Okay So I Wasn’t Super Far Off With This! That’s Nice! I Even Guessed The Encounter With Actor Mark,

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.

I love this. Feedback is so much fun.

Reblog if you write fanfic and would be totally down with your followers coming into you askbox and talking to you about your fic

Henlo this gave me ideas.

-

His voice was much croakier than it used to be. It was at the same time far too low, and just right. It was raspy and rough from disuse, or from strain, because all he ever did now was scream.

“Let’s go in the garden, you’ll find something waiting, Right there where you left it, lying upside down...”

He discovered that the old song’s lyrics were still stuck somewhere in his mind, and when he tried to pin down where it came from, he came up with an odd mix of faded memories; he was playing an acoustic guitar on the patio, badly, and his best friend was laughing and calling him a sap; she was dancing with the man she should never have fallen for, and he was singing in her ear, in the dark, far away from all the trouble that seemed to follow them constantly.

Most of the time, when he remembered them, the names he’d once owned and the faces that went with them, it would hurt. It would burn every fiber of his being until nothing remained but fury and hatred. He would be himself and no one at once, and it would tear him to pieces over and over again.

But today...

Today, he was just...sad. Not in pain. Not furious. Just sad. He was a boy who wanted to make his great city proud of him. She was a girl caught up in romance, with a ring on her finger and a rose in her room.

And in the hands of an old friend who’d just wanted to hear everyone laugh, and see justice served, was an old, nearly illegible ribbon, grey where it had once been black. They’d given it to him the night of the election,a joke then, but less so than the cruel one it had become.

“In little ways, Everything...stays...”

The voice that was all three of theirs, and no one’s, trailed off and went quiet. For once, his world was quiet.

FUCK this will never not hurt.

This is a good thread!!!

MARVIN?!

YEAH SO THIS IS IN THE PANIC ROOM IN THE JSE DISCORD HELP

A Tack-On To My Last Theory.

What if we’re getting a glimpse at the proper creation/manifestation of Anti? Like, if Anti really is a tulpa, a parallel personality of Jack’s, then what if the coma is him trying to permanently gain a physical form so he can kill and replace Jack once and for all?

What if Chase and Schneep are tulpas as well, and they’ll die if Jack dies, so they’re trying to stop him for their sake as well as for Jack’s. Tulpas can be companions too, they’re not all evil.

IT’S SHOWTIIIIIIIME

So! What we’ve got here is a basic teaser trailer, but there’s so much more to it than that!

Let’s start with sounds. That right there? Air raid siren, typically used in high security situations or widescale emergency alert systems. For the sake of my sanity, we’re gonna guess that it’s high security here. This museum has top of the line alerts, not just the bells and secret alarms of a normal place. Why is that? What’s it guarding?

That brings us to point number two! The lights. Clearly, we’re seeing down the end of a hallway, slowly lit up as if triggered by the sirens, but that’s a strange way to have your electronics set up. Why not have the lights trigger the alarm? That’d make more sense if it’s somewhere with secure access: you have to turn on the lights the right way or the sirens cut on and you’re busted. It’s weird to me. Someone got a good idea as to why it’s backwards?

And finally! THE PICTURE. That very much looks like Actor Mark. But why? Who would go to all the trouble to steal a picture of some long-dead actor? Who would bother? Even if he’s still “alive”, why would you want his picture that badly? And more importantly, why is it under such high security? Who put it under lock and key?

There’s a lot going on here and I’m HOOKED. It’s been a minute since I’ve had something this interesting to theorize over. I’m excited to see what this brings. :)

It’s not about me. It’s about you.

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.

So what you’re saying is that we might not have Anti’s real name? That would be an interesting dynamic to explore.

Has Anti ever said that his actual name is Anti :/ ? Like that’s what we and Jack call him but he has never used that himself.

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.

ohh....OH NO.

I NEVER THOUGHT ABOUT DARK BEING ABLE TO READ MINDS TOO.

OH GOD.

ALRIGHT THEORISTS

LET’S GET CRACKING ON THIS VIDEO

1. The audio was weird. There were little cracks and glitches. The first one I noticed was at 10:38. We should probably check the audio files

2. 10:38 ALSO HAD A VISUAL GLITCH. I played it over many times to double-check and that was definitely placed there intentionally.

3. We shouldn’t worry too much about the train from the future thing – it’s a reference to Murder on the Orient Express (as confirmed by when Wilford says “we all did it”) – but it IS important to know that Wilford seems to have been time traveling!

4. “If you were Celiene you’d probably carve my heart out” – does that mean Will knows about Darkiplier? Have they had a run-in? 

5. TELEPATHY? WHAT.

6. TELEPORTATION? is this and #5 just part of the fucked timelines?

7. Are the masked people at the end really…there? Are they real people Will has gathered somehow? or is it another one of his weird glitches?

8. On that note, the blood from when he was shot in the heart? Dripping down his shirt? Is Will just magic?

9. It seems like the Detective wasn’t having any trouble remembering things until the audio glitches started. Did Will do something to influence that or does the house still have control over both of them?

10. Between the cut from the car scene to the office, Wilford was still shouting, and given that time is fucky here, I wouldn’t be surprised if time actually jumped there?

11. SHIT DOES THIS MEAN DARKIPLIER CAN READ MINDS TOO OH GOD

I’m about to go frame-by-frame, I’ll add more as it comes up.