

And there they were, right on schedule. He felt nothing and everything at once as he calmly pulled the extinguisher from the wall and took aim. 

“Hi, Captain.”

Old (A Tentoo Drabble)

Pairing: Tentoo/Rose mentions

Rating: G

Old. It's amazing how odd that word sounded to him now.

Before, when he'd thought of old, he'd thought of centuries, of planetary histories and the births and deaths of stars and galaxies. He'd thought of an ancient, nearly extinct race, who could live for many thousands of years, each with thirteen faces. He'd thought of how many faces he had left, and how many centuries, and how alone he would be.Old used to terrify him. Now, though, old was different.

Now, he thought of years, of houses and cars, and pictures from a Polaroid camera. He thought of another race, who lived for less than a century on average, each with only one face. He thought of the fact that now he only had one face, and much less than a century left...and someone to spend that time with. Old doesn't scare him as much anymore. The Doctor touched his face. He touched the chin that was covered in morning stubble after not being shaved in three days. He touched the corners of brown eyes he'd grown so used to seeing, suddenly, it seemed, covered in small wrinkles. He touched brown, spikey hair that was just beginning to grey.And he marveled at it.

Fifty years ago, this hadn't even been a possibility for him. Thirty-five years ago, it'd been an aching, impossible fantasy. Thirty years ago, it'd become a terrifying and strange new reality. Now, he looked at himself in fond awe once again.He was getting old. He, the Doctor, Last of the Time Lords, 900 year old alien, was finally getting old. And he was happy about it.

Someone knocked on the open bathroom door. He looked over to see a brown haired woman leaning against its frame, arms crossed over a blue pajama top. She smiled at him and raised an eyebrow.

"Morning. Why're you starin' at yourself?"

He smiled and raised an eyebrow right back.

"Morning. I'm just appreciating how handsome I am."

"No you're not," she laughed, "You were touching your wrinkly eyes. You're thinkin' about how old you're getting."

He scowled playfully. "I am not!"

"Are too!" she grinned, walking over and hugging him. He sighed, looking back at the mirror and putting an arm around her. "Are to," he conceded.

The woman looked up at him thoughtfully."It still amazes you, doesn't it?"

"Oh, yes. I think it always will."

They stood there for a minute, looking in the mirror, before she finally patted his shoulder and gestured at his striped pajamas."C'mon, get dressed. You promised we could show Martha and David a new planet today."

He sighed again, smiling into it. "I did, didn't I? Alright." He stepped back from her and walked to the wardrobe in the adjacent bedroom, pulling out a familiar blue set of garments. "Old suit good enough for it, Deej?"

"Always, Dad," she said fondly, and with a last chuckle left the room to find her kids and make sure they were ready.

Another woman appeared at the door and smiled. This one was blonde, with little wrinkles around her eyes, too (that he of course never mentioned).

"Hello."

"Hello."

Rose came in and gave him a little kiss.

The Doctor took his wife's hand, like he always had, and always would, and went off to find the rest of his greatest adventure, and show them a new planet. Just like he'd promised.

Just like it should be.

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

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

How many full rows do you have?

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.

The end of the world didn’t look anything like we thought it would. There were no fires. There was no screaming in the streets. No gunshots aimed at brick facades teeming with armies of the unruly dead, or extraplanetary life that had for some reason decided that humanity was to be systematically eliminated. There were no world leaders corrupted by their position into beginning nuclear Armageddon. No, it was nothing like that.

The end of the world was…quiet.

A Really Rather Dumb Bet (Schneep and Chase Drabble).

A/N: Because everyone needs a little more fluff and comedy for these two fools.

The horrid crashing sound was more than enough to send Henrik careening out of bed. It wasn't as if he wasn't used to loud noises, he made plenty of them himself and hell, he was good friends with Jack. It was just that this particular loud sound had been made at two o'clock in the morning when he'd thought he was alone in the house. Anyone else might have been inclined to do something rational, like call the police or go back to sleep. Henrik, however, knew much better, which was why he swung his door open with great gusto, walking confidently into the living room, brandishing a stethoscope like a garrot and yelling "WHO IS IT ZAT DARES TO DISTURB ZE REST OFF ZE GREAT HENRIK VON SCHNEEPLESTEIN?! VHAT CRIMINAL IS STUPID ENOUGH TO CONTEST HIM?!" Honestly, even in the fluorescent pink pajama shorts and haphazard glasses, he struck an intimidating figure. What greeted him was not an awestruck-and-or-blinded-by-the-neon-PJs burgler, but a broken window, a collapsed side table, a few scattered remote pieces and magazine pages, and a very dissheveled, very drunk, widely grinning Chase Brody. "DOC! AH'M -hic- SO HAPPY TAH SEEEE YOOOOOU!" This was met with a blank stare, to which Chase pouted considerably. "Aw, c'mon -hic- Schneeps, you've gotta be h-hic-happy to see me too. I hav'n ev'n seen you in like...like...ever!" "Chase, vhat ze fuck?" The good doctor shook his head and went to help his terribly inebriated friend to sit on the couch. "First off all, vhy are you here at two in ze morgen?" "Because I wanna see-" "See me, ya, I got zhat. Sank you, ze sought is appreciated." Clearly he wasn't going to get a better explanation. "Second question, zhen: vhy did you come through ze vindow?" "The door was locked." He would have facepalmed if he'd had a free arm that wasn't busy trying to shove said window back into the gaping hole it'd created on the way down. "Off course. And vhy are you drunk as an Irish sailing skunk?" "Because Marv gave me -hic- some awesome whiskey! And bet me -hic hic- I couldn't finish it all in one go! I won! Ha!" Chase laughed. The laughing quickly turned into a vague wretching. He turned very green and Henrik didn't wait to be asked before he pointed down the hall to the open bathroom door. For a drunk man, Chase moved surprisingly quickly and with surprisingly few casualties. Henrik only had to dive to catch one vase and three paintings before the door shut behind him. He sighed. Tomorrow, he supposed, he'd have to get some more answers out of that man, and a sound apology from Marvin. Tonight, though, he simply went to the closet in the hall and pulled the door open to reveal a set of shelves with extra linens on them. He ran a finger down the edges of the shelving. JJ, Marvin, Angus, Robbie...ah, there it is! Chase. He pulled out a set of Nerf sheets, and began to make up a bed on the couch. BANG! CRASH! THUMP! "Hennnnnn-!"

Sigh.

He stood, straightening his shorts. A doctor's duties never cease.