Ohhhhhh NOW THIS MAKES SENSE!!

More on Anti and Flowey.

Okay the recent appearances are making me lean more and more toward the idea of Anti being similar to Flowey in some way, what with all the determination references (especially the look given today during DDLC), and with the recent game (Heartbound or something like that?) that bore a lot of similarities to Undertale. I would love for us to get sympathetic Anti that’s still done horrible things, that kind of character is hard to pull off and I love it.

I wrote a book!

Hello! So for the better part of a year, I've been working on a science fiction book titled Artificial Intelligence, and it's been through beta reading after beta reading, edits, re-writes, and so much more, and it's finally published and available for purchase on Amazon. I'm so incredibly proud of this story, and I just wanted to share it. It's available in eBook form and a paperback physical book! Here's the link!

(Cover by the lovely @stitchtehhedgehog on Instagram)

If you're not too bunged or have a lot of work, would you be interested in doing something about madpat? Maybe with a quite shy reader?

A/N: I’m going with horror here, but I can do accomplice next time if you want? Not huge on doing romantic interest imagines for insanes/evils or the real people, sorry!

“You’re a quiet one.” The grin on his face was the most terrifying thing you’d ever seen, deranged but somehow startlingly present, as if he knew exactly what he was doing, but didn’t care how it hurt anyone else. You leaned away from him, the restraints of your chair not letting you move as far as you would have liked. The small movement made him smirk.

“Aw, that’s funny! You think you can get away from me!” You cringed as he slammed his hands into the back of the chair, his face inches from yours and his breath hot on your skin. “No chance, loyal theorist.”

“Matt, p-please...I-if you can h-hear me...p-please...you’re not l-like this...”

That laugh would stay with you until the day you died. It was the laugh of a lunatic, but it wasn’t senseless. It was dangerously purposeful. You shrunk away, shaking as wide, near-black brown eyes leveled with yours, teeth bared in the ghost of a smile turned grimace.

“Matt. Isn’t. Here.”

His hand was around your throat, tightening by the second.

“And you might think you can save him...”

You couldn’t breathe, you could barely see as his grin grew impossibly bigger.

“But that’s just a theory, isn’t it?”

The mocking tone was lost on you, as the world faded away.

I thought I’d make the information from my survey available in a more fun format. Enjoy! 

WKM: A Closer Look At The Bedroom.

So earlier today I made my general theory post about Ch. 2 of WKM, but I thought I’d spend a little more time now on the bedroom we’re led into. Mark’s room. I’m gonna do what I did with the pictures from the countdown and discuss certain points.

Angle 1:

No. 1: Where does this door lead? Who had access to Mark’s veranda/balcony? If it’s not a veranda/balcony, then what is it? Clearly an outdoor area, but where outside? Is it the same balcony we’ve been walking around with the Mayor and the Colonel?

No. 2: The books and the envelope on the ground. One of the books is wide open, thrown down apparently. Was it being searched for information or did it fall open? And what about the black book, what’s in it? What about the open and presumably empty envelope? Was it always empty or did the contents get taken?

Angle 2:

No. 1: The bed is thoroughly messed up. Did Mark come in here to sleep and get disturbed, maybe get into a fight? Because I highly doubt the bed would look like that after a scuffle if he hadn’t just been in it and had to get out in a hurry.

No. 2: Another open book on the ground. So many books but no bookshelf.

And now, the table and the pictures:

No. 1: We can piece together a sort of story from the pictures, or at least understand that the Colonel, the Mayor, and Mark were at one point good friends (Why else would he keep these pictures in his private room?). But the last picture doesn’t feature the Colonel, so it’s from after the falling out. 

No. 2: The Seer is in this middle picture, hanging on Mark’s arm. The Colonel and the Mayor don’t look too happy about this. Do they not like her? Or are they jealous? The Mayor almost seems more nervous than angry.

No. 3: The picture of the Colonel alone, which we discover a few seconds later is the only broken picture, is turned down. And the placement of all of these pictures is very deliberate, laid out to tell us a story by whoever ransacked the room (And from this table, we can say it was ransacked. This is too cut and dry to be random). But why turn down the Colonel’s solo picture and none of the others? Was this done by someone who doesn’t like the Colonel? Or was it done by the Colonel himself, ashamed of what happened between him and Mark?

Overall, the room is curious. This whole thing is curious, and I love it.

hahahaha

wilford: i have made robot me: you fucked up a perfectly good wilford is what you did. look at it. it’s got overwhelming guilt and remorse for its actions

A/N: I smell a fandom fire! What a good time for some nicely roasted angst!

Dark knew what this feeling was. He was all too familiar with it, wasn’t he? All the same, the familiar panic began to rise in his throat, and he stood suddenly at his desk, before grunting and hunching over it, one hand slamming down into the surface, cracking it in an attempt to steady himself, but it felt like the world was spinning.

It was very fast this time.

“Dark?”

Oh, no. No, Wil, you don’t need to see...

But Wilford was leaning heavily on the door frame, bubblegum-smile missing and face pale, eyes wide and deathly scared. Dark knew that look.

“It would seem it isn’t just me,” he said softly, trying to come around the desk to join him, but this caused the room to turn sickeningly on its side. He slid to the ground with a groan. Wilford made an effort to come to him at the same time, and collapsed to his knees halfway there.

“What’s happening? What’s...?”

“We’re dying, Wilford.”

The tears that had already been forming leaked out and onto his cheeks as he whispered, not even strong enough to summon his usual smile, “It’s...but it’s all a joke, isn’t it? It’s always been a joke, hasn’t it?”

“A cruel joke,” Dark agreed, slumping further onto the ground. He vaguely made out Wilford collapsing fully, heard him wheezing. “It’s not fair...it’s never been fair.”

They were quiet for a moment.

Suddenly, Wilford chuckled, and the sound of it brought real tears to Dark’s long-dried eyes. He didn’t know he could still do that. How interesting.

“Not quite the blaze of glory I had planned, is it, Dames?”

“So you do remember.”

He’d have nodded if he still could have. He couldn’t even see anymore, really. Vague, grey and blue and red shapes. He didn’t know if Wil could still hear him.

“Thank you, William.”

“It’s been my honor. Damien. Celine.”

There were no other words. Everything went black.

“Dark? I have some new concepts to go over with you, and we need to discuss this week’s schedule.” Bim knocked on his door, and was surprised when it gave way under his hands. Frowning, he stepped into the office.

It was oddly empty. The fire was still burning in the white marble fireplace on the far end of the room, and there were papers sitting on the desk, as if someone had been halfway through them and been interrupted. The chair was pushed back carelessly, and the thick rug was wrinkled in one corner.

Bim walked slowly over to the desk and picked up one of the papers. For a moment, it looked as if he were reading and old article, the tabloid headline stating “MURDERS AT MARKIPLIER MANOR REMAIN UNSOLVED”.

And then, the page was blank.

Bim wondered why the egos never used this office. It was nice, save for the broken desk and mirror, very stately. Fit for a politician.

Perhaps Google would like it. Always best to offer the boss the best spot in the building, and his current room wasn’t nearly enough. Why had they stuck him in that little side room again? Why had he let them? Maybe he liked the privacy.

He wandered off to find him, feeling vaguely as if he’d forgotten something important. But he was sure it was nothing.

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

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

“Who killed Markiplier, indeed?”

well… who was it…?

OH SHIT HERE WE GO AGAIN

FUCKFUCKFUCKFUCK-