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seb-owns-these-tatas · 4 years

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Witcher of the Night (Chapter 23.1)

I KNOW MY EDIT SUCKED. HEH. That’s my book cover in Wattpad. Couldn’t post CHAPTER 23.2 there because the application is glitching and I’m annoyed af. Anyway, enjoy this chapter for WOTN.

CHAPTER 23

WOTN MASTERLIST

Characters: Geralt of Rivia x small!Naive!Reader

Summary: Maybe a witch isn't the key for your getaway because it could be deeper than that.

Warnings: The summary sucked. I couldn't write anything to avoid spoilers. LMAO. Curses. Tybalt and Geralt banter/hate for each other? 😂 Rohesia is my OC, not connected to any of the games or books. The witcher character named Gerd (AHA. I'VE INTENTIONALLY DID THIS. Surprised to see a stomach sickness used as a name lmao jk 😂) from the Bear school has been used. Bethleheigm is also a made up kingdom from moi. 😂 (Pronounced as Beth-le-haym)

Words: 4.3k

A/N: I know Kaer Morhen is located in Kaedwen. Damn it. I lately knew it when I was already half way through this fic and I can't change it anymore. Let's just say...oof. They'll eventually go there. Don't worry. Oop. Is it a spoiler? 😭

TAGLIST IS STILL OPEN FOR THIS ONE! Heehee! Don’t forget to REBLOG, COMMENT OR GIVE FEEDBACK IF YOU DID LOVE THIS CHAPTER! IT’LL MAKE ME SMILE! Sorry for the grammatical errors and such because English isn’t my mother tongue! PLEASE LEAVE FEEDBACK AFTER READING, BB! I apologize for errors!

Disclaimer: PNG's and pictures used in edits are not mine even the GIF's too. (Credits to the rightful owners of the gifs, it’s written in the lower part of their gifs. Though, some don’t. Still, credits to them. If you want it to be removed, just kindly message me) The edits and this fanfic is definitely from moi. Character development and personalities are based from my understanding and how I want them to be. This has no connection towards the books or games.

MY WORKS ARE NOT NOT NOT NOT NOOOOOOT TO BE POSTED ON ANY OTHER WEBSITES. My official username in Wattpad is “TATATHEPOTATO” and that’s the only other site I have for writing aside from Tumblr. Thank you, Tater tots!

DAY THREE CAME QUICKLY THAN WHAT WAS EXPECTED. Taking the shorter route to keep the proximity of hours easier for traveling back faster to Kaedwen. Geralt and Tybalt had an allayed journey towards the outskirts of Bethleheigm.

If a narrator was utterly dramatic, he or she could say that the witcher was beyond exhausted over being with the higher vampire because he only knew how to gall him over and over---a deathless cycle through out their travel, side by side with their own horses and vexation over each other. Yet, Geralt rarely has given him his energy for a battle that was pathetic as it ends.

They've both shared a night somehow. Their backs meters away from each other. With Geralt and his sarcasm never shutting one's eye until Tybalt was cursing him out under the moon light because the white wolf warned him not to think about hunting people to quench his thirst for blood. The higher vampire was left throwing him a pebble on his back and muttering how the full moon won't be until the day of the feast in the castle where he would technically celebrate over being a vampire but this choice could also be eradicated since blood was not in the highest scale in his pyramid law of needs.

Nights weren't the only thing shared between the two. Unbeknownst to them till Geralt was humming in displeasure, they've actually shared a drink of your home made ale. Tybalt commented how it was as good as Kaedwenian stout---perhaps, even better. Mentioning that the beer was probably made of your love for him which made the witcher scrunch his nose for how cheesy it sounded. Tybalt even declared numerical reasons as to why he kept you with him until today because you knew how to make his drunkard self swoon over your culinary skills.

Your cookery abilities were still different and utmost impressive than Geralt's regardless of how he has been used to embellishing his own food alone before. His midget's skills were technically amazing, add up the peculiar recipes that only you know---but, actually existed in earth---your earth. Those recipes that could get his family and him included, humming in deliciousness because it was new for their taste buds.

They were ought to arrive at the abandoned house today. Side by side, Tybalt and Geralt silently rode on their horses. Both of them fed up at the opposite of every presence that galled them to the brim. The witcher blurting out his opinions very frankly at the scowling vampire who was acting like he wasn't there along the hunt.

"You should've just stayed in the castle and played with your army stocks," Geralt grumbled as he held onto Roach's reigns. Tybalt's advancements for what he has done to you never leaving his memories when he clearly remembered the causes about why he was hating him more than to drown in a monster's stinking guts.

"I should've stabbed yer' horse while we were travelling---or feed off to er' horse blood," Tybalt clapped back, sending the remark in the nonchalant way as possible with a sarcastic raise of his brows.

"Leave Roach out of this,"

"Gods, yer' such a strange one, Witcha'!"

The witcher's scowl was as nasty as an Alghoul's bum. Tybalt seemed to be thoroughly embittered for even tagging along with a cold heart that was grudging to even join his hunt. If it weren't for the queen's request, he would never even be within Geralt's area of personal space. Howbeit, people have been trying to frustrate him even more with their sudden decisions erupting from either sides, like a dormant volcano that no one expects to explode.

Grey undertoned house. Ramshackled from the roof till the decaying roots of stones stuck in between their spaces. Close enough to be dilapidated if a wolf would've tried blowing the house down---though, the three little pigs weren't inside for it to hunt. They were closing in towards their destination, Geralt was anticipating this point of their journey; to immediately seek for the witch and to come back sooner than expected.

Yet, his anticipation burned in disappointment by the familiar look of the house rooted in front of them.

He'd heard stories about this abandoned home in Bethleheigm through drunk men in the Inns. They were having a tete-a-tete that it was a boobey trap made by homeless pirates who hadn't gotten back to shore, concealing the home as a place for them to steal one's belongings until they were ripped off their coins. Some tattled that the house was a dragon's nest where a woman lived in and disguised as one that Geralt knew entirely as a bullshit rumor because no dragons would dare pick to stay in the middle of a forest where the house was the only home built through out the map.

The witcher jumped off his horse, hushing Roach down with a soft caress to her mane because she'd begun to neigh.

Tybalt couldn't help but cackle from how he was affectionately eyeing the horse as if she was his other half, "---I wouldn't be surprised if ye' bring yer' horse with ye' while you bed yer' little woman!" he outlaughed and had a hand on his clothed stomach, shaking his head from the witcher's strange gestures with everything.

"Hmm."

Geralt gave him the side eye, endlessly shooting daggers since the moment they bonded together. His comment receiving a lour from the brooding white wolf because of the baldy judgement said.

"Yer' grumpier than usual---like ye' have been in a fight with yer' current flame---is it the tiny lass, anotha' one of your sorceresses or princess?" the Upir quipped with a smirk, hopping off his own horse before giving the house a look. He seemed to waver with a clear of his throat.

Geralt disregarded his ridicule and question with a blessed silence, his mood turning sour from even mentioning you. The weccan's golden eyes scanned all over the tumbledown house, his amber narrowing as he examined what was expected to be a necromage's hideout that he has heard from one of the drunk men's gossips in the inns.

"This abandoned house," he gruffly started beneath his baritone, harsh breathing as Geralt huffed for his disappointment over the founded location. The bind he had with you turning heavier as days go by like he knew you were turning into a melancholic person due to his faults. Hence, it was keeping him more insane than he can ever be because he always seem to offer only mistakes towards his people---where they end up getting hurt because of him.

Which wasn't new in his life.

"---There is no hag in here. Only a Necromage I presume."

Tybalt walked several steps to stop beside Geralt, shrugging his fur-coated shoulders with a curl of his upper lip, "I told ye' to take the longer route. Right path, Witcha'."

"And I told that you are bringing us both in an early demise because Golems and Downers are bound to get in our way,"

The higher vampire kept his mouth shut after that, his foot tapping on the ground before he received a subtle warning of Geralt's glare. The witcher was right about it. Basically, Tybalt was trying to stall over their journey because he knew what exactly was the stratagem kept for a clandestine truth bound never to be known.

Geralt pushed his peculiar fidgets away as it was still sounding so loud with his heightened hearing. He narrowed his eyes upon the engraved words carved inside the four corners of a mettalic flattened surface stuck on the grimy, stoned walls.

"Thou who shall take a step, requires a fee for entrance and something valuable to heart in order to talk with death,"

He silently read the words inside his head. Considering the requests before slightly pursing his lips, the ends looking like a frown but was actually just irrespective of what he was currently thinking. The ramshackle home being surrounded by an invisible strong force field shielded for not any normal man could trespass in without the rules asked. Another form of magic that he knew---though, this wasn't just any simple sign. It was created by sorceresses or wizards to safeguard the whole home for decades end, not risking anyone to touch whoever was inside, like it was keeping something from entering the place.

Geralt gave Tybalt a look while the vampire continued to whistle along the winds, his arms crossed in front of his chest whilst checking his awfully long nails, intentionally ignoring his companion until the witcher tried to grab onto a rock, strongly throwing the stone towards his head until Tybalt used his abnormal abilities, instantly dodging the stone coming forth and sprinting beside Geralt in just a second to see him nodding his head for his crackerjack skills that he seldomly uses.

"Coins." the white haired weccan roughly stated before he heard Tybalt huff and grumble from his demands, giving his palm to him and expecting for a bag of coins to be placed on his hands.

"You have your own, Witcher."

Geralt cocked his head to the side with a feigned smile, shaking his head, "My coins will remain untouched. I'm not risking mine for favors asked."

"Fuck you and yer' coins. I hope you feckin' go slow and die as soon as you're done with us,"

In the end, Tybalt eventually had to fish out a bag of crowns inside his coat, begrudgingly dropping them off on the witcher's awaiting palm who has shrugged his broad shoulders for his easy submission. The words to the engraved poster switching to dust, swirling through the air, changing into an arrow pointing at a brick where Geralt had to slightly touch for it to be pushed back.

Thorny, earthy tone colored vines snaked their way out of the hole. The brick of the old house never being seen as the roots formed a symbol of two palms sticking together like it was asking for alms. Geralt placed the coins on the makeshift hand, slowly slithering its way back to its home.

The house was alive. He was sure of that when he felt the aegis slowly fading away. Its stone doors cracking to slide open for them to enter.

Tybalt hasn't moved a step from his side. He returned to crossing his fairly muscled arms, hearing hasty pads of footsteps shuffling from behind as Geralt halfly turned to see a Hirrika panting on his side, yelping as a way of his bark towards the witcher who had his eyebrows furrowed in curiosity and stupefaction; stunned to see the familiar beast who has impressively found him despite of his long travel.

"Kolby."

"Your whore's feral pet," The Upir deadpanned, chuckling nasally like a sarcasm.

Tybalt heard a low growl coming the monster, his fangs shown to the vampire who he could sense and remember, his scent awfully making him remember how he'd hurt his master.

"Watch it." Geralt gruffly mumbled, giving Tybalt the side-eye as he tried monotonely hushing the rare beast like how he'd seen you soothe his annoyance or anger whenever Jaskier irritates Kolby.

"Down, Kolby. No teeth." he gruffly scolded with a raise of his palm.

The Hirikka chattered like a cat as he glared at Geralt's temporary companion, spinning on his own place before howling, his snout tilted at the sky as he yowled, the sound making him wince from how loud it was---too sensitive for his heightened hearing. Though, that didn't stop him from judging his gestures, noticing how he was jumping in his own spot whilst doe eyes stared back.

"He's saying something," the white wolf frankly stated, exhaling a languid breath through his nose because he couldn't understand what he wanted, "---Stay here and don't touch Roach or my Hirikka." he mentioned for Tybalt who appeared to be mentally finding their whole interaction as comedic. Geralt took a step forth, subtly leaving a pat on Kolby's head that eventually calmed him down, making him skip his paws to the side.

The Hirikka jumped to sit on his short tail, his knees bent and close to his chest as he silently watched Tybalt and Geralt conversing together with snarls and insensitive jests until the witcher finally moved away from him, bravefully entering the threshold.

"Where ye' going?" Tybalt called out and made him cease his steps, promptly giving the growling Hirikka his heed to see Geralt judging with his slightly entertained peepers, fighting off the curl of his lips because of how his Hirikka was making the higher vampire uneasy. He was agile but lacked knowledge over the beastiality of the continent. Probably, because of how he has been confined in the castle in an early age and known more politics and schemes more than the lore of monsters.

"To ask the Necromage about that witch,"

"Just like that?"

"She might know her whereabouts. Stay here if you don't want to get your vampire nails grimy,"

Tybalt cocked his head to the side, effusive of cursing out the witcher who had a smirk as he turned his back away from him, continuing his path around and ignoring his cavils.

"Why am I even following ye' around, Mutant?"

Geralt of Rivia entered the perimeters. His newly sharpened swords latched on his wide, broad back. Every step had his chest heavier than usual; bred-in-the-bone like he knew there was something happening to you back in the castle that he couldn't decipher and it made him scowl. The energy in the house even adding more of that deep-seated feeling---the home being cursed as well like some sort of magic was ceasing his advancements from talking to this person living inside.

The place wasn't ruined after all. It was all charmed and just a mere visionary trap or distraction that won't let people fall for even staying close to whoever was inside. Clean and utterly fixed, furnitures sat on their proper rooms which held up a second floor that Geralt didn't plan on exploring for as a presence could be felt while he stood in the middle of the kitchen.

"Hmm. Necromage,"

This person was a woman, Geralt silently stated the obvious inside his head. Her voice was tremulous and surprised to see a gigantuan man standing in the middle of her kitchen which she has never seen before in all her life.

"I am no Necromage," Rohesia calmly informed him, her heed turning distant from the mention, "She...has already died. Cristabell, My lady of the rarest in Bethleheigm---the only necromancer in this kingdom. May her soul rest in peace,"

"---You're the witcher." she paused, taking a gander and examining the white wolf before her. White hair falling on the tips of his shoulder blades. Gold eyes. A scowl prominent on his face. This was the witcher she has been warned about from both parties.

Geralt attempted a cynical smile, seeing that she held more lies and have been doing so for a lifetime, "There's no use of lying."

She was feeble. As old as Eanraig in terms of physical appearance but not his actual age since he was a scholar of the forest. The witcher held onto his medallion, seeming to feel no vibrations over his necklace that he strongly felt before the doors have been opened. His white and black spotted eyebrows furrowed for what singularity was happening.

This was supposed to be the Necromage. Yet, why does she felt human who had no magic to offer?

The hoary, old woman was not lying after all.

Rohesia forced to give him a small smile, walking past him to sit on one of the wooden, dining chairs. Gesturing her palm outwards for Geralt to take a seat that he simply answered with silence as he stood rooted on his spot, assessing what she truly was.

"I offer you no lies of secrecy. My mouth speaks nothing but the truth for I am just a mortal who thrives to live peacefully in the continent," she honestly answered his curiosity and judgements which made him nod at her uprightness---making his job easier for him.

The woman really was no necromage at all.

"A mortal who stands for her virtues. Hmm."

"Why are you here, Witcher?"

His glower was permanent even as he sauntered to where she was, standing upright and leaning a hand on the top portion of her dining chairs whilst he patiently explained.

"To find the hag who has cursed prince Althalos of Kaedwen."

Rohesia only offered a small, genuine smile. Her shaky laugh erupting through her chest because she knew this was the man who her former witcher and lover give fair warning to when the Kaedweni started their murdering plots upon fellow weccans who fall for their crimes. Vesemir never wanted to be involved with their delinquencies, explains his periodic leave in the kingdom---his constant visits for the woman seldomly occurring since Nilfgaard has attacked and conquered another domain after Cintra.

"Are you doing this because Vesemir has told you so?"

Geralt went on with his speechless talk, low humming followed suit for the flabbergast he felt over hearing his senior mentor in the art of their kind. The end of his lips subtly turning the opposite of a lour, relieved to suddenly hear his name through another person's mouth---a woman he probably had a relationship with; a former flame and mortal that Geralt least expect for Vesemir to entertain because of the conducts he had told him prior into becoming one skilled witcher.

It is that being involved with mortals and even having a soft spot in the job won't make them any better.

"Does he visit often?"

She ignored his question with a simple, wholehearted feeble laugh. Her circumvent obvious that Rohesia wanted not to talk about Vesemir after he has chosen to leave her for coins and another woman---another mortal years ago, thinking that because she aged badly was one of the reasons why he chose something better than to be with her. Hence, they were even known to be monsters of their own kind. Monsters who slay other beasts in exchange for coins. It was what she believed them to be---yet, she knew to herself that if Vesemir would come back to her, she would still accept him with all her mortal heart.

She dryly coughed, avoiding his eyes and covering her mouth with a tightened fist that Geralt quickly knew she was physically sick just by the looks of it.

"If you...still want to live and take your coin, turn back around and forget that you have stumbled upon this place forever."

The latter shook his head. Determined to find answers from this elderly human who knew his mentor and a fatherly figure he had been to his life. He believed Rohesia knew more than just Vesemir based on how she was trying to push him away.

"Where's the hag?"

"You cannot find the witch anywhere even out in Kaedwen, Geralt."

He was impressed. Geralt raised both of his eyebrows, pursing his lips with a tilt of his head that she knew his name regardless of not introducing himself yet.

"Vesemir has obviously told you more about me,"

She ignored his statement again, grabbing onto the ends of her dirty Tunic as she stood, saying her words firmly and with finality. Never knowing if her decision over dropping out hints would be good for her isolation from everyone---isolation and somehow imprisoned inside a house. The necromage being her sentinel, a guard given orders that she wouldn't escape and try to spill secrets that will ruin such plans. Howbeit, she still had high respects for Cristabell who had been too kind for her that she has brought Rohesia with her whenever she was out for some business.

"The witch you have been finding has been around the castle for decades."

Perhaps, it was time for the truth to set out free because Rohesia knew she had only weeks to live in the continent. Revenge pushing her through the decision she wanted for trying to keep her contained, watching her every move; ruining more of her wrecked life.

"I have been the queen's loyal servant. After she has given birth to Prince Althalos, he has already been cursed when he was a bairn." Pause. "---Sorceress Ingrith has managed to sneak into their quarters and cast the curse by whispering such spell and gaining a tiny drop of his blood. I've all seen her cantrips and heard them as I came back to guard the prince in his sleep. The wail of an offspring shall bring despair for the royal family,"

The sorceress' name felt like a crime to be told. Heaviness in her chest finally unleashing after decades of being caught up with the lies she was telling people who asked or went to gather information as to who has cursed the prince; finding the witch and ending up dying from the hands of her womanly guard. Cristabell recently died from the hands of the last witcher who she knew as Gerd, the necromage dying after their battle whilst she tried to fight for her cousin's trangression---continuing doing so for the sake of her selfish reasons.

"---She...she was also the king's mistress before the queen has given birth to Prince Althalos while she also gained her position. I may never know if it was made from jealousy over the queen's position. Though, it is their life that I promised to stay away from. Only sorceress Ingrith may reverse the curse or happen to know how,"

A beat of silence wrapped them both after Rohesia's candor. Geralt's mouth forming a deeper scowl than ever as he loudly sighed, languidly blinking in weary for being tricked by the sorceress and her right hand, Tybalt of Touissant. His jaw began to clench for who stood outside of the house, the higher vampire making him mad for leading him on circles---the cycle wouldn't have ended if he chose to go forth with his suggested path. It was why he was trying to lead him towards a swamp filled with monsters than the shorter route because the truth was with this rumored woman.

"Should've known."

He deeply grumbled begrudgingly, blaming himself for not thinking it through. His time wasted for you to be saved and taken out of the palace. If only he wasn't as pale as Ivory, his face would've been empurpled with fury for what they've made him appear to be---an idiot or for whatever bullshit they can call him.

"You're coming with me..." Geralt deeply said before he was cut off to her introduction of name.

"The name's Rohesia, Witcher."

He nodded back to the lady, going on with his ceased sentence with solicit, "---Back to the castle,"

Rohesia saw him walk closer to her, face to face with the infamous butcher she has heard tales about. The butcher of Blaviken who has managed to slaughter goons of Princess Renfri's hooligans and also earning another moniker of being a butcher of Ard Carraigh. Kaedwen's capital. The name would eventually spread throughout his kind because of how Kaer Morhen was close by. Her eyes catching onto the badge latched on the rain-guard of his sword.

"I have been told to never step foot again or I shall be put into death,"

"Do I need to beg for your compliance and offer protection?"

"What's in it for you and me?"

The witcher deeply sighed, shifting his amber away from her as Geralt looked withdrawn, his next words sounding like a mumble, dubious of his own bluntness. Disbelieving that he could hear his own voice say the words like an echo of his consciousness.

"You get to save the castle from anguish," pause. "---and you get to save the life of someone dear to me,"

"A woman I assume---your woman," Rohesia sounded so surprised, staring him down in incredulity, "---Is she royal? another sorceress too? a mutant?"

"A mere...mortal," he hesitated to honestly say, his eyes filled with a memory he truly can't forget. Your skeptical voice stuck inside his head when he remembered the first time he met you till the moment you told him how you suited to be a queen.

Geralt clearly remembered his reaction and teasing reply. Telling you how you suited more to be called a midget. His midget. Yet, now you were being treated like his queen where he would kiss the ground you walk on no matter how in denial he gets.

"---Perhaps...a queen to her kingdom in her rightful dimension," he was caught in his train of thoughts, never seeing the stupefaction in Rohesia's eyes over what dimension he meant---having no clue for his words. She could see what Vesemir once was like until life has ruined everything for her, including the sorceress corrupting and controlling the people and castle of Kaedwen.

"Learning to love doesn't suit your kind, Witcher."

"It's because it isn't what you think it is."

Rohesia shook her head for his lies, he was thoroughly unaware of the feelings sipping through his words once he mentioned you. This witcher believed that he wasn't capable to love nor emit feelings just like how her previous lover have been. A typical characteristic of his own kind. Denial and the feeling of being unworthy of recognizing such emotion was making him sound insensitive. But, people who could read others can see through him regardless of how he tries not to, "Deny it all you want. To us humans, it is. Love as many people assume."

"---you're still human after all. As far as I believe for your kind, Geralt of Rivia. Sorceress Ingrith might be glad to see me again soon---I hope."

Don’t hesitate to message me if you don’t want to be included in the taglist anymore, bb’s. I won’t be mad. Thank you.

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Overall witcher taglist: @pizza-eater-i-ate-the-pizza, @crazybutconfidentaf

General taglist for any Henry Cavill fics: @agniavateira, @iloveyouyen, @rahdaleigh, @silverkitten547, @henrythickcavill, @kaatelyyynn, @marvelousell, @madelinelina, @summersong69, @raynosaurus-rex, @fckdeusername, @evansislife @nothinggoesunpunished

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imacrowcawcaw · 4 years

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1, 4, 5, 7, 8, 9, 10, 13, 15, 17, 20, 23, 29, 38 😘❤️ Hope you’re having a wonderful day!

Hi mimi thank you so much for all the questions!!! This is gonna be really long lol - also, sorry it took a while, Tumblr kept glitching and erasing EVERYTHING

1. How many fic ideas are you nurturing right now? Care to share one of them? Oh my god SO MANY! I have roughly 50 works in progress, and so many more ideas running through my head - I just haven't had the energy or the time lately to actually work on them. One that keeps coming back to me is Sam and Danny chilling in bed on a lazy Saturday, after a sleepover, and Sam announces that if they had sex, it would be the best either of them ever experienced. They debate for a while, and of course end up getting it on... it'll happen someday.

4. Describe your comfort zone—a typical you-fic. There's a lot of fluff and heartfeltwords; I try to keep it lighthearted too, though, and throw in what I hope is some funny stuff; smut of course, or at least some kissing; metaphors and figurative language galore. I feel like I'm still very much trying to find my voice and my style, so I think my fics differ a lot in their styles, but there are things that I generally like.

5. Share one of your strengths. Hmm, I was going to say that I know how grammar works (that feels rude but- ) actually I'm going to say that I always turn out things that I really enjoy. That may be more of a personal strength - i.e. it only matter to me - but if I post something I am satisfied (enough) with it. I like my work! I write what I want, even with requests, and I put my all into my writing because I want it to be such good quality that it would make me squeal if I came across it.

7. Share a snippet from one of your favorite dialogue scenes you’ve written and explain why you’re proud of it.

"Dude, that's disgusting."

Danny just smiled at Josh, showing off a rather gross mouthful of mangled food, and kept eating his pineapple pizza.

"Seriously, pineapple doesn't belong on pizza. Can't you just eat regular toppings like the rest of us?"

Danny shook his head and swallowed. "Nuh-uh, I can't. I'm not like the rest of you."

"Hmm, you know, you're right: you're not like the rest of us. It's way hotter in the Wagner corner." Josh looked at him coyly, licking BBQ sauce from his chicken wings off of his fingertips.

Danny froze and Josh laughed, using a napkin to scrub away the rest of the sauce and continuing to messily eat his 'regular' pizza. Danny shook his head, closing the lid of his box to save the rest for later.

Idk if anyone other than @satans-helper would be interested in Josh and Danny (like, together, or at least flirting) but.... I thought this was good. It was fun to write - still not anywhere near done, though - and I think it captures them pretty well. I think dialogue is good when the characters speak for themselves, literally, without having to rely completely on prose to give it meaning.

8. Share a snippet from one of your favorite pieces of prose you’ve written and explain why you’re proud of it.

"The bass pumped through Sam in the same rhythm as his cannabis-speckled blood, sludgey warmth crawling in his veins as he took a second hit of the blunt being passed around. Hidden away from the eyes of management constantly trying to tighten the reins, as if they weren't rock stars in - or perhaps even before - their prime, he let the dark corner he and a few new acquaintances occupied be his cover from an eventual scolding."

Let this be a little teaser for the Collab Zara and I are doing (!!!) lol. I think it's some of my best writing; lyrical but not too long as I'm learning how to do it right, offering information with every little part, setting the scene in a concise but not info-dump way, some bit of irony and humor.

9. Which fic has been the hardest to write? Ohhh man, well there have definitely been MANY that I've gotten stuck on for months, if not over a year -- but, the finished fic that was hardest was probably "Forever", to be totally honest. I think it turned t out very well, but I revised over and over and over, and scrapped a very large portion of it. I know what I wanted, but it wasn't coming for a very long time.

10. Which fic has been the easiest to write? "Blood Brothers". It just flowed so well, I sat and types furiously in my phone for a good 3 hours without stopping, and it was born.

13. What’s the best writing advice you’ve ever come across? There's quite a few pieces that I always think of: write what you want to read, adjectives and adverbs slow the pace (learned this recently and it's very handy), sometimes straight-forward is best, don't be afraid to scrap things and start over.

15. If you could choose one of your fics to be filmed, which would you choose? Oh man, that's a hard choice. I think that "Eyes of Juniper" (metallica fic, not finished 😔) would actually be the best choice, because it's funny, I would love to see the guys in the 80s, and, while it deals with bodies/nudity/sexuality it wouldn't be a straight up porn film lol.

17. Do you write your story from start to finish, or do you write the scenes out of order? A mix of both, I think it just depends on how my ideas are flowing. If I'm really on a roll and know I won't be interrupted, then I'll just write it chronologically. But, if I have a small idea, or I know how I want to end but dont know how to begin, then I'll just start writing something. I'm always afraid I'll forget what I want if I don't write it down, so I work on what I'm able to and fill in the rest later.

20. Describe your perfect writing conditions. Well, I usually end up doing the most of my writing hunched over sitting on me bed in the dark and furiously typing on my phone lmao. I would love to get a laptop and a dedicated space, but it's just not gonna happen rn. So, I'll go with dark, undisturbed, comfortable

23. If you were to revise one of your older fics from start to finish, which would it be and why? there are quite a few that I can look back at and be like noooo what was I doing. I think, though, one that could be really really amazing if revised would be "Black Dog", a guns n roses fic I wrote. It was good, but one of my firsts. My style has improved, and I think I could just make it a lot better, and the dialogue at the end could be a lot more clear and realistic sounding

29. If you could write the sequel (or prequel) to any fic out there not written by yourself, which would you choose? Oh mannnn there are so many fics that have made me want to somehow write/find more, I'll go with "Angel of Apple Valley" (pairing: Duzzy fandom: gnr, on rockfic, I cant find it rn though sorry). It was so amazing and I still think about it. I don't think I could do anywhere near justice to the original, so of course I wouldnt actually, but I just really want more

38. Talk about a review that made your day. Ohhh ok pretty much every review makes me suoer hapoy, but the lovely helena_s_renn left me a comment on Ch. 4 of "Skin on Skin, Hearts Laid Bare" and it nearly made me cry

"Girl, I think you've discovered your voice. This has an intensity beyond any of your other work that I've read thus far (not saying the previous isn't good - it is!!). I was glued to my phone by the eyes, didn't want it to end, and yet it did in what seemed like 5 seconds. Danny's acceptance of Sam's physical needs without asking anything more of him than "just sleep with me" is love. On that subject, I think you've thrown more words at the wellspring of Sanny Love from Sam's perspective than one would have thought possible, and they all ring true."

Like, holy shit thanks?!?! Lol. But really, I've been seriously trying to find my style, and to hear this from one of the writers I respect the most was huge. I felt like a favorite teacher was giving me a hug and telling me i did good!!!

#mimi🌼#asks #asks answered #im sorry this qas really long

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eightmakar · 5 years

Text

A Summer At Stark / One / P.P.

Pairing: Peter Parker x Original Character

Summary: Cameron Murphy is a Georgia girl working in the Big Apple over the summer with Stark Industries and their “most promising employee” Peter Parker.

Word Count: 4.5k

Warnings: ENDGAME SPOILERS

A/N: I know i was supposed to post this yesterday but hey tumblr is a piece of shit and deleted the whole ass post when i tried to schedule it. so here it is instead! the Tag List is open so shoot me an ask! shoutout to @the-claire-bitch-project for beta reading!

Cameron placed her box down on the couch of her tiny new Queens apartment. She tugged her tank top down and her running shorts up again; her shirt always seemed to creep up her tummy while her shorts slid down her butt, especially when she carried things.

She was dripping with sweat. When she accepted this summer job in Queens, she expected it to be cooler than the Atlanta summers she’d grown up with. She wiped her forehead with the back of her hand and wiped the sweat off onto her shorts. Her hair was sticking to her throat and neck and she could feel it frizzing up. Why had she come up north away from the humidity just to have her hair frizz up wildly while she was moving in?

She pulled her hair down from and flipped her head over, combing through her thin, blonde-kissed brown curls and forming them back into their ponytail. She bound them with her hair tie, making sure she got as many of the flyaways as she could. She fanned at herself for a moment, trying to cool off before she had to trek back downstairs and outside to her car. Only a few boxes left, she thought to herself.

Cam took a deep breath and placed her hands on her hips. She bit the inside of her lip, tugging on it as she looked around the shoebox. She wished her parents had been able to come up and help her move, but they didn’t have the work time off since they’d taken time off to go on vacation together with her sister.

She finally walked out of the door of her apartment and padded down the hall to the elevator. Her building had just been renovated by Stark Industries, Cam’s new employer. She was working a summer internship with them that she hoped would turn into a job someday. She’d been told by the hiring manager she’d be working on some sort of “special” project with Stark’s “most promising team member.”

She wished this promising team member could’ve helped her move her stuff in. Cam nearly cried in joy as she realized she just had one box and her backpack left to move in. She swung her backpack on her shoulders and trudged to her trunk to lift up the box. She placed it gently on the ground as she shut her trunk door and locked her car with the remote on her key. She leaned back down with a groan, grabbed the far corners of the box, and headed back inside her apartment building.

She waited for the elevator patiently, thankful she’d left the lightest box for last. The elevator doors opened with a ding and she stepped in.

The doors began to close and Cam heard a small call of “wait!” She groaned and stuck her foot in the door to prevent it from closing as a boy came running into the elevator with you. He was on the smaller side, just a few inches taller than Cam. He shoved his unruly brown hair out of his face as he grinned.

“Thanks,” he said breathlessly. “What floor?”

“Um, seven,” she said, pressing her lips together. She was still sweating, still horribly sticky, and didn’t have the energy to be talkative.

“Sure thing,” the boy said. He pressed the “7” button and only the seven button. He bounced up and down, full of energy for some reason. Maybe he enjoyed the god-awful heat. “I’m on seven, too.”

Cam just looked at him, lips still pressed together over her teeth, and nodded.

“You, uh, just moving in?” he asked. He turned to press his back against the opposite side of the elevator, grabbing the handrail.

“Yep,” Cam said. “I’ll be here all summer.”

The boy opened his mouth to speak again, perhaps to introduce himself or welcome her, but the door dinged open again. Cam mumbled a quick “bye” and hurried off the elevator, walking quickly to her apartment.

She plopped the box down and sighed, tugging her backpack off her back and letting it gently drop to the floor. Cam kicked her flip-flops off and padded to the thermostat. It was set on 70, but she felt like she was melting, so she reset it to 62. She would set it to probably 65 later, but for right then, she needed to cool off.

Cam ripped her shirt off and stood in the middle of the room in her sports bra. She looked down at her tummy, turning her nose up a tiny bit at the purple stretch marks that decorated her stomach. She shrugged, then laid down on the floor. She was surprised at how much cooler it was.

Cameron laid for a few moments before forcing herself to get up again. She found her box labeled “BEDROOM” in her sister’s handwriting and carried it into her room with her. She dropped it on her Queen-sized bed, then sighed when she remembered she left her pocket knife in her backpack. She padded back into the living room and grabbed her backpack, dragging it into her bedroom and lifting it up on the bed with the box. She dug through the small front pocket until she felt her knife.

“Aha!” she exclaimed, pulling it out and tugging the blade out of its cover. She cut the tape on the box, pushed the blade back in, then tossed her closed knife on the bed. She ripped open the box and was greeted with a framed picture of her, her sister, and her best friend, Maggie. She grinned at it, pulling the frame out of the box and immediately placing it on her bedside table.

She unpacked for a while, making her new place feel like home. She kept a list in a note on her phone of what all she needed. Her new landlord had left her a welcome basket with things like toilet paper and paper towels and soap, which was wonderful. She did, however, have to order pizza, since she had no food in the house, but she wasn’t complaining about buying New York pizza.

Cam arrived extra early at the Stark Industries in the morning. It was situated near Prospect Park, a quick Subway ride from her Queens apartment over to Brooklyn. She walked into the enormous building, nervously feeling the gel fingernail polish that adorned her nails. She was excited nervous, but still scared her new employer or this promising recruit she would be working with would somehow deny her a job.

The secretary at the front desk directed her to the elevator and told her to go to the 45th floor. She thanked the secretary and walked nervously to the elevator. Cam’s eyes went wide as she looked at the directory next to the elevator button. 45TH FLOOR: MS. PEPPER POTTS, CEO, it read. The CEO? Why was she meeting the CEO?

Nevertheless, she stepped onto the elevator and hit the button. The doors began to close when she heard a small call of, “Hold the door!”

Cam stuck her hand between the elevator doors to force them to open again. Standing in front of the open doors was none other than the chirpy, brunette boy she’d met the day before in the apartment elevator.

He looked confused as he stepped onto the elevator. “Is this, like, a glitch in the Matrix or something? Didn’t we meet yesterday on an elevator?”

Cam pressed her lips together and nodded. “Yep, we did. Are you, like, following me or something?”

The boy shook his head. “Oh, no no no, I work here.” He pointed to an extremely obvious Stark Industries badge hanging directly in front of Cam. “I’m Peter Parker.” He stuck out his hand.

“Cam Murphy,” she replied, shaking his hand.

“What floor?” he asked, turning to look at the buttons. He paused, about to reach for the “45” button when he realized it had already been pressed. “Oh, are you the summer intern?” He asked.

“I mean, I’m a summer intern,” she said, awkwardly.

“We only hired one intern this summer,” Peter said. “I could only convince Pepper to give me one helper.” He chuckled, then took a sip of a coffee he had in his hand.

“Oh,” Cam said, thinking. “So you’re this ‘up and comer’ I keep hearing about?”

Peter spluttered on his coffee. “‘Up and comer?’” he repeated. “I don’t know about that.”

“I was told I’d be working with the “most promising employee” here,” Cam explained.

“Oh.” Peter was shocked and stared at the wall ahead of him before puffing his chest up proudly.

“What do you do here?” Cam asked, turning to look at him.

“I do, uh, research,” he stuttered.

“On?”

“Um, have you heard of Spider-Man?”

Cam snorted. “The spandex-wearing dumbass that swings around the city? Yeah, I’ve heard of him.”

Peter’s cheeks flushed. “Um, yeah, that guy, he, um, he works here, kinda, I guess. But the webbing, um, stuff that he uses is super cool and I do research on it.”

Oh, so he’s Spider-Man, Cam thought. But he doesn’t want me to know. Wait. He’s Spider-Man. He, like, regularly gets in fights? And swings around the city with webs and shit? What the fuck? Why this guy? He’s so… tiny? Why spiders? Is he one of those weird bug guys? What the fuck?

“What’s so special about it?” Cam asked aloud, hiding her confusion. She examined him, looking for some enlightenment on why this guy specifically had become a worldwide phenomenon. He just seemed like a normal guy. A normal guy who liked to talk.

Peter’s face brightened. “It’s like, crazy strong, right? It’s got all kinds of qualities that could be used for other things, like in medicine, so we’re being contracted by a bunch of different agencies to see what other things it can do!”

Cam smiled. He was so passionate about this web stuff that her suspicion was immediately confirmed. He was, one hundred percent, Spider-Man. But why spiders? What was his deal with spiders? She had so many questions for him.

The elevator dinged and the doors swung open. Peter held his arm out, motioning for Cam to step out before he did.

“Ladies first,” he said.

She stepped out of the elevator and gazed around. It was incredible. Windows were everywhere, so it felt bright and warm in the room. Peter stepped out next to her, then ushered her to the front desk.

“Hi, can I help you?” the secretary asked. “Good morning, Peter.”

“Morning, Ashley!” Peter chirped happily.

“My name is Cameron Murphy, I’m the new intern,” Cam said. “I’m guessing I need a badge?”

“Welcome to Stark!” Ashley said. She fumbled in her desk for a moment before she pulled out a badge that read GUEST. “I’ll take your picture later and get you a permanent badge made, but for now, this will be yours! Peter can take you back to meet with Ms. Potts, and since you’ll be working with him, he’ll also show you your work station! If you need anything, let me know!”

Cam pinned the badge on the hem of her shirt. “Thanks!”

Peter pointed to a hallway behind him as Ashley went back to typing on her computer. “This way, madam,” he said.

Cam paused, curtsied at Peter, tugging her flower-print dress out, then continued into the hallway.

Peter laughed, and Cam felt a small surge of pride. She didn’t know why; maybe it was because Peter’s happiness was infectious, or maybe it was because she didn’t know a single soul in New York and he had been kind to her from the moment he met her. Either way, she walked down the hall, Peter hot on her tail, until she saw a sign on the door she was looking for.

“That’s it on your left,” Peter said from behind her.

Cam gasped dramatically. “No, really? I thought I was looking for the door that didn’t say ‘Pepper Potts, CEO.’”

Peter rolled his eyes. “Ha ha,” he said. “Very funny.”

Cam smirked and shrugged. “I try.”

Peter walked up to the door and just went inside, to Cam’s surprise. She looked at him incredulously as he held the door open for her, motioning her inside. “Why didn’t you knock?” she asked quietly as she walked inside.

“Because he doesn’t need to,” a strong woman’s voice said. Cam looked to the desk in the middle of the room to see none other than Pepper Potts, the CEO of Stark Industries and the widow of Tony Stark.

“Hi,” Cam squeaked. Pepper was one of her idols, so she couldn’t believe she was here.

“Hi, Cameron,” Pepper replied, coming around to the front of her desk to shake Cam’s hand. “We’re so excited to have you as part of the team.”

“I go by ‘Cam,’” she managed to get out.

“Oh, I’m sorry!”

“Don’t,” Cam started, “don’t worry about it! I’m very excited to be here.”

“I see you’ve already met Peter,” Pepper said as she walked back behind her desk. “Have a seat, please!”

Peter sat down in one of the two chairs in front of Pepper’s desk. He leaned back, looking at Cam as he put his hands behind his head.

Cam saw movement underneath Pepper’s desk, but as soon as she realized what was happening, there was a loud cry of, “BOO!”

Peter fell backwards out of his chair, landing face first but immediately jumping up perched forward on one hand with the other behind him. It was a pose Cam had seen Spider-Man do on the news, so she added that to another mental note under “Evidence Peter Parker is Spider-Man.”

A little girl, probably 7 or 8 years old, clambered to her feet, giggling. “Gotcha!” she said proudly.

Peter breathed deeply and looked at the ground, smiling and shaking his head. “You sure did, almost scared me to death!”

She giggled again, then ran towards Peter, who scooped her up in his arms, set his chair back up, and sat back down. Cam followed suit, sitting down in the chair next to him.

“This is our new friend, Cam,” Pepper said. “Morgan, can you say hi to Cam?”

The little girl turned her head and rested it on Peter. She waved at Cam. “Hi Cam,” she said softly.

“Hi,” Cam said back. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“This is my daughter, Morgan,” Pepper said. “She insists on coming to work with me during the summer.”

“It’s my company,” Morgan explained to Cam. “I’m going to be the CPO one day!”

“CEO, Morg,” Peter said softly.

Morgan pulled her head off his shoulder and glared at him. “That’s what I said.”

Peter laughed. “Sorry, Squirt, just wanted to make sure I heard you right.”

“You will,” Cam said to Morgan. She leaned in really close to her, then whispered: “Can I be your Vice President? When you’re the CPO?”

Morgan thought for a moment. “Yep. I’ll need someone with your, um, qual-i-fi-ca-tions.” She looked proudly at her mom after slowly pronouncing each syllable with precise annunciation.

Pepper shook her head, laughing. “Cam is definitely qualified.”

Morgan looked triumphantly at Cam. “You’re hired.”

Cam laughed. “I look forward to working with you, Miss Morgan.”

Peter chuckled, ruffling Morgan’s hair. “We gotta talk to your mom now, ‘kay?”

“Okay,” Morgan said, then laid her head back down on Peter’s shoulder.

“Alright,” Pepper said, folding her hands and putting them on the desk in front of her. “So, like I said, you’ll be working with Peter here doing some research for us. As I’m sure you know, Stark Industries has kind of become a, um, home for ‘superheroes,’ if you will, and we’ve begun research on one of these people’s item of choice.”

“Spider-Man’s web stuff, right?” Cam asked.

Pepper nodded. “Peter tell you in the elevator?”

“Sure did.”

“That’s exactly right. A lot of people are very interested in it, and—.”

“Excuse me? Mommy?” Morgan interrupted.

“Yes ma’am?” Pepper looked at Morgan.

“May I be excused to go potty?”

“Yes, you may, thanks for asking! Peter, will you take her?”

Morgan slid off Peter’s lap and Peter stood up. “I would be honored!” he cried. He took Morgan’s hand, then the two walked out of the room together.

Cam shifted in her chair. “So, um, Peter’s Spider-Man, right?”

Pepper pressed her lips together. “He told you too much in the elevator, huh?”

“Yes ma’am, he sure did.”

Pepper sighed. “He thinks he’s subtle about it, but he’s just excited. Please don’t tell him you know, at least not until he tells you. And act surprised when he tells you.”

“How many people know?” Cam asked.

“Um, probably everyone that works in the building. It’s a miracle he’s not all over the papers.”

“I’ll keep it to myself,” Cam laughed. “But it’s his web stuff we’re researching?”

“Yes. He created it himself, which is incredible to me. He’s a good kid, and he needs something to keep him occupied and safe during the summer, so I promised him and his aunt that he could work here. It’s been a rough few years for him,” Pepper said sadly. “He was very close with my husband.”

Cam nodded. Everyone knew what happened to Tony Stark.

“So just help him with what he needs,” Pepper continued. “He’s got a good little set up just down the hall. He’s essentially your boss, to be honest. It’s his project and we’re happy to fund it. If something happens, you come straight to me, okay?”

Cam nodded again. “Yes ma’am.”

The door swung open and Peter came running in with Morgan on his back, squealing in delight. He ran around the room a few times before he let her down and rejoined Cam and Pepper at the desk. Morgan ran back to her mom and crawled into Pepper’s lap.

“Alright,” Pepper said, hugging Morgan. “That’s all I have for now, Cam, unless you have any questions for me. We’ll send the chief administrator to do paperwork with you in a little bit. Otherwise, it’s all you, Peter!”

Peter grinned. “Lab time?”

Pepper smiled softly and nodded in response. Peter’s grin brightened, if it were possible.

Morgan looked up at her mom. “Mommy, can I go with Peter?”

“I’m sorry, sweetie, Peter’s going to work on his special project,” Pepper explained.

“And only grown-ups are allowed in Peter’s lab,” Morgan recited, as if she’d heard it a million times before. “I can’t wait to be a grown-up so I can help Peter, too!”

Pepper kissed Morgan’s head. “He’d love that, sweetheart.”

“I sure would,” Peter agreed. “But I’ll see you for our dinner date, okay Squirt?”

“Okay!” Morgan cheered. She slid off Pepper’s lap, then skipped to the corner of the room where a myriad of toys lay on the floor.

“We’ll see ya later, Pepper!” Peter claimed, standing up and walking towards the door. Cameron quickly stood up and scurried after Peter, wondering, how does he move so goddamn fast?

She was a little out of breath when she and Peter reached the lab. Peter Parker moved far quicker than he should have, and she wondered if it was because of all that Spider-Man shit. What even was the story on that?

“So here it is!” Peter proudly sang. “This is where the magic happens.”

Cam gave him a look, unamused.

Peter giggled, unphased. “So, until you get your keycard, I’ll have to key you in,” he began, swiping his badge and opening the door. The lights of the lab automatically came on, illuminating the various equipment strewn about the room. Cam gazed around, taking in everything.

Peter was grinning from ear to ear. “It’s um, pretty sick, right?” he asked, puffing his chest up a little. “I designed the whole thing myself.”

Cam started walking around the perimeter of the room, looking in jars, reading labels, checking out the equipment. It was an impressive set up; Peter had all the latest tech in his little lab, to no one’s surprise.

“This is some pretty impressive shit, Parker,” Cam said, leaning against a counter and crossing her arms. “What do you need me here for?”

“I mean, what’s not to like about a physics and electrical engineering double major from Georgia Tech?” Peter spouted. “I didn’t even know they let you double major in those.”

“I mean,” Cam began, “they usually don’t. I had to petition them hard to let me do it. They told me, ‘If I wanted to do that I should’ve gone to MIT.’”

“What’s so bad about MIT?” Peter asked, mimicking Cam’s stance and smirking.

“It’s in the north, that’s what’s so bad about MIT. I’m a Southern girl, through and through.”

“But you’re in the north right now, aren’t you?”

“For the summer, yeah,” Cam countered. “I hate snow. I could never live up here full-time.”

Peter gaped. “You hate snow? Why?”

“It’s cold and wet and makes everything else cold and wet.” Cam shuddered at the thought of the winter in New York.

Peter continued to stare. “Wow.”

“Bet you couldn’t survive a day in a Georgia summer,” Cam challenged with a grin.

“Oh really?” Peter countered. “How so?”

“Well, y’all don’t know anything about humidity up here. At home in the middle of July, good God you can’t leave the house for a second without sweat pouring down your whole body,” Cam explained. “It can get up to 90 degrees plus one hundred percent humidity.”

“Whoa, what?” Peter was taken aback. “How is that possible?”

Cam shrugged. “Wish I knew, Parker, wish I knew. So, are we gonna, like, work?”

“Oh,” Peter said, a little disappointed.

The feeling is mutual, Cam thought. Peter Parker was a really cool dude.

“Oh, my god!” Peter laughed, walking Cameron down the street to his favorite cafe. “People in the south really say that?”

“Oh yeah,” Cam replied. “I can’t tell you how many goddamn racist comments I hear every day. It’s so blatant it’s crazy. Once, my great-grandfather met a friend of mine from upstate New York, and when I told him where she was from, he looked at her and deadass say, ‘Oh you’re a Yankee? Well I’m a rebel!’ And cackled about it.”

“Yikes,” Peter said.

“He also told me that if I brought home a black guy he’d disown me, so that was pretty cool too,” Cam said nonchalantly.

Peter’s eyes bulged. “Excuse me?”

“Yep, you heard me exactly right. He uses the n-word with a hard ‘-er’ at the end, too, and sees nothing wrong with it. I had half a thought to bring home a black girl as a fake girlfriend just to see his reaction.”

“Wow.” Peter was blown away.

Cam shrugged. “It’s fine, he’s ninety-nine years old and we’re just waiting for him to die.”

“Cameron!” Peter gasped.

Cam didn’t regret it. It was true; her great-grandfather had lived a long, full life and he himself would tell you he’d been ready to die for thirty years.

But she also rather liked the way Peter said her full name, even though she’d never gone by ‘Cameron.’ Her parents decided she was ‘Cam’ when she was five days old. She didn’t really associate herself with the name ‘Cameron,’ but if that’s what Peter Parker wanted to call her, then she wasn’t going to stop him.

“I mean, he’s been ready to die since he turned seventy,” Cam explained.

“That’s horrible, Cam!” Peter said, holding back a laugh.

“He’s a racist old man, Peter!” Cam said in the same tone. “The south created him that way, and it’s unfortunate. The south creates a lot of people that way.”

“It didn’t create you that way,” Peter said softly.

“Well, yeah, my dad is from the north and my mom is from the south, so I had the best of both worlds. I practically grew up in Philly.”

Peter opened the cafe door for Cam and she stepped inside. “Where’s your mom from?” he asked, letting the door close behind him.

“Tuscaloosa,” she replied, heading towards a small booth in the back corner. “Her parents were Alabama graduates. She went to Georgia Tech, met my dad, stayed in Georgia.”

“Interesting,” Peter said, trailing after her. “Why’d your dad go to Tech?”

“Engineering. He’s a computer engineer, Mom’s a mechanical engineer. They make a great team.” Cam slide into the booth.

“Oh shit,” Peter said softly, sliding in across from Cam. “That’s a lot of money.”

“My parents are minimalists. We spend the money on experiences, not stuff. We understand we’re very lucky and we do what we can to help people that aren’t as lucky as we are,” she explained.

Cam and her family had personally gone on mission trips to different countries every summer since she was eight. Her mom had started an anonymous charity to bring low-cost, long-lived technology to third world countries, and when they could, the Murphy family personally took their technology to the people that needed it. In high school, Cam designed a solar-powered wheelchair specifically for rural communities. She called it “The Off-roader,” and she went with her mom to deliver it all over the world. She adored their summers abroad helping people. She always wished she could stay longer and help more.

She wanted to improve people’s lives with her degrees by making technology more accessible for the people she met on her trips. She knew about Tony Stark’s reach into renewable, sustainable energy, like his arc reactor, and she was hoping that she could utilize some of Stark’s tech and apply it to the work she’d been doing with her parents all her life. She hoped that maybe Stark Industries --and, by extension, Peter Parker-- would share her desire to help make life better for people who weren’t as lucky as she was.

“Oh,” Peter squeaked. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—.”

“It’s cool,” Cam said. “A lot of people think I’m just some entitled white girl, so I’m quick to defend myself.”

“I, um,” Peter stuttered, “I don’t come from a lot of money. My parents died when I was little, so I live with my aunt. My uncle died a few years back, and since then my aunt has been doing her best to keep us afloat. Until Mr. Stark,” Peter’s voice cracked, “gave me this internship, we didn’t have much. Pepper’s made sure we did okay, too, but, um, yeah. I’m rambling, yeah, but, uh, that’s why I said that.”

“You’re fine, Peter,” Cam said, smiling softly. He was such a sweetheart, she could barely stand it. “I’m sorry I snapped at you.”

“Don’t be, I understand exactly where you’re coming from. I’ve been working at Stark for so long that people assume things about me, too, and I’d do the same thing.” Peter smiled back.

“You’re a pretty cool guy, Parker,” Cam said as a waiter came up to them. “This is gonna be a fun summer.”

buy me a coffee maybe? (i’m saving money for grad school!) | masterlist

tags: open!

@shutyourmoustache @dtftomholland @madmadmilk @starksparker @spiderboytotherescue @bensbuttercup @upsidedownparker @parkerpuffwrites @parkerpete @peterplanet @petersbackpack @heavenlyhollands @heavenly--osterfield @borhapparker @hollandroos @tomhollandeu @thewackywriter @musiclover1263 @sincerelymlg @paradoxparker @all-the-best-people-are-weird @printedpeterparker @starlightfound @its-obrosey-bitch @ohsweetcarol @trashqueenbitch @spidermanfarfromhome

#peter parker #peter parker fic #peter parker fanfic #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker fics #peter parker fanfics #peter parker fanfictions #peter parker x oc #peter parker x original character #endgame spoilers #avengers endgame spoilers #spiderman fic #spiderman #tom holland

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pixie-mage · 6 years

Text

#SamLives - Pt.11

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Also find the latest chapters of this story on [Archive Of Our Own]

[This story has been edited and reposted on the official #SamLives Tumblr. The new post of Chapter 11 can be found here.]

(There is a big difference between the phone calls in this version and the updated version of Chapter 11. This version features Signe; the updated version features Robin.)

Jack hadn’t been lying when he’d said that he and Mark were planning on doing some collabs. In the few days that followed the initial video, they recorded a good nine or ten videos worth of content each, most of it consisting of two-player games. (Being able to record one session for two channels had its perks.) Jack still hadn’t gotten over his wariness of technology in that time. He had to steel his nerves before starting every session, had to take a breath before hitting ‘record’. He found himself frequently checking his facecam on the monitor to make sure nobody was in the background, and every flicker, every stutter, every lag in whatever game he was playing made his hands tense and his breath hitch.

Today was no different. After spending a good five minutes mentally convincing himself that his computer mouse wasn’t about to come to life and strangle him, he and Mark dove head-first into a new game of “Sea of Thieves”. It was just the two of them this time, with no time to schedule a play time with Bob or Wade or Ethan. At the moment, Jack was trying to fend off skeletal attackers while his friend dug up the buried treasure.

“Shit! Fuck! Fuckin’ bastards!” He took another swipe at the nearest skeleton, cutting it down. Another attacker was quick to take its place. “Hah! That’ll teach ye not to mess wit’ ol’ Jackaboy.”

He pulled out a blunderbuss and took two shots straight through the newcomer’s chest.

“DIE BITCHES! How’s that chest comin’, Markerino?”

Mark, who Jack now realized had been oddly quiet the past few minutes, let out only a distracted hum in response. Jack turned his avatar to look at Mark’s rather voluptuous character, only to find him standing still over the half-buried treasure chest. Jack chuckled, a little bewildered.

“Mark? Th’ fuck are you doin’?” he took a shot at another skeleton. “Are ye just waiting for it to unbury itself or–”

Thwack!

The familiar-yet-unexpected sound made Jack jump, his heart pounding in his chest as he whipped his head around to stare at Mark. The other YouTuber had turned his seat away from the desk, NERF gun in hand, aiming at the closed door with narrowed, focussed eyes.

What the fucking–

Jack swallowed thickly and took a slow breath, his panic ebbing away to make room for amused irritation. He swiped a small crocheted Sam from his desk and chucked it at the side of Mark’s head.

“Hey! What–?!”

“Don’t fuckin’ scare me like that, shithead!” Jack shoved Mark’s shoulder playfully. “What th’ hell was that for?”

“Target practice.”

Mark’s grin was cheeky and a little mocking.

Jack blinked at him, slowly, fixing him with a look that clearly said ‘Are you fucking kidding me right now?’ He snatched the NERF gun from Mark’s hand with a barely-restrained chuckle and brandished it in the other’s face. Mark took a swipe at it, pouting and trying to take back his toy.

“Hey!”

It turned into a game of Keep Away, with Jack holding the NERF gun high above his head and Mark practically falling out of his chair and climbing over Jack in his attempt to reach it.

“I’ll use you fer target practice if you don’t–”

“Jack! Give that back, you asshole!"

“–get your head back in the game!” Jack suddenly whipped the NERF gun back at Mark, who fumbled to catch it. “I’m dyin’ here!”

Mark clutched the gun tightly to his chest and retreated to the safety of his seat, pouting and hugging the toy as though Jack might attempt to steal it from him again. He stuck his tongue out childishly before turning back to his screen - and he stifled a laugh.

“Uh…” He carefully set his precious plastic weapon on the desk, out of Jack’s reach. “Not to alarm you, but I think we’re already dead.”

Jack’s focus snapped to his own screen, and sure enough, both he and Mark were now standing on the deck of a ghost ship, waiting their turn to return to the land of the living. He threw his hands in the air and flopped backwards in his chair.

“Fuckin’ DAMMIT all!” He sank in his seat with a groan, Mark’s deep giggles permeating the air around them both. “I blame you entirely for that.”

“Yeah...heh...yeah, that’s...that’s on me. Sorry, man…” Mark still hadn’t stopped giggling, his mood far too bright to be dimmed by a death in the game.

“I’m makin’ sure everyone knows it’s your fault,” Jack bemoaned from his slouched position. “I’m gonna make you buy me a fancy-ass tombstone, an’ put one o’ those shitty rhyming couplets on it…”

He held his hands out in front of him, pretending to frame the words.

“Here lies Jack Just blame his friend Whose NERF dart brought Their bitter end.”

Mark’s only response was a slow golf clap while he pretended to be tearing up.

“Beautiful,” he told Jack, voice laced with false emotion. “Absolutely beautiful. You should’ve become a poet instead of a YouTuber. Clearly you were meant for greater things than video game commentary.”

Jack almost fell out of his chair in his attempt to chuck another Sam plush at Mark’s head.

“D’you think that cop really believed that nothing was wrong?” Jack asked Mark with a mutter later that evening.

Mark had already sent the day’s raw videos from both him and Jack to Robin, and Robin was planning on doing a little bit of content cutting before passing them along to Kathryn. There were certain things that had to be cut out from their recordings that really, really didn’t need to be shared with anyone beyond their immediate group. Not yet.

“The guy from the other day?” Mark asked, looking up from his phone. “I dunno. I mean I don’t think he believed all the anonymous tips, anyway. He was trying not to crack a smile the whole time he was explaining stuff to us.”

Apparently, some of Jack’s fans had taken Anti’s appearance on the stream at face value. They had believed (rightfully so) that it was real, and when Jack went silent on all forms of social media for more than twenty-four hours after it had happened, people had started to panic. While nobody knew for sure where Jack and Signe lived, the local police station in Brighton had gotten call after call after call from concerned teens and young adults who all claimed that a YouTuber named Sean McLoughlin had almost been killed on a livestream. If it hadn’t been for the sheer number of phone calls and the video proof that looked almost too real to have been edited, Jack was sure the police would have ignored it.

But two days ago - three days after the stream itself - a police officer had come knocking on the apartment door asking if a Sean McLoughlin or a Jacksepticeye lived there.

After explaining - through stifled grinning and amused chuckles - that a lot of fans thought he had been hurt, Mark and Jack had tried to awkwardly laugh it off and explain that, no, it was just a video, and nobody had actually gotten hurt.

(Jack was wearing makeup on his neck again for recording, thank god, otherwise the bruises might have brought on some unwanted questions. As it was...)

“I dunno man.” Jack sighed deeply and scrubbed his hands over his face, sinking back on the couch. “I swear he kept lookin’ at my neck. I’m sure he watched the video for th’ sake of the calls. Probably checkin’ to see if I really got strangled.”

“Ah, quit worrying. I’m sure it’ll be fine.” Mark scrolled through Twitter again, reading a few more tweets before, “...and we’re sure we don’t want to get the police involved?”

Jack leveled him with a blank stare.

“Do you honestly think the police are gonna know how to deal wit’ a computer virus of a demon that came to life from my YouTube channel? I mean WE barely know what we’re doing and we’re fully invested in the lore of it all!”

Mark stifled a laugh.

“Okay, yeah good point,” he admitted. He shook his head, eyes falling back to his phone gain. “Fully invested in the lore...god, we sound like we’re trying to solve Five Nights At Freddy’s conspiracies. That’s how complicated this whole mess has become. Frankly, if anyone overheard what we were talking about in the cafe that first day I showed up, they’d probably think–”

Jack jolted upright in his seat, eyes wide and expression one of stunned realization.

“Holy shit.” He grabbed Mark’s arm and shook him a little, his movements suddenly intense and a brilliant grin splitting his face in two. “Holy shit!”

“Holy shit what?” Mark gripped his phone a little tighter so it wouldn’t go flying out of his hands from Jack’s enthusiasm.

“Mark, you’re a fuckin’ genius!”

“Well - I mean, yeah, I thought we established that, but what the hell did I say?!”

Mark was rightfully very bewildered by his friend’s sudden change of mood. He gave Jack a quick once-over with his eyebrows raised, wondering if he should be concerned.

“Five Nights at Freddy’s!” Jack exclaimed. He looked far too excited and far too proud of himself for his own good.

“...Five Nights at–”

“Dude! Don’t you get it?” Jack leapt up off the couch, pacing, and Sam - who had been dozing in Jack’s hoodie pocket - poked his ‘face’ out with a sleepy blink, wondering what all the commotion was about. “This whole thing is too fuckin’ complicated right now, right? We don’t know what exactly Anti is, or how to stop him from comin’ back. He’s solid but he’s not. He’s made of glitches but - who the hell even knows what that means.”

“Okay…?” Mark just watched the Irishman pace the room, his phone long forgotten in his lap. “Where are you going with this?”

“Anti doesn’t make sense!” Jack was grinning like an idiot. He stopped in his tracks to turn and face Mark. “We know why he’s here but that only gets us so far! We need somebody who’s used to picking apart ridiculous bullshit to find the real answers, somebody who already kinda knows what’s going on.”

“Jack, you’ve lost me,” Mark said flatly. “Who are you talking about, Signe? Amy?”

“No!” Jack was talking with his hands, talking with his entire body, like he couldn’t contain all the energy that had built up inside him. “Five Nights at Freddy’s. Crazy timeline. Bullshit lore. There’s only one person I know who was able to tear that shit to pieces and make sense out of it.”

And then it hit Mark like a load of bricks, and he was on his feet too, his exclamation coming out as a loud and incredulous question in the same moment that Jack was busting out the same words.

“MatPat?!”

“MatPat!”

“Waitwaitwait, hold on–” Mark was trying to sort out his thoughts, pinching the bridge of his nose while he watched Jack rush around in a frantic search for his cell phone. Mark didn’t have it right now and Jack couldn’t quite remember where it had ended up. “What the hell do you mean Matt already knows what’s going on?”

“Well, okay, he doesn’t know about Anti,” Jack admitted, his ass in the air while he leaned over the armchair in the corner to see if his phone was plugged in back there. “He knows about Sam though.”

“He knows about Sam?!” Mark’s jaw dropped.

At this point, Sam had abandoned Jack’s pocket to hover a few steps behind the Irishman, watching him with quiet curiosity. At Mark’s question, Sam let out a happy little squeak and nodded, twirling through the air a little.

“Did you tell him before you told me?” Before Jack could even answer, Mark had continued: “But he posted a video like two weeks ago about how Sam couldn’t possibly exist!”

“Well, duh, he posted that because he knows about Sam,” Jack rolled his eyes and shoved away from the armchair, detouring to the kitchen. He spoke up to be heard across the apartment. “He was tryin’ to throw people off. And I didn’t tell him about Sam.” Jack returned to the living room, cell phone in hand and a sheepish smile on his face. “He...er...kinda found out on his own.”

“How?”

“Tacos and Rachel Ray.”

Mark didn’t know how to respond to that.

“I have no idea how to respond to that.”

“Look…” Jack huffed and came back over to Mark, sitting on the edge of the coffee table while his friend sank slowly back onto the couch. Sam settled onto his shoulder and nuzzled up against Jack’s cheek with a quiet purr. “Sam was sick, so I brought him with me for the taco-making contest. Matt was on my team. He bumped into me, I tripped, Sam almost fell out of my hood, and Matt saw him.”

“And he didn’t freak out?”

Jack’s lips twitched into a wry smile and he looked up from his phone.

“Oh, he freaked out, but not until later.”

“Let me get this straight.” Mark watched Jack carefully as he spoke. Jack nodded and went back to shakily tapping out a message to Matt. “Just so we’re both on the same page. Sam exists, clearly. Anti exists. You, me, Signe, Robin, and Matt know about Sam. You, me, and Robin know about Anti.”

“And Signe, sort of.”

“And Signe,” Mark agreed. “And Amy too, come to think of it. Is there anybody else who knows anything else, just in case we need to recruit people for a battle of the digital age?”

“Nope, nobody else,” Jack shook his head. He paused and looked thoughtful, setting his phone aside (looking relieved to get the thing out of his hands) and tapping his chin. “...though I probably should bring up that Anti mentioned being late for a date or something last time? What was the name...something...something Warfstache…?”

Mark looked like he might explode

“WHAT?!”

“Oh my god!” Jack cackled, doubling over with laughter and trying not to slip off the edge of the coffee table he was sitting on. “Oh my fucking god your face! That was PRICELESS! You fuckin’ - Haha! - f-fuckin’ believed–” He could barely breathe he was laughing so hard, his laughter sounding a little wheezy.

Mark groaned and flopped backward across the couch, a low, pained chuckled escaping him.

”Oh, you absolutely piece of shit. Fuck you.”

“Y-Yeah, I - heh - I probably...haha...deserve that one…” Jack was grinning, wiping tears from his eyes.

Sam had bounced over to Mark to make sure he was okay and was now nestled on the American’s chest, Tim’s curious little eyes watching from the arm of the couch not even a foot away. The little box tumbled forward and landed right next to Mark’s head, patting his cheek softly in what Jack assumed was a comforting motion. Another low, rumbling laugh bubbled up from Mark’s chest.

“But no, to answer your question,” Jack continued once he could breathe again. “I think that’s everyone.”

“Good. Great. Excellent.”

Mark was absolutely done. Just...done.

“Ah, lighten up, Markimoo,” Jack snickered. “Consider it payback fer that NERF scare.”

“Considering that you were implying that Warfstache is alive too, and that he and your evil twin are getting it on–”

“Hey! I only said they went on a date!”

“–I’d say we’re far from even right now.”

“Oh, fuck off! That’s totally even!”

“And what if I tricked you into thinking your Dr. Schneep guy was alive and I caught him flirting with Dr. Iplier?”

“Oh, dude, no,” Jack groaned, laughing through it. “Nooo...I mean, yeah, Henrik totally would. He’d flirt with anything that moved. But hell no.”

“See my point?”

The living room was silent for a long moment, save for the little questioning squeaks Sam was making from his position on Mark’s chest. Then Mark heard the buzzing clatter of plastic against the coffee table. Jack’s phone was ringing, but on silent. Mark cracked open one eye to glance at Jack, who suddenly looked a lot more tense than he had a moment before.

“...you good, Jack?” he murmured, watching the other YouTuber. Jack nodded stiffly, looking a little pale. “Is it MatPat? He calling back already?”

Jack swallowed thickly.

“It’s...Signe.”

“Answer it,” Mark encouraged him evenly. “Go ahead. We’re all in the room with you, it’ll be fine.”

Jack nodded, the motion a little jerky, and he reached over to press the ‘Answer’ button. He quickly put it on speaker and withdrew his hand as though he’d been burned. The phone stayed sitting on the table.

“Sean?”

“Hey Signe,” Jack murmured.

Mark could see some of the tension melt out of the Irishman’s shoulders when he heard her voice, saw the way his lips quirked into a smile at the corners and the way his eyes softened in the moment.

“Hi! I just wanted to check in,” Signe continued, a smile in her voice. “How’s everything going? How’s Sam?”

“Sam’s great!” Jack’s grin became more genuine, and he giggled when Sam bounced over to sit beside the phone. He was wiggling on the spot in excitement. “He and Tim are gettin’ along famously. He’s been so damn happy, Wiish, I can’t wait for you to see ‘em together.”

“You can thank me later,” Mark chimed in with a smirk.

“Is that Mark?” Signe asked. “Am I on speaker?”

“Oh! Yeah, you are. Sorry. Shoulda said.” Jack chuckled softly.

“No, it’s fine!” Signe giggled, the sound melodic even through a phone speaker. “Hi Mark!”

“Hi Signe!”

“How are you doing though, Sean?” Signe’s tone had turned concerned, softer than before. “You still haven’t told me what’s going on with the whole Antisepticeye thing.”

Jack stiffened. He could feel Mark’s eyes on him, his look a knowing one. It had been five whole days since he’d talked to Signe at the cafe, and while they had texted back and forth every day since (in very brief interludes, as there were still moments Jack couldn’t even look at his own TV for fear of Anti jumping out of the dimmed pixels, let alone carry his phone in his pocket all day), not once had Jack brought up the livestream. Any time she asked about it he evaded her questions and promised to explain soon and made her promise to please don’t watch the livestream, I’ll tell you when you get home, please wait until then. So far, Signe had done as he’d asked, but he could tell she was growing concerned.

“Eh…” Jack cleared his throat and shrugged, though she couldn’t see it. “I’m fine. A little worn out, but Mark an’ I have been really goin’ hard, knockin’ out tons of videos now so we can get some free time to hang out later…”

“Sean.”

And there it was, the gentle scolding of her Mama Signe voice. How she managed to make Jack feel like a misbehaving child every time she used it was a mystery to him...but it worked. Every damn time. He sighed and let out a quiet groan.

“I’ll tell you soon, I promise,” he whimpered. “I promise I will, it’s - it’s just - I can’t–” He dragged a hand through his hair, and his gaze landed on Mark. The other YouTuber had sat up in the past few minutes and was leaning forward with his elbows resting on his knees, his expression a searching one. He quirked an eyebrow at the Irishman.

“One second, Wiishu,” he said softly, reaching over to tap the ‘mute’ button on Jack’s phone. He watched his friend for a long moment before speaking. “Jack...I’m not gonna push you to tell her, but - oh my god, man. It’s almost been a whole week. The longer you wait, the more likely it’ll be for her to figure it out on her own. She already told you yesterday, people have been sending her tons of tweets and tumblr messages asking about you. Didn’t she ask you why they wanted know if you’re dead or not?”

Jack nodded stiffly, wincing.

“I told you I’d help you tell her the truth.” Mark smiled reassuringly. “I meant that, okay? And - hell, I can get Amy on the line, and we can have a big ol’ Double Date Egos Theory Skype Call.”

Jack snorted out a nervous laugh, shaking his head in amusement. Double date…

“Only you would see it as a date opportunity, Mark.”

“What can I say?” Mark grinned cheekily and winked. “I’m a hopeless romantic.” His grin faded back to a soft, understanding smile and he tried to catch Jack’s eye. “Waddaya say? You up for it?”

“...I eh…” Jack stared at his hands, his fingers fiddling with the hem of his sweatshirt while he thought.

Was he ready to tell Signe yet? Would she even believe him? Would she freak out, or take it all in stride? He didn’t want to worry her and didn’t want to put her in danger. He had known that, once she was home, he would have no choice but to tell her - so that had been his plan. To tell her when she got home, and let her enjoy her time with her family free of any of Jack’s current stresses. Once she was back in Brighton they could clear the air and talk about how to move forward.

But Mark was right too. The longer he waited, the worse it could get.

Jack sighed heavily. His hand was shaking when he reached for his phone, but he still pressed the ‘mute’ button to let Signe hear them again.

“Hey Wiish,” he mumbled, to let her know he was back. “You there?”

“Still here, Sean.” The usual sweet lilt was in her voice, her tone smiling and her words kind.

It helped Jack with what he knew he had to do next.

“I...eh. D’you mind waitin’ a few minutes?” he asked, wringing his hands in his lap. “Mark’s gonna get Amy on a Skype call wit’ us, an’ we can all talk face-to-face, and I’ll...I’ll fill you in on what’s been, er, happenin’ in my part of the world.”

“Really?” Signe asked, sounding surprised. “You’re actually going to tell me this time?”

“I - yeah. Yeah, I am.” Jack took a breath. His nervousness was clear with every word that left his mouth. “I’ll tell you everything.”

“Wait!”

Mark’s outburst made Jack jump and his head shot up.

“What–”

“My smoothie! I totally forgot my smoothie!”

Jack stared, and he heard Signe giggling on the other end of the call.

“Your smoothie,” he repeated, his lips twitching into some semblance of a smile. “You mean the one from after dinner? From, like, two hours ago?”

“Yes, from after dinner!” Mark rocketed off the couch, skirting the coffee table and grabbing his rental car keys as he went to the door. “It’s still in the car. This is super serious.”

“Super serious?” Jack repeated. He watched Tim bounce off the couch and hop curiously around the room in pursuit of Mark, doing his best to keep up. “More serious than Serious Shit?”

“YES! MORE SERIOUS THAN THAT!” Mark, who almost stepped on Tim in his haste to get to the door, let out a rather undignified squeak and immediately crouched to the ground beside the tiny box. “Oh, I'm so sorry! Are you okay? Did I hurt you? C’mere, my little biscuit, let’s get you off the floor. I would neeeever want you to get hurt, I would neeeever step on you…”

“Oh my god, Mark, you’re such a mom.”

“What? It’s not like you’re not the same way with Sam!”

At this, Jack chucked a pillow from the couch across the room, hitting Mark in the legs to avoid hitting Tim.

“Go get your fuckin’ smoothie!”

“Fine! I will!”

Mark flipped him off and pretended to storm out of the apartment, putting Tim on his shoulder and “slamming” the door shut (only to stop it at the last second to close it with a quiet click.) Jack shook his head with a smile. Only Mark.

“Hey...Sean?”

“Hm?” Jack returned his attention to his phone, still sitting beside him on the coffee table. “What’s up?”

“I wanted to ask...you said Anti is real, right?”

“Yeah…” His answer was a tense one, his hands coming up to fiddle with the strings of his hoodie.

“Did…” Signe’s voice trailed off, and there was static in the speaker, like she had taken a breath. “Did he hurt you, on the stream?”

Jack swallowed thickly. He was suddenly very aware of the sore bruises on his throat, and he felt rather than saw Sam land lightly on his shoulder.

“What...eh…” He cleared his throat, and Sam nuzzled up against his jaw, little waves of reassurance and worry filtering into the back of his mind. “...w-what makes ye ask that?”

“I told you I was getting messages and asks,” she told him. He could hear footsteps in the background, movement. Like she was pacing. “And I turned them off for now, because I was going to wait until you told me what was going on. And I know you’re going to! But...I’ve been tagged in a few things too. I saw some gifs of you and Anti–”

Jack closed his eyes, his jaw clenching tightly. Oh. Hands shaking, Jack picked his phone up off the coffee table and took the call off speaker, holding the mobile to his ear and getting to his feet.

“Holdin’ me up against the...eh...th’ wall?” he asked hoarsely. His movements were stiff, his footing a little unsteady as he crossed the room to pick up the pillow he’d thrown at Mark. He squeezed the edge of it tightly in his hand, lingering there by the door.

“...yeah.” Signe took another deep breath on the other end of the line, and when she spoke again her voice was shaking. “He – Sean, he was hurting you. That...th-that was real, wasn’t it? It wasn’t Robin’s editing?”

Jack’s chest felt tight, his throat constricting from both the memory and his own emotions. He took a shaking breath and dropped the pillow into the armchair closest to him, his free hand coming up to rest against his opposite shoulder. By Sam. Sam’s tail trailed down and brushed against his fingers, helping to soothe some of the uneasiness that had begun to build inside him.

“N-No, that...that was. Um.” Real. It was real. He blinked rapidly and his grip tightened on his phone. “It really happened.”

Signe gasped sharply from the other end of the line.

“Oh, god, Sean–”

But whatever Signe had been about to say, Jack never found out, because the call was suddenly filled with static and audio distortion, Signe’s words lost in a mass of broken sound that had Jack freezing where he stood.

“...Signe?” he whispered, eyes widening. “Signe...Wiish...I need to go. Okay? I can’t...I can’t hear you, but I th-think–”

The call dropped before Jack even hit the end button, the cell phone slipping from his hand and tumbling to the floor with a quiet thump against the carpet.

There was a static in the air, a crackle, an energy to it that made the hair on the back of Jack's neck stand on end. His breath hitched. The hand that still lingered near his shoulder tensed, and he could feel Sam curl closer to his neck.

"I'm not the only one feelin' that, yeah?" Jack breathed, his eyes darting around his apartment and landing on nothing. He took an involuntary step back toward the door.

"Nuh-uh. I feel it too..." Sam's worried voice floated across the back of his mind. Jack nodded. Alright. So he wasn't crazy.

A lamp across the room sparked and popped, the bulb blowing out suddenly, and even as small of an occurrence as that was it made Jack jump. The room was plunged into darkness. Wide blue eyes latched onto the deadened lamp. "W-What the hell is going on...?" His voice sounded strained, even to his own ears.

But the question he asked was one he was almost certain he knew the answer to. This static, this...tension. Electricity. He knew this feeling. It was one he was far too familiar with, one that he had experienced before.

Anti.

The room had felt much the same as this when Anti had appeared during his stream last time, when he had pinned Jack to the wall by his throat and toyed with him in front of an audience, had left him scared and shaking in a way he never expected he'd have to feel in his life. Until then he hadn't been sure if Anti was real. But now? Now there was no denying it. So the feeling in the air, the tension, the spark? It flooded him with a very real and tangible fear that wasn't without reason.

"Ďid̎ ÿo̊u m̰i͋šs̶ m̰ē?"

A voice, so close, a cold breath against his ear. Jack cried out and flung himself away from the sound, knees hitting carpet as he hurried away from his own front door now, scrambled across the living room with desperate movements, one hand clamped over Sam so he wouldn’t lose him. There, by the door, his smile just as sharp and as wicked as Jack remembered, was the glitch himself. His image crackled and distorted for a moment - Jack could see the pixels separating as he stood there - and a moment later he had flickered forward, appearing a few steps closer.

Shit...shit, shit, shit...he had half a mind to scream, to call for Mark, but at this point Mark had probably already made it down to his car and wouldn't hear anything. All he could hope for now was that he could stall long enough for his friend to make it back inside. Two on one were better odds in this situation.

"I̥ d̠on̪'t e͊v͐enͥ g̴ét a h̒e͊llo̖, J̠åc̮k̾a͈b͗ö́y?"

“Go away!”

Jack’s eyes widened and he went stiff, panic doubling. Sam had wriggled free from his spot on Jack’s shoulder and he was hovering in mid-air between the two men in the room, planting himself boldly before Anti as though he was planning on defending Jack himself.

“Sam, don’t–”

“Leave him alone, you meanie!” Sam sounded so brave, so determined, so…so angry for such a small little being. “You hurt Jack, and you made him sad, and - and–” Sam wriggled in the air and tried to make himself look intimidating. “–and I’m not gonna let you hurt him again!”

Contrary to what Jack was sure Sam had wanted, Anti didn’t look scared at all. In fact, he smiled...a gleeful smile that had Jack dreading whatever was about to happen.

“W̠e͆ll, a̒re̮n't y͞oṳ a̸ b̸ra̢v̜e lĭt͉tle t̹oa̤s̈t̤èr̔?” Anti crooned, his head tilting far to the side in a way that was eerily non-human. He held out a hand, palm-up, and the air above it distorted and warped impossibly. A worn, dark jewelry box appeared there in a flurry of pixels, its lid popped open to reveal the empty space within. “Sȯr̬r̗y t̸o b̓ur̢s̈ţ ŷou̬r͊ b᷆u̫b᷇b̍l͑ě, S̕a̺m̮my̳, b̝u᷈t...yo̔u'rē no̸t̹ ne͑e̓d̐ed f̔o͍r̈ toñḯgh̠t̡'s ća̧s̱t̎ o̱f͗ c̟har̐a͐ct̊e͓r̊s͊.”

Quicker than Jack could react, Anti glitched, vanished, and reappeared inches from Sam with the jewelry box held out before him. With one swooping motion, Anti had flicked Sam into the box, snapped the lid shut, locked it with a key and tossed the box over his shoulder to land neatly on the armchair in the corner.

“NO!” Jack sprang forward without thinking, arm outstretched as though to reach the box–

“D̹ǐd̵ I̽ s͌a̝y y̪o͚u͘ c̡o̾u͎l̦d͗ m̐o͋v̫e͕?”

Before Jack could register the giggling words, he found himself tripping head-over-heels, colliding soundly with the front of the cabinet his television rested on. A jolt of pain pulsed through his shoulder and he cried out, biting his lip, biting his tongue. Desperate fingers clutched at his aching shoulder and he gritted his teeth.

“What the fuck do you want?!” he bit out, panting and tense as he watched Anti slowly stalk toward him across the room. “You here to...to k-kill me? Hurt me? S...Strangle me again?”

“Wh͔a̠ţ d᷁ō ÿ́o̊u̖ t͔ak̓e m̉e̥ f̓or̓, a᷇ s᷀a͂di͉s͟t͊?” Anti scoffed incredulously.

Jack blinked at him, a sassy retort on his lips before he could stop himself.

“What, you - ngh - aren’t one? Could’ve f-fooled me...”

“I'̗m̺ m̛or̬e̍ ǫf a m̭a͒s᷅ochi͙s̜t̕,̘ r͖ea̪l͟l̓y,͏” Anti shrugged. Jack was surprised that Anti had even bothered to answer the question at all. “Bu͂t̢ bo͑t͐h̬ a᷊r̛e͞ p̭r̂ett͒y̎ a͘c̬c᷅u͑ra̻t̎e̍.”

Great. Good to know. Wonderful.

“N̚o̫, i͓t̋'s no͙t̘h̺i̝n᷆g s͕o̻ s͑i̔m͕pl̖e̍ as a̖l̥l̆ t᷁h̄a̓t,” Anti smirked, waving the thought away with one hand.

The air around his palm distorted and glitched, and a shining blade appeared in his hand on the way down.

Oh, fuck.

Anti was a few steps away now, and Jack scrambled backward across the floor, trying to get as much distance between himself and the glitch as possible...but he was cornered, pinned between the side of the TV cabinet and the wall, blocked in with no way out. It was starting to become a struggle to keep his breathing steady, his heart hammering away a tarantella against his ribs, his throat coarse and tight from tension.

The burst bulb from earlier had thrown the room into near-darkness, but what moonlight was coming through the living room window reflected off the sharpened blade in Anti’s hand, the light bouncing off into Jack’s eyes as the glitch knelt in front of him - close, too close - his eyes beginning to swirl with an inky blackness that Jack never wanted to see this close again.

Jack kept his eyes fixed on the blade, wide as saucers, and his breath hitched when he saw it inching closer and closer to his face. The touch of cool metal against his cheek made him tense and he clenched his jaw with a gulp. It wasn’t sharp. It wasn’t painful. Anti was dragging the flat side of the knife along his jawline, and Jack could hear the sound of its edge scraping against the coarse facial hair there.

“No̫…” Anti shook his head, and the sharp grin widened wickedly, appearing to split his face in two. “No, I ẖa͗v̶e m̪ůch...͛mùch᷆ b᷆i͈g͗g᷄er p̓lan̶s᷉ foͥr᷆ yõu͕, Jaͅc̻k.”

Mark was humming to himself as he made his way down to the rental car, the keys jingling in his hand. Tim sat perched on his shoulder, one tiny hand clutching the collar of Mark’s shirt, and he was trying to hum along to whatever song Mark had stuck in his head right now.

It wasn’t his fault Katy Perry’s music was so catchy.

By the time he unlocked and opened the driver’s side door, he was well into the chorus, mumbling the words in an undertone to himself and for Tim’s entertainment.

“California girls, we're undeniable! Fine, fresh, fierce, we got it on lock~” Tim was giggling, and the sound brought a warm smile to Mark’s face. He shifted into the driver’s seat so he could reach his smoothie easier, but not before belting out the next few lyrics at the top of his lungs.

“West coast represent, now put your hands up!”

He did so, dancing in his seat, grinning and playing it up for his little biscuit’s benefit.

“Ooh, oh, ooh! Ooh…”

Something flickered in the corner of his eye, something red...or was it blue?...and he trailed off, a crease forming in his brow. Tim was still giggling softly. Had he been seeing things? With a soft chuckle, he reached over and plucked his half-finished smoothie from the cupholder, still somewhat chilled from the cool weather of the evening.

Yeah, it was probably nothing. The whole Antisepticeye thing had been keeping him on edge since he’d arrived here in England. He pushed himself out of his seat and shut the door behind him. But when he turned to head back inside, something in the reflection in the car’s window caught his attention.

Mark dropped his smoothie.

A quiet thumping rose up across the living room, a rattling that caught Jack’s attention as well as Anti’s.

Sam. Sam was trying to get out.

Anti looked away from his victim for a moment, only for a moment, some space coming between Jack’s cheek and the metal of Anti’s blade.

A moment was all he needed.

Jack lashed out with a fist and a knee, landing a punch square across the glitch’s face and driving a knee up into his gut. Anti tumbled away from him, distorting and flickering, a static-fused snarl of pain and annoyance bubbling up from his prone form. Jack shoved himself to his feet, leaping over Anti and heading for the front door. He had to get out, had to leave, had to get Sam and go–

“I d͓O̬n͈’Ṭ t̉H͠iN̼ḱ sͅO͊!”

Static, feedback, a crackle in the air, and Anti was in front of him again, seething with fury, blocking his exit. Jack was running on pure adrenaline now, veering left and heading down the hall toward the bedrooms. The bathroom. Recording room. Anything.

“y̜O̰u̯’̒R̡e̿ N̈o̽T͔ g̓O̩i᷈N̸g̽ Ản̉Y͋w̳H̤e̦R̸ë́!̉”

There he was again, cutting him off, keeping him trapped in the same room. Shit...fuck…

Mark. Mark was downstairs. He just - he needed to stall, to wait it out until Mark came back with his stupid smoothie. He could make it that long.

Jack did a one-eighty and darted back down the hallway, the rug slipping beneath his feet and making him stumble. He caught himself on the wall and kept going, kept dodging. He could do this. Distract him. Hold him off. Something. Anything.

Green.

...green?

Something green, in the corner of his eye. Green and orange.

Jack risked turning his head, risked a glance, and he caught sight of the NERF gun - Chase’s NERF gun - sitting on the kitchen table. Mark had been playing with the damned thing for days, and for the first time since it had resurfaced Jack was unendingly grateful that Mark had found it again. He made a detour through the kitchen, snatching it up and shoving the ziplock of foam discs into his hoodie pocket.

Disc. Pull back. Load. Click. Wait for it. Be ready.

Jack circled his way back into the living room, Anti’s laughter echoing through the apartment, and he dove behind the coffee table with his plastic weaponed primed. He was ready.

He was terrified.

Jack would be an idiot if he pretended that this entire situation wasn’t scaring him within an inch of his life. He knew - he was trying not to think - that he could die at any second tonight, and that the pixelated parasite hunting him down in his own apartment was far too strong of an opponent for him to handle, with or without Sam. With Mark, maybe he had a chance, but even those odds were slim. If he didn’t die tonight, or if he didn’t at least get stabbed, he was going to drink until morning then invite every single one of his friends over to England to have the party of a fucking lifetime.

“O͗h͢,᷄ Jȁa͚a̕a̓a̻c̈́k̘~” Anti’s distorted, chilling voice echoed through the room and sent a shiver down Jack’s spine. “W͘h̅e͔re a᷇r̰e̶ y̑ou͏ hid͛ǐnͅg̤?”

Jack caught sight of a flickering black sneaker from his hiding spot and he popped up from behind the coffee table, firing the NERF gun at the center of Anti’s chest.

Anti barely flinched as the foam disc bounced off of him with a spark of electricity. He blinked - dark, void-like eyes - and stared down at the harmless green projectile on the floor.

“A̛ n᷄er̼f͈ d̑i͞sč? Ȓe͏a̧ll̐y̕, Ja͙c͂k̇?᷀”

Jack shrugged. He pretended that he wasn’t sweating buckets and shaking like a leaf behind the nerf gun in his hands.

“N-Not like I’ve got anythin’ else.”

“H̆o̲w͘ v᷁e̛ry “C̰h̦a͘s̟e B̜r̵o̦d͔y” o͈f̹ y̬öu͍.”

Somehow the mention of another Ego’s name on Anti’s lips made Jack tense up. It was surreal. It was strange. They were all fake - all of them fictional - yet Anti had somehow become so much more. The concept of the living incarnation of his once-fictional character mentioning another of his still-fictional characters so casually like that...it was unsettling, to say the least. Jack squeezed his eyes shut and swallowed. He just needed to hold out a little longer, just a little while longer, until Mark came back from the car. Keep talking. Keep going...

“W-Well...well…it’s t-technically his gun...s-so…”

Jack opened his eyes.

Anti wasn’t there.

“I̚ kn̴ơw̼ w̖h̖a̽ẗ y᷆o̠u᷄’͍r͖e do̕i͖n̖g̉.”

The chilling voice seemed to come from all sides at once, and Jack could make out flickers of pixels and static in the dark shadows of the room. He fumbled with the ziplock in his pocket, pulling out a foam disc to load his NERF gun again.

“Oh?” Jack asked, his voice coming out higher than he’d intended. “Do…” He cleared his throat. “...do you now?”

“M᷅a̪r̿k̀i̟pl̻i̘e͛r᷀ i̵sn̄’t͡ c̊o͇m̕i͝n̩g͚ to͆ s̲a͙v᷀e͎ yo̫u̥.”

Jack’s blood ran cold.

“What–”

“H᷁e’̘s̎...ă li͢t̺t͖l̷e᷄ ţie͓d᷄ u̯p̉ a̳t̀ th̪e͡ m̘oͥmȩn͇ẗ́.” Anti’s distorted giggle echoed and circled in the empty air, causing goosebumps to sprout up along Jack’s arms. His breath hitched, eyes flying wildly around the room, trying to spot any sign of his doppleganger. “Y᷇o᷅u̥ wer͖e̸ṇ’t̃ p̼l̯a̿yi̟n͘g̉ fa̯ir̤, Ja̒c̉k̩a̫b᷉o͎y…” The next words came front right over his shoulder, whispered into his ear like a dirty secret. “...s̥o̾ Į le͍veͅlèd͎ t̏h̬e͕ p̭l̎ay᷊i̹n͑g̵ fi̥el͔d͙.͝ Ġot̥ ą c̋er̒t̛a͙i͇n da̢r͍k a̭cq̑ŭa̖in͊t̮a̠n̸ce̬ of̿ m̪i̎ne t͖õ ẖęl̍p̖ m̓e̺ o̢u̟t a̲ li̫t͕t᷈l̪e.”

Mark was scared to blink, staring at his own reflection in the car’s window with his jaw clenched, a vein pulsing in his neck. A figure stood just behind his shoulder, his body outlined in a familiar red and blue, looking so familiar yet so foreign at the same time. By the time his smoothie hit the concrete and burst open, splattering the ground, only fractions of a second had passed...but it felt like an eternity. He blinked.

Dark was gone.

“Mark?” Tim’s voice cropped up beside his ear, confused and a little worried.

“...hold on to me, okay?” Mark murmured, and he brought a hand up to try and shield his familiar from whatever might happen. Whoever might happen.

“I’m not here for him, you know.”

The voice, deep and echoing and so like his own but different, startled him into turning around. He hadn’t been in the reflection, but he hadn’t actually left. His name left Mark’s lips in a strained whisper.

“Darkiplier.”

“Face-to-face, at long last,” Dark nodded. He smirked, folding his hands behind his back. “And like I said...I’m only here for you. This is all coming from your mind, Mark.”

“Mark? What’re you lookin’ at?”

Tim. He sounded so innocent and confused, so worried about Mark, and what Dark was saying suddenly registered in Mark’s mind.

“Tim can’t see you, can he?”

“Tim doesn’t have to see me,” Dark corrected, raising an eyebrow in clear impatience. “I don’t want him to see me, therefore he can’t. But you…” His head tilted to the side and he made his neck pop, his shell cracking and separating for a moment. Then he leaned forward, intrigued. “...you, I can never quite hide from. Not completely. Why is that?”

“I...don’t know,” Mark shook his head, confused. Lost. Dark was here, and he was very real, and he was talking to Mark as though none of this was odd. “Maybe...uh....maybe because I made you?”

“Y̙̭o͏̖͔͙͓̼u d͇͈̭i͎̤͉ḍ̼̠̭̟̯͡n̡͕͎̙̜’̠̹̫̦͙͡t ̝ma̟k̼͎͝e̗̗̱͈̬ͅ m̰̥ḛ.”

There was an echoing fury boiling under the words, and the air around Dark seemed to darken considerably in the moment. Mark took an involuntary step back towards his car.

“I - what?”

“You didn’t make me.” Dark’s anaglyphic image was separating, tearing itself apart, and one of his echoing reflections seemed to scream silently into the cold night air. All the while, his core image remained stern and unyielding, showing barely any emotion at all. “You destroyed me - destroyed us. You stole his body. You condemned her to hell. You drove him to insanity. You ruined their lives.”

It clicked, then, what Dark was talking about. This was exactly what Mark had been scared of, worried about, when he was talking to Jack in that cafe. This was why he was regretting the creation of “Who Killed Markiplier”...or more accurately, he was regretting the addition of the character of Mark. The Mark who was an actor. The Mark who was an asshole. The fictional Mark who ruined everything and destroyed so many people…

...Dark was under the impression that Actor Mark and YouTube Mark were one and the same.

Mark blinked, and suddenly Dark was so much closer than he had been before. The darkness that had been enveloping the demon was surrounding Mark too now, and it was absolutely suffocating.

“...but, I suppose I should be thanking you,” Dark continued, a smirk finding its way onto his face. He tilted his head to the side, regarding Mark thoughtfully. “In a way, you...are the reason I exist. Your damnation of your friends led to my creation. A part of me is furious...but a part of me is more than grateful. You set the darkness free, Mark.”

Mark’s heart was pounding, rapid, in his chest and he could feel a minute panic slowly flooding his very soul. He gulped and shook his head, one hand still holding Tim close - Tim, who had fallen strangely silent, though Mark didn’t stop to question it.

Dark wasn’t here to hurt him. Dark didn’t resort to physical violence unless he had to, Mark had written him that way. While Anti went straight for the knife, Dark resorted to other means of making his point and making his mark.

This was all in his mind. Dark wasn’t physically here.

“What are you doing here?” he asked. “You...I’ve been seeing you, for months, but this is the first time you’ve actually spoken to me. What changed?”

Dark’s gaze trailed off to the side, toward the apartment, before settling back on Mark.

“A friend asked for a favor.” He quirked an eyebrow. “I merely agreed.”

A cry of pain broke the odd non-silence of the evening, a cry of pain that sounded all too familiar and was coming from the apartment Mark had been trying to return to. His eyes widened.

A friend asked for a favor.

A friend of Dark’s. Anti.

“Jack!”

Mark shoved away from the car and ran through Dark’s mirage of a body, the blue and red dispersing into wisps of dark smoke. Mark only made it halfway to the stairs.

“Clever boy. But you can’t leave. Not yet.”

Dark’s voice echoed in his mind, sending a blinding pain through his skull that brought him to his knees with a shout. He clutched at his head, fingers tangling in his hair and digging into his scalp. He felt rather than saw Tim tumble off of his shoulder, falling the few feet to the ground, making Mark wince in sympathy. There wasn’t enough strength in him to free himself from the mental onslaught, let alone help his tiny friend.

But he needed to. He needed to get Dark out of his head, needed to help Jack. If Dark was out here, then Anti must be in there, and he’d already seen what Anti had done to Jack the last time he had shown up. It wasn’t pretty. Mark didn’t fancy seeing a reenactment.

Get out...get out!

“Why would I? I have a job to do, Mark. You better than anyone should know that I never put in a half effort.”

Images began to surface in his mind, horrible images, memories that had never happened...memories of his friends, his real friends, getting hurt…

Please don’t. They don’t deserve this.

“Neither did Damien. Neither did Celine. Neither did William.”

“That...w-wasn’t me!” he protested, finally finding his voice, the words hoarse and weak. “You’ve got it - ngh - wrong! I’m - y-yeah, I’m Mark, but I’m n-not that Mark! I–”

“Oh, quit with your pitiful lies,” Dark sneered. “Celine is already angry enough with you as it is.”

“No, listen! I made up that version of Mark the same way I created you and Wilford and Abe – I’m just a writer, okay?!”

“Give up, Mark. Nobody can hear you. Let’s see how long you last before you begin pleading for forgiveness. I have all night…”

Hold on, Jack. I’m coming. Hold on–

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Jack shuddered and shot to his feet, almost tripping over the coffee table in his haste to get away from Anti, who cackled in amusement from where he’d appeared directly over Jack’s shoulder. Jack rounded on the glitch and aimed his NERF gun at the glitch’s chest, not even caring that it was basically harmless.

“What did you do?!” he demanded, his concern for his friend overtaking his fear for his own life. “Is Dark gonna kill him?”

“D̙o͕n͑’̚t b͐e͟ s͋i̧lly!” Anti smirked and rolled his eyes, playing with his knife out of sheer boredom, tossing it between his hands and flipping it in the air. It was clear he was skilled with his weapon on choice, throwing it around with ease like one would a half-filled water bottle. “O᷄l’ D̜a̩rki͈e̚ do̶ẹs̨n̈́’ť ju͊st̽ ķill̔ p̠eo᷈p̰l͌e̞. O᷀r͋ hē w͈on̎’̞t k̇i͏ll̫ Ma̻r᷊kipl̮i̧er͕, an̋y̑w̩a͕y̒.”

The knife soared a good foot or two in the air before tumbling downward, making Jack tense even as he watched Anti catch it cleanly by the handle.

“Fa͐r a͓š I̩ c̠a᷊n̅ t͂ell͚ he̟’̤s̄ p͞r̃et᷇ty̚ p̝i᷅s̱s͚e͔d͐ a̤t᷆ ṱh͔e̓ g̹uy̗. Be̘en̒ t͑oy̕īn͗’͈ w̶it’ hi̛m᷆ f̦o͐r̬ m̽o᷆nt̾h̟s̞,̈ o̊ř so̊ h͍i᷉s̝ r̓oboͅt́ s̽a᷁ẏs͍.”

Robot? Jack’s brow furrowed in confusion. Dark had robots now?

“N̛a̡h᷾, Da͖r̓k̺’s͗ n̠o͊t̻ g̦onnå k̬i͗l͙ḽ Mar̃k̝. P͑ŕe̽t̩ṯyͅ s̒u̕r̾e ḣe᷇’d̈ r̯a̱the̗r dr̹i͖v̓ę h͂i͔m̃ t̰o̐ i͢n᷀s̷a͛nityͅ ḅefo᷾r̞e͓ tͅh͙a̓t ĥap̆p̝e̾ns.”

Jack swallowed thickly. Drive him to insanity? Could Dark so that? He was brought back to the conversation he and Mark had had almost a week ago, in the cafe. The first morning Mark had shown up.

“Dark’s more subtle,” Mark had said. “He works behind the scenes. He doesn’t deal with face-to-face conflict as much. He mostly sticks to the shadows. I mean, I gave him his backstory, I should know this…honestly, it makes me wonder if ‘Who Killed Markiplier’ wasn’t a horrible, horrible idea.”

Mark had been worried, beyond worried, about the concept of Dark actually making his move. Jack had noticed it that day but hadn’t bothered to ask about it. He was beginning to think that, perhaps, he should have pushed a little more.

“Bu̼t y̾o̲u̱ h᷁aͅve̕n̰’t̰ goṯ th᷁a͗t͓ to w᷁o͢r͊ry̽ ab̻o̱u̺t̍, Ja͖cͅka᷁b͐o̱y!” Anti was grinning again, and Jack would swear that his doppleganger’s teeth were sharp, pointed. Deadly. “A͟ft̸ëṙ t᷁o᷁n̎ig̙h̸t, you̅ w᷄o̓nͅ’̥t͂ b͐e̡ w̢OR̵r̈Yi͇N̞g a᷊BoUt a᷅N̡ÿ́T͒h̛i͙N᷇g͋.”

Anti’s distorted shadow grew around him, engulfing his side of the room in a glitching, pulsating, corrupted darkness, and from its depths shot out a dozen or so venom-green cords of light. At Anti’s command, they darted forward and curled tightly around Jack’s wrists, his ankles, his knees and elbows, his chest - his throat. Not tight enough to strangle, but with his bruises still healing, it was more than tight enough to hurt.

Jack gasped sharply and gritted his teeth, snarling and tugging against the green strings, fighting for his freedom. He had to get out. He had to save Sam, had to help Mark. But there was something...odd about the strings. With each tug against his restraints, Jack felt a little more of the fight leaving him, his will to rebel slowly draining away. His head was pounding, his throat was sore, and his shoulder was throbbing with pain...so...so wouldn’t it…

...wouldn’t it be easier to just give in?

The NERF gun fell from his hands, tumbling to the floor with a clatter of plastic and a muffled thump against the carpet.

“No͊w be̺ a̦ go͟õd̏ li᷅t̏t᷁l͋e᷊ pup̝p͟ét, an̂d̯ ğo᷊ t̥õ s͕le̗e̥ṗ.”

Yeah...yeah, sleep sounded so wonderful right now. Jack slowly let his eyes drifted shut.

Click.

“You let ‘im go right this fucking second, or I blow your fuckin’ brains out, bro.”

[A/N] - Woot! It's done! ^^ And ending on a cliffhanger too? Shocking! :0c

This chapter actually took a lot longer to finish than I originally intended. For some reason I was really struggling to get going on it, but once I started into the ambush, it really started rolling. Believe it or not, this chapter is about twice the length of all the others. While most other chapters finish off at around ten pages in Google Docs, this one? This one hit a solid twenty. Absolute insanity.

Anyway! Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed it, and comments and critiques are always appreciated! Ta!

Also find the latest chapters of this story on [Archive Of Our Own]

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[Chapter List]

#SamLives #Sam Lives #Jacksepticeye #Sam Septiceye #JSE FanFic #JSE FanFiction #Jacksepticeye FanFic #Jacksepticeye FanFiction #Sam #Antisepticeye #Darkiplier #Markiplier

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bastardnev · 6 years

Text

That Guy Next Door

im finally fuckin posting this dad au fic im losing it, i meant to post this earlier but tumblr kept glitching so!!! here it is!!

anyways as i’ve said a few times already, this fic will be updating on a weekly basis, which means that there’s gonna be one new chapter every friday until all of them have been uploaded. i hope you all enjoy this fic as much as i enjoyed writing it!!

link to ao3

tagging: @tylerblacks @joonhobi @rivela @aliciasfox @sailor-slam-dunk @kidvoodoo @smolsammich @simulated-heat @douglas-leon-michael (lemme kno if you wanna be added to my tag list!!)

Chapters: 1/16 Fandom: World Wrestling Entertainment, Professional Wrestling Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Mustafa Ali/Pac | Adrian Neville, Other Relationship Tags to Be Added Characters: Mustafa Ali, Pac | Adrian Neville, Wade Barrett, Original Child Character(s), Other Character Tags to Be Added Additional Tags: Rating will go up, wink wonk, Parenthood, Single Parents, Post-Divorce, Alternate Universe - Parents, god for a sec i didn't think there was a parent au tag on here and i was gonna be so confused, First Meetings, Other Additional Tags to Be Added Summary:

"yo" "do me a favor when you get home" "i can see there’s someone new moving in next door" "introduce all of us to him plz n thx"

Single parent Neville was convinced that he would never find love again following his divorce. Little did he realize just how much these four texts from Wade would change his life.

The more that time passed, the more it seemed like Neville was never going to be able to escape this stupid little office.

He was never going to get away from his desk. From his computer. From his phone that never seemed to want to stop ringing for thirty goddamn seconds. From the sounds of his co-workers typing away on their own keyboards. From his boss who almost always seemed to have some new, pointless assignment for him to complete whenever he passed by his cubicle. Such were the woes of working for such a big company…

He told himself that this job was only temporary. Every day he would remind himself that he was only going to be there until he was back on his feet following his divorce. As difficult as this was, it wasn’t going to last forever.

But then a time where he was financially secure enough to start looking for a different job arose, and Neville didn’t jump on the opportunity to leave. He had wanted to stick around for awhile longer to make sure he had completed everything, so that the poor bastard who took this secretary -- no, administrative assistant -- position after him wouldn’t be swamped with missed deadlines and unfinished projects. He didn’t mind staying for a few more days.

Those days turned to weeks. Those weeks turned to months. Those months turned to years.

It had been almost three fucking years since he had the chance to quit, and yet there Neville was, still typing out emails and arranging appointments for higher-ups who couldn’t give any less of a shit about him if they tried.

Sometimes he would stop while in the middle of working, staring intently at his mouse cursor, debating just walking out and leaving this hell behind and never looking back. No one appreciated him. It would make more sense to go elsewhere, wouldn’t it? Where he wouldn’t have to work unnecessarily long hours just to earn a decent pay? Where a boss would actually seem grateful for the work that he puts in?

It was as he would have these thoughts, however, that he would catch sight of the pictures resting next to his computer monitor -- those of two little girls, smiling at the camera and looking so full of life.

His little girls.

The older one was Jennifer, though she was only ever called that when she was in serious trouble (which wasn’t often, now that Neville thought about it) -- otherwise, she was simply known as Jen. She was definitely more like her mother, from having the same light brown hair to the same headstrong personality. Though she was only nine, she was incredibly independent -- almost too independent, however, as she was often too stubborn to ask for help when she was in tough situations.

Then there was Daisy -- ‘Daddy’s favorite,’ as she claimed whenever Neville would do something nice for her (even if he had also done the same thing for Jen). She was six, and even at such a young age she was already showing signs of being just like her father. That is to say, she was becoming a bit of a smartass. True to the little sibling stereotype, she essentially lived to spite Jen, always making sure to say whatever it was she least wanted to hear just so that she could appreciate her over-the-top reactions.

These two lovely children were depending on him. Neville couldn’t quit and risk losing out on money when he knows that they’re counting on him to take care of them.

With that thought in mind, he continued typing.

If he was lucky, then Neville’s drive from the office back to his home was relatively short, the traffic scarce despite it technically being rush hour.

Unfortunately, that day was not his lucky day.

Despite never actually having met the driver of the minivan that he was stuck behind, Neville felt like he was deeply familiar with their personal life, considering the amount of bullshit on the back of it. There was a stick figure family decal on the back window -- a father, a mother, two little boys, and one little girl. Down on the bumper there were multiple stickers proudly announcing to the world that there were two honors students in the family. What about the third kid? Neville found himself thinking, fingers tapping impatiently on the steering wheel. Are they not good enough for a sticker?

His phone vibrated in the cup holder next to him, and he glanced down at it for a moment before focusing back on the road, pulling up a little once the traffic started to move. He heard the phone vibrate a second time. A third time. By the time the fourth vibration occurred, Neville looked back down at the device and took it in his hands, wondering just what in the hell was so urgent that it required sending that many messages.

Then again, considering that the only person who ever texted him nowadays was Wade, there was no way it was actually anything of substance.

Wade “Freeloader” Barrett: yo

Wade “Freeloader” Barrett: do me a favor when you get home

Wade “Freeloader” Barrett: i can see there’s someone new moving in next door

Wade “Freeloader” Barrett: introduce all of us to him plz n thx

Typical. Wade was once again trying to get Neville to do something for him. It seemed like all that Wade had done since moving into the downstairs apartment in Neville’s house was try to butter him up for something. That man truly has not changed since college…

Though Neville ribbed Wade for his tactics, even going as far as to jokingly refer to him as a freeloader in his phone, the truth was that he didn't have any negative feelings towards him at all. In fact, he was actually incredibly grateful for him. Wade had been employed when he moved into Neville’s home after his divorce, but he’d been laid off not too long after, and he’d had no success finding a job ever since. It seemed like every time things were looking up for him and he might have found something other than the occasional odd job, the position was always given to someone else, and as such he was never able to pay his share of that month’s rent.

He was always willing to babysit whenever Neville needed him to, however -- which was fairly often, seeing as his job sometimes required that he stay late at the office. Had it not been for him, Neville would have had to worry about paying a sitter on top of all of the bills and everything else. Difficult as things may be, he was glad to have a close friend like Wade.

Someone actually bought that house, though? Neville thought. It’s been on the market for ages. He could only vaguely remember the small family that used to live there before they abruptly moved because of the father’s job. Though the last thing that Neville wanted to do was give Wade what he wanted, he had to admit that he was just as curious as he was about this new neighbor…

Me: And why should I do that? Can’t you go over there yourself?

Wade “Freeloader” Barrett: your texting while you’re supposed to be driving??

Wade “Freeloader” Barrett: dangerous

Wade “Freeloader” Barrett: tsk tsk

Me: *you’re

Wade “Freeloader” Barrett: SHUT UP

Me: Also I’m in traffic, asshole. Now tell me why you can’t do it yourself?

Wade “Freeloader” Barrett: because i just woke up from a nap and have a killer headache and am in no mood to actually socialize

Me: What makes you think I’M in the mood to socialize? I just had a long day at work.

Wade “Freeloader” Barrett: because you’re the cuter one between the two of us and it would be better if he saw your pretty face instead of mine

Wade “Freeloader” Barrett: you could win over anyone with those eyes of yours

It was at that moment that Neville placed his phone back down in the cup holder -- partially because the traffic was beginning to move and he needed to start driving again, though mainly because he’d read enough. Wade always tried to compliment him whenever he was too lazy to do something for himself, and Neville was ashamed to admit that this strategy worked more often than not.

This time was going to be different, however. After a long day of typing away at his desk and going straight into bumper-to-bumper traffic, it was going to take a lot more than some sweet talking to get him to introduce himself to a total stranger.

Neville finally pulled into his driveway about fifteen minutes later, turning the car off and leaning back against the seat with a sigh. Somewhere along the way it had started raining, the droplets of rain tapping rhythmically against the windshield. He loved the rain -- that is, when he didn’t actually have to go walking through it. It was a short walk from the car to the front door. Even so, he was not looking forward to getting wet…

As he gathered his bearings, he took a quick look out of the passenger side window, and he noticed that there was a light on inside of the house next door, and there was an unfamiliar car parked in the driveway. So Wade was telling the truth when he said that there was a new neighbor. Wonder what their story is.

The neighborhood that Neville lived in wasn’t bad by any means, but he didn’t think that it was an area that anybody would want to willingly move into. Most of the residents tended to keep to themselves, the extent of their interactions with one another being a quick ‘hello’ and nothing more. Wouldn’t someone looking for a place to start their new life look for someplace more interesting? Whoever this new person was must have had no other options.

...Then again, it wasn’t like Neville really cared about what this new person thought. He had more important things to worry about then whatever was going on in their mind.

Neville resigned himself to his damp fate and exited the car, making sure to lock it before trekking through the rain and up the front stops until he reached the door. Despite it being closed, he could hear what sounded like a commotion inside -- just what he needed after the day he’d had. What are they fighting over now ? He clicked his tongue and opened the door, bracing himself for whatever the latest controversy was.

“Jen, you said yourself that you didn’t care if she ate your leftovers or not.” The first voice that Neville heard was that of Wade, who was clearly trying to mediate an argument between the two girls, standing in front of Jen while Daisy hid behind his back.

“I said I didn’t want them! I never said she could have them!” Jen had her arms crossed.

“I never ate them, though!” Daisy peeked out from behind Wade, clutching his shirt, dark brown curls falling over her face. “I swear! Why would I want something that you touched?”

“Uh… Hello?” Neville decided to speak up, prompting the three of them to look over in his direction.

“Daddy!!” Daisy let go of Wade and went charging towards him, now opting to hide behind him instead (and prompting a “What, am I not a good enough shield for you?” from Wade). “Jen’s bullying me again!”

“I am not!” Jen insisted. “She’s the one that did something wrong! She ate my food!”

Of all the ridiculous arguments that these two could have had, they had to have one over chicken tenders? Were fights over toys going out of style? “Okay, listen,” Neville started. “Jen, you did say that you didn’t mind if someone else ate them. And Daisy, you shouldn’t insinuate that anything your sister touches is dirty.”

Daisy blinked at him. Neville couldn’t imagine why she looked so confused, seeing as he made a perfectly good point.

“Nev,” Wade said. “She’s six. I don’t think she knows what ‘insinuate’ means.”

“Right… Okay, how about this -- don’t say that anything she touches is dirty. There, is that better?”

Daisy nodded this time. Neville knew her too well, though. It may appear as if she understood, but in reality she was plotting her next move. Chances are she had plenty more insults ready to unleash the moment that Neville’s back was turned.

Jen made a disgusted sound and stormed into the hallway, bounding up the stairs towards her room. Now that her enemy had disappeared, Daisy deemed it safe enough to emerge from hiding, heading towards the kitchen. Neville pushed his glasses up his nose as he watched her go. “How did that argument even start, anyway?” He asked.

“Hell if I know.” Wade shrugged. “I was minding my own business when Daisy came running in here claiming that Jen was going to kill her. Again.”

“Did she even eat the leftovers?”

“No, she didn’t.”

“Then who…” He squinted at Wade. “ You ate them, didn’t you?”

“...Maybe…”

“Of course you did.” Neville sat down on the couch, rubbing at his temples.

“What, did you expect me to speak up? Angry Jen isn’t fun to deal with. The last thing I wanted was to be on the receiving end of her wrath. She clearly got that gene from you.”

“Ha ha, very funny.”

Wade took a seat next to him. “Enough about that, though. What happened with the new guy next door?”

“I didn’t talk to him.”

“What?” He looked disappointed. “Not even after I asked you so nicely?”

“Trying to get me to do something for you by buttering me up isn’t always going to work, Wade. I told you that I had a long day today and I wasn’t up for introductions. I’ll get around to it when I’m not exhausted.”

Wade huffed, propping his feet up on the coffee table (and having them shoved off by Neville a few seconds later). “All I’m trying to do is help you get back out there…”

Neville looked at him, eyes narrow. “Excuse me?”

“Oh, did I say that out loud? Oops.” Wade was acting as if that were an accident, but it didn’t take a genius to figure out that he’d clearly meant for Neville to hear him.

“What do you mean that you’re trying to help me ‘get back out there’?”

“Well, y’know…” Wade began to play with his nails, avoiding Neville’s gaze. “I thought you and the cute new guy next door might want to chat for awhile, maybe hang out sometime, that’s all.”

“You-- Wait, you actually want me to date this guy? This guy who I’ve never even met? Are you kidding me?” Neville had learned so much about Wade in the years that they’d known each other, but never once had he shown any interest in trying to play matchmaker. “Why do you want this so badly?”

“I just thought it would be nice! I know you’ve been lonely lately--”

“And just how would you know that?”

“Nev, I’ve been your friend since college. I’ve been living with you ever since you and Marina split. The last few years have been rough for you romance-wise, and it’s obvious that it’s taken a toll on you.”

Neville swallowed at the mention of his wife’s name. “How do you know ?” He repeated, growing a little impatient.

“I feel like I hardly ever see you smile anymore,” Wade continued. “It’s not that you never smile, it’s just… genuinely happy smiles are pretty rare for you these days. I thought that maybe finding you a nice guy to hang out with would help lift your spirits a bit -- and who knows, something great could come out of this. You should give him a chance.”

Neville knew that he was probably being rude, but he still rolled his eyes, shaking his head and once again pushing his glasses up his nose. He knew that Wade didn’t mean any harm. He was one of the few truly good people that Neville knew, and he would never do anything to hurt him.

This, on the other hand, while it didn’t hurt him by any means, was on a whole different level. “Wade, listen… I understand that you’re just trying to help,” Neville started. “I appreciate that you’re looking out for me. But I know I’ve told you before that I’m not interested in finding a partner at the moment. I have a family to support, and I don’t have time to be fooling around with romance right now.”

“Okay…” Wade’s shoulders drooped. “Sorry if it seemed like I was forcing you into something that you didn’t want.”

“No need to apologize.” Neville stood up from the couch, stretching. “I gotta go get changed. These clothes are so damn uncomfortable.”

“It’s times like these where I’m almost glad I don’t work,” Wade commented, watching Neville as he made to leave the room. “Otherwise I’d have to wear stuff like that .”

“I envy you, I won’t lie.”

Neville arrived at the top of the steps and started to make his way down the hallway. He briefly stopped in front of the door to the girls’ room, knowing that Jen was most likely still stewing inside. He knew that she would get over it eventually, but it still bothered him knowing that she was angry with the wrong person. Maybe once she calms down we can tell her… Though Wade will probably be scared shitless while we do it.

He continued down the hall and made it to his own room, taking off his jacket and tossing it onto the bed. He was about to start undoing the buttons on his shirt when he noticed that the window was open, and he let out a little annoyed noise. Great, now the floor is wet…

It was when he went over to close it that he once again caught sight of the house next door -- in particular, his eye was drawn to the window. He could see that there was someone moving around inside, but he was only able to see his back. There he is, the man of my dreams… or so I’ve been told.

Neville wasn’t in the mood to be accused of being a creeper, so he quickly shut the window and closed the blinds, resuming his undressing. Whoever the hell this new guy was, he wasn’t interested in watching what he assumed were his dinner preparations (nor was he willing to strip right where he could see it).

For all the complaints that Neville had about his job, there was one thing about it that he did like -- the fact that he was able to work from home on Fridays.

He was set up at the kitchen table, lazily scrolling through the emails that were gradually piling up in his inbox. Most of them didn’t even concern him -- in the beginning they were about figuring out what time would work best for everyone for the next meeting, now most of them were people debating which day of the week would be better between Monday and Tuesday. I’m stuck in that office anyway regardless of the day, so what does it even matter? Neville thought to himself, taking a sip from his coffee mug as he went to work deleting some of the messages.

“What a sight to behold.” Neville looked up from the screen and found that Wade had entered the room. “You’re still sitting here working and drinking from that ‘World’s Okayest Dad’ mug. Don’t you think you should give yourself a break?”

“I already took my break earlier,” Neville replied just as he heard another chime ring out from his laptop -- the meeting would officially be on Monday, despite numerous complaints. Incoming shitstorm.

“Take another one. What’s stopping you? It’s not like anyone can tell that you’re not working.”

“They’ll tell when I’m not responding to any of their emails.”

“So if you don’t respond immediately after they send it to you then they’ll know that you’re slacking off? Sounds rough. Glad I’m not working there.”

“You’re not working, period .”

“Exactly, and who would want to with those regulations?” Wade went to the fridge and dug around inside until he came back with a bottle of water, unscrewing the cap and taking a sip. “Hey, where are the girls? I haven’t seen them all afternoon.”

“Outside in the yard.” Neville nodded his head in the direction of the back door. “I’m surprised they’ve been playing for so long without getting into a fight.” Right as Neville finished saying that, he heard a thud and the unmistakable sound of Daisy yelling “Ow!” “Ah, I see I spoke too soon.”

A few moments later, both girls stumbled into the kitchen through the back door. “Daddy, Daisy threw the ball over the fence again,” Jen complained, elbowing her sister in the side.

“Ow-- It wasn’t my fault! She was the one who threw it.”

“You said you were ready for me to throw it!”

“No I didn’t!”

“Yes you did! Daddy, didn’t you hear her say she was ready? She’s lying again--”

“Alright, alright, that’s enough,” Neville interrupted her before she could say anything more, and he pushed back his chair. “You two head back outside and wait in the yard. I’ll go get the ball for you.”

Jen and Daisy looked at each other before they both walked back outside, the two of them getting into a brief scuffle in the doorway since they couldn’t decide which of the two of them got to go through first (Jen ultimately won by reminding Daisy of who the older sibling was). Neville pinched the bridge of his nose once they were gone, letting out a sigh. “What am I going to do with them…”

“Well, you can start by getting their ball,” Wade said.

Neville made a little frustrated noise and stood up, though it was as he was about to leave that he noticed the cocky smirk on Wade’s face. “What’s up with you?”

“Nev, how did you get the ball the last time they threw it over the fence?” he asked, leaning back against the counter.

“Uh… I went into the yard and got it?”

“You realize you can’t do that anymore, right? Since there’s now someone living there. That’s trespassing.”

“What’s your point?”

“My point is that you’re going to have to get the new neighbor’s permission to go back there and get it. You two are finally going to meet.”

“Oh God, are you still on this?” Neville huffed. “I told you that I’m not interested in being in a relationship right now. Let it go .”

“I never said you had to date him. Just that you’re gonna be meeting for the first time.”

“Maybe so, but I know you’re thinking it.” He waggled his finger at him. “And let me tell you this: I’m going to go next door, ask for the ball back, and then come right back here. No bullshit, no stopping inside for coffee or whatever, no nothing . You got that?”

“Whatever you say, mate.” Wade still didn’t look entirely convinced, but he didn’t press the issue any further and left the kitchen, leaving Neville all by himself.

What a pain in the ass… Neville shook his head as he watched Wade retreat downstairs. He waited until he was gone before exiting into the hallway and walking towards the front door.

The moment that the early-August heat hit his face, Neville immediately regretting going outside. God, how have those kids been playing out here for all this time? He despised the thought of meeting his new neighbor while drenched in sweat, so he decided to stop wasting time and briskly started the trek over to the house next door.

“It won’t take him much longer, calm down!” Neville could hear the faint sound of Jen reprimanding her sister from his own yard.

“We’ve been waiting foreverrrrr…” Naturally, the next voice he heard was that of Daisy.

Five minutes. It’s been five minutes since they asked. At most.

Neville looked up at the house that was now in front of him, and he marched up to the door with authority, determined not to let Wade’s nonsense get in the way of what he came here to do. He didn’t come here to flirt or do anything of that nature -- he was not going to let the wannabe matchmaker that lived in his basement cloud his judgement.

He rang the doorbell and took a step back, crossing his arms and waiting for some sort of response. He could still hear the sounds of Daisy and Jen bickering from the yard. He debated taking out his phone and asking Wade to keep an eye on them, but it was right as he reached for his pocket that the door opened.

“Hi, I’m—” Neville stopped himself once he got a good look at the man now standing in the doorway, his mouth hanging open slightly.

“Um… How can I help you?” The man asked, brown eyes narrowed in confusion, like he couldn’t figure out why this stranger was gaping at him on his doorstep. It was those same eyes that Neville found himself suddenly lost in, momentarily forgetting just why the hell he was there in the first place. That’s a good question -- how can you help me?

Neville cleared his throat, shaking his head and snapping himself out of his trance. “Excuse me, I’m sorry to bother you, but my kids accidentally threw their ball over your fence. I was wondering if we could get it back.”

“Oh, that’s what that was?” He smiled. “I heard yelling coming from next door and was wondering what had happened.”

“Ah, well, you know how little girls can be sometimes…”

“Trust me, I do. I work with them. I can toss the ball back over for ‘em.”

“Thank you.” Neville returned his smile. “Again, sorry to trouble you. I know you’re still busy unpacking.” Neville could see the moving boxes that were sitting in the hallway. “Don’t mean to interrupt.”

“Don’t worry about it, it’s not a problem at all. Hey, what’s your name, by the way? I’m Mustafa.”

“Mustafa…” Neville repeated. It was a nice name. “I’m Adrian.”

“It’s very nice to meet you, Adrian.” There was that infectious smile again. Neville found himself quite liking how his name sounded coming from his mouth -- and he normally hated his first name. “You’re the first person around here that I’ve actually spoken to, you know that?”

“That doesn’t shock me.” He frowned. “The people around here aren’t exactly the nicest. They don’t really do things like greeting new neighbors.”

“That’s a shame… But at least I have one nice neighbor in you . That makes up for it.” Mustafa shot him a wink. “I should probably go get the ball now -- I’ll catch you later, okay?”

“Okay! I’ll, uh… see you around.”

With that, Mustafa shut the door, and Neville let out a breath that he didn’t even realize that he was holding. Finally, it was over . He had done what needed to be done, and now he could go back home and rub it in Wade’s face.

I didn’t linger at all. Neville thought with a sense of triumph as he went down to the sidewalk. Wade was so sure that I was going to fall head over heels for him within thirty seconds of knowing him. Not even close.

…Still, Neville thought it was a bit strange how he had acted when Mustafa first opened the door. Everything about their conversation was normal with the exception of the beginning. Neville had been completely entranced by him, especially those eyes … What was that all about?

Neville’s moment of contemplation didn’t last very long, as he was interrupted by the gleeful sounds of his daughters, whose ball had just been returned to them. He was overthinking things, as usual. He only felt this way because Wade planted the seeds in his mind.

This was nothing to dwell on.

#mustafa ali #neville #adrian neville #wwe fanfiction #mustafa x neville #jess.txt #i sincerely apologize if you're on mobile rn and can't see the read more because this is a Long Chapter #dad au

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thesoundofnat · 6 years

Text

Three Times Peter Helped Tony

Tony, Peter

Summary: The title says it all. Ranges from bigger to smaller ways Peter helps.

A/N: I honestly wouldn’t consider this my best work, but I still kinda like it, so I’m deciding to post it anyway lmao. Hope you like it!

Also if this looks weird on your dash it’s because tumblr hates me is glitching.

[Read it on AO3]

Words: 2 463

Tony was sad. He hadn’t told Peter that, of course, but Peter wasn’t stupid and knew what those brief etched on smiles and hollow eyes meant. Tony wasn’t okay. Probably hadn’t been for a while now, but this seemed more current. The wound seemed more fresh.

He knew it had something to do with the airport fight and everything that had come after that. He had seen Tony try so hard to fix everything while simultaneously making sure Peter wasn’t taking on too many battles he couldn’t handle. It stung a little to know he was a part of Tony’s stress, but if there was one thing he’d learnt about the man was that he needed the distractions more than he needed air in his lungs, lest he wanted the pain to swallow him whole.

Peter had been happy to be a distraction, at first. It was no secret that he enjoyed the older man’s company, and god knew he had a lot to learn from him. But his finals crept closer, and smaller bad guys robbing stores never stopped, and he had to handle his crush moving away before he could even properly have his chance with her, and things became slightly too much for his sixteen year old self to handle. So he had to make a choice. Avengers stuff or life stuff. He knew what Mr Stark wanted him to pick.

Now that they were reunited after several weeks of no contact - not even from Peter’s side - he could see those bags under his eyes and the lines on his face more clearly. Tony wasn’t young anymore, and all the pressure he’d been put on was getting to him. Maybe Peter had just caught him at the wrong time, but it was more obvious than ever.

“What?”

Tony was narrowing his eyes at him, and Peter realized that he’d been staring slightly too intently at him from across the table.

Peter shook his head. “Nothing! I was just wondering if maybe I should start drinking coffee.”

Tony hummed, hands gripping his cup just like Peter was gripping his own cup of tea. “Nah. Too young. I’d say wait until college. You’ll need it more then.”

“I reckon you know best.”

Tony’s lips quirked upward. “Maybe not always, but in this case I’m pretty sure I do.”

It was a strangely… normal conversation. Each time they saw each other it was always because Peter was panicking over something or Tony needed to show him new tech. That he’d been invited over for tea had been a greater shock than Tony probably realized.

“How’s school? You acing your classes?”

“Of course.”

“Social life?”

“Other than the occasional meeting with academic decathlon team I mostly just see Ned.”

“Good. About the team, I mean. It’s good that you’re keeping it up.” Tony hesitated briefly before saying, “And how’s your aunt handling this whole - thing.”

Peter squirmed in his seat. “She was very angry with me at first. And with you.”

“I figured. Did my talk with her help at all?”

“Oh, definitely. It’s taken her a while, but she’s more calm about it now as long as I tell her where I go each time.” Peter barked out a laugh. “It’s kind of annoying.”

Tony grinned. “That’s guardians to you. You’re lucky, you know.”

“I know.”

They sipped on their drinks in silence for a moment. A ray of sun had found its way between the buildings outside and illuminated the kitchen table, and Peter found himself watching it just to keep himself from watching Tony. He knew he wouldn’t appreciate being observed.

“How are you?” Peter blurted out before he could stop himself. “And Ms Potts and Mr Rhodes?”

Tony seemed a bit amused. “We’re all good, kid. Rhodey can almost walk entirely on his own now.”

Peter nodded. “So you’re all… fine?”

Tony blinked. “Relatively. Should we not be?”

“Yes! I mean, I hope you are?”

“This-” Tony shook his head. “I don’t say this often, but I’m confused.”

“Oh, I didn’t mean to- I mean-”

“Kid. Just say whatever you want to say. I promise I won’t get mad or whatever.”

Peter exhaled slowly, biding his time. “It’s just… you look a little sad, s’all. I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

Tony’s eyebrows met his hairline. “Oh. Well, uh-” He scratched the back of his head. “I guess lying and saying I’m fine will get me nowhere.”

“You don’t have to say anything, Mr Stark. I just wanted to check.”

“No, no, it’s- it’s fine, I-” Tony shook his head. “Maybe I need it.”

Peter never would’ve thought they’d be in this position, where Tony Stark of all people attempted to put his emotions into words in order to share them with him. It was usually the other way around.

“The thing is,” Tony started, pushing his cup from hand to hand on the table. “I care more than people probably think, and sometimes it gets hard to deal with everything. Especially when people so very obviously didn’t care back. At least not to the same extent.”

That was probably the most Tony would be willing to tell him, but Peter appreciated it anyway. “Do you wanna know what I think?”

“I’m sure you’ll tell me.”

“None of them deserved you.”

Tony didn’t reply, but Peter could see a slight shift in his posture. A brightness to his eyes.

Peter made it his goal to always make sure Mr Stark remembered how important he actually was after that.

Peter wasn’t sure how or even why, but when he opened his eyes he found himself in Mr Stark’s living room, and the light was way too natural for it to still be dark outside.

“What happened?” he asked FRIDAY automatically, but got an entirely different voice in return.

“You passed out. As in like, fell asleep. You weren’t knocked out or anything.”

Peter sat up a bit in order to look at Tony who was sitting in the armchair across the room from him, his attention captured by the pad in his lap. “Have you- have you just been sitting there all night?”

“Of course not. I went to my lab. Had a few hours of sleep. Went back to the lab. You dozed for over ten hours. Seriously, Parker, when was the last time you slept through the night?”

“Too long ago,” Peter muttered. “Does Aunt May-”

“All informed.”

“Oh. Good. Thank you.”

Tony snorted and finally looked up at him. “No problem. I was mostly covering my own ass.”

Peter grinned. “Right, because you don’t care about either me or her at all.”

“All right, don’t get cocky. Geez, you’ve been hanging around me for too long.” He placed the pad on the coffee table. “If you want breakfast you know where everything is.”

Peter nodded and sat up properly. He felt more awake than he had in weeks, miraculously. “How’d you sleep? Those hours you did sleep, I mean.”

Tony hummed. “I slept all right. It could’ve been better.” That Tony was willingly admitting that was a huge step. “But it was enough to function today. I’ve got so many meetings this afternoon that I’m sorta considering going into hiding.” He waved his hand around. “Never become an adult, you hear me.”

“I’m afraid it’s a little too late for that,” Peter said, the idea that he would have to apply for colleges in less than a year ever so present in the back of his mind. “You should eat too. And probably get some more coffee.”

“You sound like Pepper.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

“Mmm not really.”

“Then I’ll take the compliment.”

Tony laughed. “Definitely getting cocky. I can’t say I hate it, but you better be careful.”

Peter had to admit that the months he’d spent around the older man had made him much more comfortable around him and his closest friends, and sometimes he had to remind himself that snark could seem disrespectful. Fortunately Tony was fluent in snark and didn’t seem to mind.

Peter took a quick trip to the bathroom and tried in vain to get his hair to cooperate, and then met Tony in the kitchen where a glass of orange juice was waiting for him on the table. He downed it in seconds, only just then realizing how dry his throat had been. Tony watched him over his coffee in amusement.

“I have to make a call,” he said, already halfway out of the room with his cup in hand. “Make yourself at home and all that jazz.”

Peter didn’t need to be told twice.

***

“God, if a stupid phone call takes this long I cannot imagine how long the actual meetings will last-” Tony stopped in his tracks, his cup empty and his hair in disarray. “What’s this?”

Peter looked up from where he’d been scrolling on his phone. “Breakfast.”

“For me?”

“Of course.” He motioned to the toast across from him on the table. “It’s probably a little cold now, but-”

“No, no, I- that doesn’t matter, it’s-” Tony cut himself off with a shake of his head. “The only people who’ve ever made me breakfast are Pepper and Rhodey.”

Peter’s eyes widened. “Oh my god, sorry, was it insensitive? You don’t have to eat it.”

Tony grinned then. Hugely and genuinely. “Not insensitive at all.” He wouldn’t look directly on Peter, but Peter knew him well enough at this point to know it wasn’t a bad thing. “Thanks, kid,” he said as he sat. “I have to leave in like ten minutes, so I was worried I wouldn’t even have time to eat. God knows I would forget all about food once in those meetings, so this-” He grabbed his toast. “-is gold.”

Peter beamed all the way home.

How Peter ended up at a movie night at Tony’s with Pepper, Rhodey and Happy was beyond him, but he was happily (and slightly awkwardly) sitting between Tony and the armrest while they tried to decide on a movie. Pepper, who was on Tony’s other side, was pointing at one of the movies on the screen, but Tony kept scrolling.

“Already seen it,” he said, glancing at her. “But you can totally have more than one choice.”

“If we’re gonna find a movie that none of us have seen it will be a miracle,” she replied matter-of-factly. “How about that one?”

“Oohh, I’ve been meaning to see it for ages,” Rhodey said from the other couch.

Happy shook his head beside him. “Not that one.”

“Why not?”

“Looks bad.”

“I agree,” Tony said and kept scrolling.

“You know what, give me the remote.” Rhodey held out his hand, but Tony barely acknowledged him.

“My house, my rules.”

“Pepper, get him to give me the remote.”

“Don’t get me involved in this.”

“You wanted to watch the movie too.”

“We can negotiate like adults.”

“That one!” Happy piped up, pointing. “I vote that one.”

Tony hummed. “It looks all right, actually.”

“Oh, you’re kidding!” Rhodey was more passionate over this than Peter would’ve expected, but he recognized the thrill that came with going against your best friend over small things. “Peter, get him to give me the remote.”

Peter really hadn’t been expecting to get dragged into this. “What, me?”

“Yes! He listens to you.”

“No, he doesn’t,” Peter blurted out, and Tony snorted.

“Cut yourself some slack, kid,” Rhodey said, voice softer.

“Actually,” Tony said, turning to Peter with a grin so big it almost scared him. “It’s a tie between two movies, but we’re an odd number. Peter’s vote can decide.”

“Do you think I’m suicidal?” Peter asked with a slight panic.

Happy, of all people, burst into laughter. “Oh, okay, you’re funny, I’ll give you that.”

Tony poked his chest. “Just choose.”

“And if I don’t want to watch either of them?”

“Then we’ll never get around to watch a thing.”

Peter had honestly not been paying much attention to the options, since he was fine with whatever. “Could- could you let me read the descriptions of them both?”

They sat in silence as Peter read. They both sounded mediocre, and Peter realized he’d already seen parts of one of them with Ned. They’d only gotten half an hour in before they’d had to turn it off. Which meant-

“I think the one Mr Stark likes sounds good,” he said, and Happy surprised him once again by cheering.

Tony clapped his hands. “That’s my boy. The night is saved.”

Those words were worth the mock glare Rhodey sent his way.

And one time Tony asked him to.

Peter had been in Tony’s lab before, but he’d never been allowed to touch anything, and today was no exception. He hovered behind Tony and tried to peek at what he was doing, which he knew was probably bothering the older man, but so far he hadn’t said anything. That was one of the things that had changed as they spent more time together. Tony got more patient with him and his curiosity.

“You think you can hand me that?” Tony suddenly asked, pointing toward the end of the table.

Peter was quick to oblige. “Of course, here you go.”

“Thank you.” He peeked up briefly to smile at him, if a twitch of his lips counted as a smile. “Actually, do you think you could hold this while I tweak it?” He handed Peter a part of the Iron suit and asked him to hold it in place against the table.

“Make sure to not move it,” he said before diving in, and Peter felt like he was dreaming. He was actually here, in Tony Stark’s lab, helping Tony Stark build one of his genius creations. Ned would freak.

To be entirely honest Peter was freaking out a little himself.

“You’re doing good,” Tony said, and Peter had to hold back a laugh lest he wanted to jostle the part.

“I’m only holding it.”

“Still.” His fingers stilled, and he took a step back to observe it. “I think that’ll do. Thanks, kid.”

Peter was eager to keep helping, but he wasn’t about to test his luck. “Is it okay if I sit in here and work on homework?”

“Sure thing.”

Life felt right in there, with Tony working away and Peter sitting on the couch taking care of his own responsibilities. Occasionally he would look up and observe his mentor, and he could occasionally feel Tony looking his way, but they didn’t talk. It was nice.

Tony still seemed sad, but he seemed to be handling it, and Peter was still happy to be one of his distractions, mostly because he was now certain Tony saw him as more than just that.

#tony stark #peter parker #iron man fic #spiderman homecoming fic #tony and peter #marvel fic #mine #three times peter helped tony #nat writes

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hdawg1995 · 6 years

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My Stardew Valley started flipping out cause i was playing it for 14 hours strait and it legit did some creepy pasta stuff so heres a creepy pasta

reality: somewhere around hour 10 Kent’s sprite only loaded half way (his eyes and up) or not at all. Willy was just a shadow- even when interacting with him. at one point he phased though Haley (and it was the only time his sprite was fully visible) side note: me and my sister declared willy a ghost because the fishing in my game was such lack luster. Gunther was probably the same since i never saw him at the museum but was still able to donate. lastly Alex glitched though a already glitched haley- she was on the beach even though her schedule wouldn’t have put her there. i wasn’t able to interact with her but a part of me wonders if i went to her house (where she was suppose to be) if i would see her shadow and would be able to interact with her there, but i was too far in a “yup. totaly writing a creepy pasta about this now” mood.

The Creepy pasta:

i really don’t know what to say now other than everyone was right- a game about a fun little town in a sleepy valley being secretly evil? yeah, its true.

i was playing Stardew Valley one day with my sister- i had woken up in a sour mood and i wanted to cheer myself up. at one point she came by and hung out with me, watching me play on my farm and the normal day to day antics with the pelican town NPCs. we were laying on my bed since it was the only place comfortable enough to play on the laptop for hours on end.

i lost track of time. everything felt too real, like i was getting lost in the game. this is normal, but i knew there was something wrong when it took my sister kicking me in the head snap me out of it.

“oh my god i’m so sorry! i meant to nudge you!” she declared and it was fine, really, but when i glanced back at the screen Harvey was talking to me. i don’t even remember interacting with him- must have clicked him when i get hit in the head. it seemed normal enough; he was mentioning he was having trouble making ends meet so he’ll have to get patients from somewhere else.

i went back to playing as we chatted about nothing when something struck me.

“hey...” i asked my sister as i paused the game. “Doesn’t harvey normally say he’ll find patients from the nearby towns?” she blinked a few times at me then silently checked the wiki.

there wasn’t an answer there, so we shrugged it off. wouldn’t be the first time NPCs change their dialog. Sebastian mentions that me and sam are his only friends after so many hearts.

speaking of which, i wanted to give him a present today. i had forgotten the quarts at the farm so i rounded back, heading past Sam’s house. i got lost in the game again- it was like the only thing i could hear was the game, the only thing i could feel was the cobble stone under my feet but that wasn’t right- i was in bed.

when i walked by Sam’s house Kent walked out. i smiled and talked to him only... His sprite wasn’t there in the dialog box. his text was also jumbled and didn’t make sense. the prompt to continue the conversation came up and when i clicked it the text was less garbled but Kent’s image was just his eyes. he said “I’ll watch out for you”.

i snapped out of it at that. i looked over at my sister to ask her if that was normal (it wasn’t) but she seemed so transfixed on the screen it was my turn to snap her out of it. i smacked her on the head and she flinched but seemed alright.

“sorry, i meant to nudge you.” i joked, but she didn’t seem to hear me. “I thought Kent came back from war?” she questioned and i tilted my head. “Umm. yeah he does, in year two...” i turned back to the screen and Kent was gone.

“You were just talking to Sam- he said his dad died?”

we both stared at each other before taking out our phones to chick the wiki. sure enough it says Kent returns in year two- alive.

we decide my games glitched and i keep playing while my sister makes a bug report. it took me far too long to realize dialog nor included in the game showing up out of no where- and for only ONE person for that matter- was anything BUT a bug. by the time i got to the farm and had gotten the quarts for Sebastian the report had been sent and my thoughts died in my throat.

a few in game days later i realize Harvey has been acting weird; hes been following Haley around. i don’t pay much attention to the doctor (Sam, Sebastian, and Shane being my favorites i tended to look out for them, not so much HAley or Harvey) but i didn’t think they shared a pattern at all.

i brushed it off and decided to head down to the beach. Alex’s cut scene triggered so i say back and watched. it seemed normal until his sprite changed to the surprised looking one.

“Did you hear a scream just now?”

>no? what scream? >.... >yeah! it sounded like Haley!

my sister swore and looked up the wiki again. con confirm: not part of the cut scene. i thought for a moment and decided that no, i didn’t hear anything (but i really hadn’t). Alex seemed worried and went to investigate. the scene ended but Ale wasn’t on the beach anymore. i was really starting to freak out and debated turning off the game. before i could exit to the desktop i got lost in the game again- the fishing mini game is the devil but i mastered it none the less. i didn’t even remember casting my rod.

it was getting late so i headed home. Harvey was standing on the bridge to the beach. i didn’t talk to him since it was mid night. i needed to get home.

when i woke up it all seemed normal. i decided to take the fish i got last night and sell them to willy. i wasnt sure how to get the fishing scene in the valley more lively like he’ll some times says so i figured if i sold the fish directly to him it would help. when i went down to the beach i saw haley but she wouldn’t talk to me. she stared out at the ocean, her dialog box just dots. her expression sad.

when i went to see willy he wasn’t there. at first i thought i was at the dock at the wrong time, but something cold pressed against my arm and i snapped up out of the game and looked at my sister- she was holding the Gatorade she had gotten earlier to my arm.

“you were ignoring me again. Sib i think somethings seriously wrong with your game”.

i agreed but i couldn’t stop playing. i explained this and she got worried, fiddling with her phone again.

i can’t stop playing. i have to keep playing.

“hey” she got my attention. “theres this stardew turmblr account -joja apologist. they have a farmer whos a demon.”

“cool.” i kept playing. i should give Sam a present. “No listen they’re making posts about their stardew game acting weird.”

i tried to turn to face her but thats all i did- face her. my eyes were locked on the screen as Kent walked by. i went to talk to him again and the same thing happened- jumbled words and no sprite and then just his eyes and the declaration that he’ll watch out for me.

“They did Harvey started attacking people so they would HAVE to go to him for meds and stuff.” she sounded worried so i hummed in reply.

then i remembered Alex’s broken cut scene.

“Haley!” i scrambled over to her house and found a cut scene waiting for me. in it Harvey was telling Emily something. my farmer walks up to them and Harvey greets me, but his portrait is distorted some- he has wide eyes and a grin that seems to reach his ears. he asks me to try and comfort Emily- she just lost her sister.

I felt sick at the thought; this was wrong. very very wrong.

<But i saw her the other day. <no... no not Haley.... <*give Emily a hug*

My sister stared dumbfounded at the screen. i asked her if that tumblr blog saw anything like this and she begins scrolling. as im watching her i’m faintly aware of a sound... like dripping or maybe clicking? i glance at the screen and scream, shooting up and off my bed as Harvey’s portrait changed to have hyper realistic eyes and teeth. the eyes were blood shot and seemed to follow me and my sister as we shifted on the bed to get away from the laptop.

“w-what the FUCK” she yelled. i clung to her protectively, thoroughly convinced his digital doctor was off his possibly very real rocker and could possibly do something to us.

the mouse moved on its own now. it selected to give Emily a hug and the farmer did just that. the cut scene went on, Harvey’s portrait no longer the disturbing version (well it was still disturbing with the wide eyes and chestier grin but at least now it was pixels again). he said he did all he could for Haley and that he was sorry. he then left my farmer and Emily alone.

“Turn it off.” my sister stated as we continued to stare at the screen. “Turn it off.” I nodded numbly and didn’t even both with the proper exit and just held the power button down.

only it didn’t work.

i held it down for what felt like forever but the laptop was still alive- and it was midnight again.

“Oh fuck no...” She whispered and i scrambled to get my farmer home. when the day ended and the game saved and felt a lump form in my throat. what if Haley is forever dead in my save now? and what about willy? and...

“Wait wheres Alex?” i muttered as i went to town. i bumped into pam and in my frantic scrambling clicked her. to my horror she looked scared. “Did you hear? Alex nearly drowned at the beach! to think, wouldn’t a guy as athletic as him know how to swim?” she then went on her way. i paused for a moment directed my farmer to town again. Alex walked out of the clinic and when i talked to him he seemed fine. gave the normal dialog too.

“Why the hell are you still playing?” My sister shouted from behind me- i didn’t even notice I've scooted directly in front of the laptop, blocking her view. “I thought you were going to exit the game.”

thats right. yeah. turn it off. right.

then Harvey walked out. his sprite was normal but it felt like it was watching me. curious, i moved my farmer down towards Sam’s house. to my horror Harvey was following me.

“Holy shit. HOLY SHIT!” my sister grabbed me and shook me hard. “Holy Shit turn it off! turn it off!”

i stopped my farmer and opened the menu and screamed when i saw Harvy moving towards him even when the game was paused. i unpaused it in time for him to be stopped right next to my innocent little farmer. i kept moving towards Sam’s house.

“Holy shit...” my sister whispered. i told her to check the blog and she did. “What are you going to do?” she asked, her eyes transfixed on her phone.

“Kent is watching out for me.” i reminded her as i entered Sam’s house.

as i expected, there was a cut scene. in it Sam was playing his guitar and Vincent was in the kitchen. Kent walked out and when he saw my farmer he ran over.

“Hes after you now, isn’t he?” he two eyes of the veteran with PTSD looked though the screen at us. i nodded. “Talk to Sam. you have enough hearts with him.” and he was gone, cut scene over.

i looked over and my sister and she nodded, confirming that the blog said something simular- they were instructed to talk to Gus though. i ran strait to Sam’s room and the door opened then closed behind it. Sam stopped playing his guitar and walked over to my farmer.

“Don’t worry, you’ll be safe.” he said. Sebastian stopped playing the key boards and walked over to my farmer as well. i didn’t even notice Sebastian in the cut scene.

“Thats because i wasn’t there.” his dialog box popped up. “Harvey thinks i’m at home.”

both me and my sister just stared at the screen. Sebastian... heard me? we didn’t have much time to think about it as the sound of a crash and something hitting something very hard was heard. My farmer moved on his own with Sam and Seb following him.

outside of Sam’s house was Harvey- the creepy hyper real version- and Kent. Harvey was crawling away and Kent looked like he had just been to war again. when Harvey's sprite was off screen Seb and Sam gave my farmer a hug before they turned to face the screen. Kent joined them, his portrait going back to normal.

“You can close the game now.” he said. “S-Save it first!” Sam interrupted. “If you don’t he’ll chase you again!”

my sister had taken the mouse from me and was directing the farmer back to the farm. we saved and closed the game.

#stardew valley #creepy pasta #i made an attempt #rambles

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mizukikuramoto · 7 years

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“KILL JA̶CKSEPTICEYE | Bio IN̵̛c Redemp T̨I̶̢on” Analysis + Theory

I don’t know if this is going to get any attention in the tag... that’s alright if it doesn’t. I just want to collect my thoughts into an analysis and a theory.

Well well well... Anti is back for more, and we also had the pleasure of seeing Dr.Schnee in action... Let’s just get to the point. Hey g͚̘͉̘̖̼̤͒̓̆̓͌̚͡ĺ̷̞̙̰̳͔̯̼̞̓̆͑̃̚͢͝ȉ̵̬͕̖̥͊̉̐̕̕̚͜͠ẗ̡̻̝͍͇́̑̈́̔̽̄͞͡͡ͅc̷̬̳̭͉͉͚̹̗̏͑̊̌̐̇͛́͡͡ͅh̦̘̪̥̽̾̒̋̉̃̀ͅ b̷̧̠͖̦̗̍͌̑̈́͗̇̕͜͠͡͠i̶̯̭͔̪̭̫͍̣͍̳͑́̈̉͌̆͞ţ̧̭͕̭̙̩͔̭̲͛̈̄̓̊c̬̰̞͔̹̱̙̪̹̳̉͌̀̃̒̑̚͡ḣ̶̨̜͙̜̙̔̈̋̋̕̕͝!̨̛̛̞̠̳͕̌͌̎̓͐͆͢ I’m going to shoot your plans out of the water!

But first, let’s dissect this video a little bit. I’ll be using time stamps as a reference.

[0:39 - 0:45] Jack feels sick and steps out of the video, covering his mouth as if he’s about to throw up.

[0:47] Ze good Doctah takes over! He is confident, per usual.

[1:22 - 1:28] “JackSepticEye. . . he is one of my dear friends.” Normal for an alternative ego to have a correlating relationship with the ‘main ego.’ He expresses an attachment to Jack.

[2:00 - 2:10] “Taking shape, taking form. You do not look the best. You do not look the way you have always looked. You do not look like... yourself...” A bit weird to say that after assuming a stomach problem. It’s as if Dr.Schneep is aware of Jack’s disposition, that Anti is slowly taking control of him and that it’s physically taking a toll on him... well, perhaps appearance wise, but the video in itself is showing that Anti is causing Jack to slowly inch to death.

[2:22] The first glitch is seen. Subtle, sudden. Dr.Schneep appears to be fine.

[2:57 - 3:02] “Always. Always with the mood swings, one time he is one person, the next time he is a completely different person.” I’m probably looking at this too much... I just found this interesting.

[3:07] Ze doctah’s eye is itchy... ehh, it’s probably because Jack’s eye is itchy. Nothing more probably.

[3:41 - 3:45] Dr.Schneep starts to worry about Jack. The appropriate response for a concerning doctor and friend.

[4:14] The second glitch is seen. Longer than the first. It looks like Dr.Schneep is getting a nose bleed, just like how Jack got one from the “Say Goodbye” video. This could be Anti infecting him.

[4:18 - 4:28] “I saved my very good friend Chase. Chase Brody, he went back. He saw his family. Did they take him back? We may never know--” I mean, there’s speculation that Anti already got Chase. I saw a picture of Anti with his hat in a post. Just a thought. Dr.Schneep is getting a bit more concerned.

[4:54] Preeeety specific with the ‘anti’ in anti-coagulants...

[5:03 - 5:12] “If something gets inside your body, and it wants to destroy you from the inside out, there’s only one way to deal with it and that way is SCHNEEPLESTEN.” Things are starting to get serious. It’s just like timestamp [2:00 - 2:10], it’s as if he knows that Anti is slowly gaining more control over Jack. The third glitch shows ze doctah with black eyes, just like Anti’s. Anti has now fully infected Dr.Schneep, and I think he knows it too.

[5:12 - 5:25] “You’re not... looking yourself. It’s getting very warm in here. . . very scary, very, very, nervous.” He is reaaaaally stressing out at this point. He’s trying to compose himself, but he is really worried about Jack and he’s getting flustered. Him saying that it’s very warm is probably due to him panicking.

[5:26 - 5:34] “What is happening? I feel it in my own arm.” Jack and Dr.Schneep are one and the same, they have a connection. Maybe it’s a heightened connection since Anti is inflicting pain on Jack while infecting ze Doctah.

[6:03] The fourth glitch happens. Dr.Schneep is rubbing his neck. It possibly connects to the slit on Anti’s neck? The one he stitched?

[6:32] The fifth glitch happens. Ze doctah is stressed out of his mind.’

[6:38 - 6:43] “You need... get... whatever is inside that brain! Whatever is inside, we need to get it out!” He is fully aware of what is happening to him, and he is stressing out big time because he is going to lose Jack if he doesn’t do anything. The sixth glitch shows Dr.Schneep convulsing, as if possessed.

[6:44 - 6:47] The flickering of the glitches are becoming more frequent, and Anti’s voice emanates from Dr.Schneep’s voice when he says ‘die.’

[6:49 -6:54] “Not again, I will not lose you. I almost lost you once before.” HE’S ADMITTING THAT HE STITCHED AND HEALED ANTI AFTER “SAY GOODBYE!” This is it! After Jack killed himself, Anti took over his body, and ze doctah stitched him back together. It’s still Jack’s body nonetheless! More flickering occurs.

[6:58] Dr.Schneep is freaking out, he has no idea what to do. He’s going to lose Jack. He is panicking.

[7:15] His attempts to save Jack are becoming futile. Systems failure is in the Zalgo/creepy font in cc. The camera flickers dimly to reveal Anti for the first time, smiling at us. Anti knows that he’s going to kill Jack, again.

[7:40 - 7:48] Dr.Schneep grows anxious.Anti speaks out from ze doctah with maniacal laughter. Anti has more control over him.

[7:51 - 8:02] “Ve need to save him-- I need your help!!” Dr.Schneep is being driven by fear and panic. The feedback of the camera is lagging. He knows his demise is coming, and now he’s screaming at the audience to help Jack. He knows that we, the community, can stop Anti, but he alone cannot. Anti continues to speak over ze doctah, telling the audience to save him and not Jack... just like he always wanted us to do. (By the way that was a pretty cool transition from Sean to Anti c:)

[8:05 - 8:10] “Antidepressants, Anti-- depress--press--press--press. We have to depress Anti--and--get him out of there!” He’s trying to fight against Anti’s influence. He doesn’t have that much time, and now he’s trying to go against the glitch to send the community a message to stop Anti.

[8:11 - 8:20] Anti fights back and manipulates Dr.Schneep’s body to hang itself on the cord of his headphones. Ze doctah- thank goodness that this happened- breaks out of Anti’s control and continues to do his best to save Jack. This shows that he was, originally, one of the strongest egos among Jack’s alternatives. Sadly, he’s losing the battle as he is slowly fusing with the glitches of the video.

[8:24 - 8:29] Dr.Schneep is stuck in the control of Anti’s glitch, which is apparent from his repetitive, yet contorted, mention of anti-coagulants. His movement is synced with Anti’s as the camera flickers between ze doctah and Anti, signifying that Anti has full control over him now. Their expressions match, the madness is taking over him with every pulse of a glitch.

[8:30 - 8:46] Ze doctah’s pain is either the connection with Jack slowly dying, or the pain is from Anti which he is inflicting upon him. Anti, in the background, continues to laugh as Dr.Schneep succumbs to the realization that Jack will die, that whatever he did made Jack worse, that his efforts were wasted on someone that was going to die.

This is Anti’s part. I’m just going to list out the important parts he says.

“im tired of playing pretend! sick of it!”

“and you thought you had him back”

“they all follow me”

“ive kept control all of this time!”

“i am eternal, always!”

“fooling around over, and OVER! in fucking circles!”

“mocking me with your ‘glitch bitch’ ” ha yeah shut up Anti you are a glitch bitch

“that doctor thought he could save him but he was MINE! he was weak!”

"who do you think youve been watching all of this time”

“powerless”

“my puppets”

“there are no strings on me”

So... what now.

What does Anti want? What is he going to do? Jack is dead... again. What happened to Dr.Schneeplesten? I have a few ideas as to what’s going to come in the future.

There’s a few new things he mentioned during his little hissy fit: “my puppets” and “there are no strings on me.” He’s talking as if he is a puppeteer, the one pulling strings in this entire predicament. He wants- desires for power, for control, and as we were watching,”powerless” and unable to do much at first, he was ever so slowly getting what he wanted. From this video, it appears that Dr.Schneeplesten is now under Anti’s control, making the strongest of the bunch submit to Anti’s will. It’s just like what ze doctah said: “If one goes down, then they all go down.” Anti is planning to take down every other alternative ego and to break their will so that he could enter easily within them. He was able to successfully infect Dr.Schneep by making him feel helpless. Anti slowly pushed Jack to death and Dr.Schneep couldn’t do anything about it, causing him to spiral into a heap of panic and mistakes. He was mentally broken, and that was when Anti entered. If he was able to do that to him, then think about what he could possibly do to the rest of them?

What I fear is that Anti will use all of the alternative egos against Jack. Jack’s creations will turn against him.They will torture him, just like how Anti did to ze doctah. They will do all the dirty work, and Anti will grab the opportunity to possess Jack and fully control him. In a way, it’s like a computer: if you take down all of the smaller systems in a huge one, then you can hit the center core of the process with ease.

Now... what can we do?

We fight back. We can think two steps ahead of what Anti is planning. We continue to strengthen our will for Jack to come back- especially when he broke his two video streak OH MY GOD WHAT HAVE YOU DONE ANTI YOU BITCH- and to make sure that we #saveseptic/#septicsave rather than save Anti. If we break now in a heap of worry, which is honestly working Anti WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO TO JACK, then we are playing right into the his hands.

Let’s do this for Dr.Schneep! For Jack! We are more than one person. We are a community. We’re not going to let some petty glitch take over Jack!

On another lighter note, I hope that you enjoyed my analysis, interpretation, and theory! I would really love your feedback please dont roast me alive. I’ll be honest, I’m scared to post this over tumblr. It’s moreso that it might get negative feedback, but that’s the risk that I must accept. I never really popped my head and put my input in stuff, especially in Mark’s and Jack’s community, so yeah ^^’

Have a good day all. Stay awesome, you are all amazing.

#jacksepticeye #saveseptic #septicsave #jack #antisepticeye

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