The Colonel’s Full Name

Late.

A/N: Quick little drabble based on a sketch by @piligy

It was quiet, but that wasn't unusual. Most people preferred to work with some sort of soft background noise, music or a podcast, just something to drown out the rest of the world. He didn't need that. For him, the world was as quiet or as loud as he chose. He sighed, shuffling through the papers in front of him again. He'd been at it for hours now, trying to go over every detail of their latest plan, keeping track of subscriber counts, of tour schedules and show dates, of time since their last...encounters. It was infuriatingly scattered and unorganized. The egotisical bastard had always been hard to predict, but now that he wasn't...him, anymore, it was almost impossible to know definitively if his predictions were going to be accurate. He stood, rubbing his eternally stiff neck as he cracked it again with a grunt. Something else cracked behind him, and his lips quirked into a small smile. He strode slowly to the end of the room, taking his suit jacket off the hook and shrugging it back over his shoulders as the walked. Walking back to the desk and toward the fireplace behind it, he found himself studying the large mirror over the mantle. It was ornately framed, once silver but now tarnished with age, and bore several large cracks across the surface of the glass. No one dared to ask him why he had kept such an old, broken decoration instead of replacing it. He would never explain if they did. Right now, though, the cracks in the glass weren't the most interesting part of the old mirror. A silohette was staring back at him, and it wasn't his reflection. It was indistinct, blurred like an out-of-focus camera picture, but more fluid, like standing smoke. The fuzzy apendage that might have been it's hand was lying flat against the glass.

"You're up late, old friend." His voice echoed more than it should have in the small room. He took another step, adjusting his jacket as he leaned forward on the desk. "I'm not surprised, really. You never did like to see me working late, did you?" He ran a hand through his disheveled hair, and with it pulled back, he almost looked like a different person. The shadow-y figure made a gesture that he seemed to understand. "Not yet. Not just yet. There is still much to do. But I'm taking care of it, aren't I?" He rounded the desk again, and put his hand on the glass, touching it with just his fingertips. The glass creaked as if it were under great pressure, as if, had he put his hand flat against it, it would shatter completely. The figure drew back slightly from the touch, and he raised an eyebrow at them. "Oh, but what's the matter? Don't you trust me anymore? I told you..." The monochrome room seemed to suddenly glow blue and red, the colors shaking unsteadily. His voice seemed to have too many layers, as if several people were talking at once. "We would do this together."

About the recent Dark happenings on Mark’s channel and my lack of theorizing.

I think this time, I’m just gonna watch the fandom explode and enjoy it, I’m almost never on the outside of the theorizing thing. I’ll chip in to other theories if anyone wants my input, though. :)

Today’s Teaser (Sept 7, 2020)

FRIENDS. THINGS ARE HAPPENING. I’M BACK ON MY THEORIST SHIT AGAIN.

So I watched the clip several times, at varying speeds, and tried to transcribe what I heard:

[loud screech, metal on metal]

[crash, again seems to be metal on metal]

[hiss, as of steam being released]

[car engine revving]

Unknown Voice: Everything is happy...

[sound of a train going over tracks, faint train whistle]

Unknown Voice: [unclear] living his life to come through...

So that second voice line is one I couldn’t quite make out. The top two interpretations I got were “He’s living his life to come through” and “He’s giving his life to come too.”

I also snapped a picture of whatever flashed on screen in the darkness:

So you can’t see much here, but when I brighten it...

A door? When the image keeps moving, there are lights at regular intervals along the roof. Coupled with the sound, my guess is this is a train compartment, possibly in the style of Murder on the Orient Express.

Are we getting a new adventure? Possibly another murder mystery?

Such interesting developments, and with Halloween right around the corner...

So Question.

Would anyone be interested in commissioned writing from me? I was thinking of looking into comprable work pricing and opening up to writing fiction (fan and original), and some nonfiction, for commissions. Is that something anyone would be willing to do?

AMAZING

so ummm… what the fuck is going on

Not Exactly A Fic

But basically an idea. From this lovely video by Editing Is Everything (who I LOVE): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zhbZ-qQIunk

SO! Following the idea set in the description, I thought I’d put together a playlist for this musical. Feel free to edit and add to this, I just thought it would work for telling the story a little bit.

Act 1

1: Sick of Losing Soulmates (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mHUIoikgKT0&list=PL36142F51F19698FC&index=12)

2: Tourist (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8B80XV7Ndt8&list=PL1T1SwRfufApqfPnpOQ6z1Z320_n66E5f&index=1)

3: Human (But imagine like...Jon is flashing back to when he and Dodie first dated) (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LL8tyObkRvk&index=8&list=PL36142F51F19698FC)5:

4:  a love song/a non love song (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fcYJA8qvW7k)

5:  Birds (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xvlSVDiSnrI)

6:   Absolutely Smitten (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0TAJwGniuUs&index=26&list=PL36142F51F19698FC)

Act 2

7:   Would You Be So Kind? (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8Ypnr33sEmg&list=PL36142F51F19698FC&index=7)

8:   Waving Through a Window (But with Jon instead of Ben, though Ben is lovely, he doesn’t fit) (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bstxfxXN6qA)

9:   Dear Happy (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xQVXm-imzoA)

10:  Stitches (with kind of a sad acceptance more than any kind of trying to get her back) (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nEcyghKk0ok)

11:    I want to Fall in love with (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=th393UBVSMY&index=21&list=PLUcJ_HmO2bE8pXBA6rpczccmB4od8hGKD)

Current theory: 

A tulpa, which is a thought form. It’s something created by thoughts, stories, and ideas. As we all know, an idea is hard to kill, and it’s ever changing, never solid, hence the glitching. It also explains why Anti only seems to be physical on recordings, or when he’s possessing Jack. 

(Today’s video I’m counting as happening inside coma!Jack’s head.)

Okay but for real???? I wanna know what the actual fuck Anti is

DAMIEN

In case you’re missing the oddball excitement that’s going on right now. Also, @markiplier is hanging out in the chat with us now!

Chained together, running through an underground (most likely) tunnel

...prison break?

OH MY GO D

OH MY GOD

OH MY FUCKING GOD

But No One Came.

A/N: Guess who got into Undertale? And of course the first thing I write about it is an angsty Sans piece. So! This takes place in the early part of a genocide run. Enjoy!

"undyne...we've got a problem." Sans frowned a bit as he spoke into the phone. He stared up into the trees as he told her about the human...or what looked like one. Because, clearly that thing wasn't human. It wasn't a monster, either, though, which was the unsettling part. It was...nothing. Empty. It sent a shiver down his spine when he'd first seen it. But the woman behind the door had called it human, so he'd supposed... But then they were so cold, and silent. The look in their eyes... "yeah...yeah, we'll try. don't worry about paps," he half smiled, the looming purple door appearing at the end of the path, "I'll make sure he's not in the way of the fight. he's busy setting up a puzzle before waterfall, and they'll never get that far." He nodded. "yeah, you watch yourself too, 'dyne. i'll see ya when i see ya." He hung up and glanced up at the door. He could really use some cheering up...a joke or two never hurt anyone, and he could warn the old girl to take care of herself. He knocked a couple of times on the door. Nothing. Sans frowned again. That...never happened. She was always here. Maybe she'd gone to do something? He knocked again, harder this time. Again, there was no response. "lady? you there?" Nothing. Something felt heavy behind his ribs. Something was wrong. It was then that he spotted a track in the snow. It looked as if the snow had been pushed aside by the door opening...but...it was always locked. He'd tried again and again, but... He tried it now...the handle turned. The door was heavy, but he could move it. This didn't feel right.

"hello?" It was dark in here...silent. He walked for a long time, down a hall that looked darker and darker with every step, until he came to a doorway to a small room, with nothing in it but a patch of dying grass. The door on the other side was still open. He took a few cautious steps closer. It smelled a bit like...butterscotch? Or maybe cinnamon. The feeling he’d had when the door opened was getting worse with every step he took. "lady?" But then he saw something that made his bones go cold. A pile of dust lay in the middle of the room, with a footprint in the center of it. That thing... Was in Snowdin. Was heading for his brother.

He was running before he knew what he was doing. He passed through a doorway and suddenly he wasn't in the dark place anymore, but in Snowdin. "PAPYRUS!" There was no one around. No one, not a single monster. Even Monster Kid, the stupid child that he was, had finally wandered away. It was too quiet in his town, except for the unusually loud and frantic echo of his own voice. He didn’t know if he’d ever yelled like this, ever had every fiber of his being on as high alert as it was now. "DAMMIT, PAPS, WHERE ARE YOU?! ANSWER ME! PAPYRUS!" He wrenched open their front door and raced up the stairs, shoving Papyrus' door aside with a BANG. But he wasn't there. No, no, no, no, no... He turned and ran out the door, but instead of appearing on the landing, he was running down the path out of town. Papyrus had been working on something near Waterfall. Maybe he'd taken refuge. Maybe he'd found Undyne. Maybe...maybe... He skidded to a stop.

A red scarf had been kicked to the side of the road. There was scattered piles and smears of dust, not even enough for a proper burial. For a long moment he couldn't move. He couldn't make a sound. It couldn't be real, there was no way, he couldn't be...he wasn't...he wasn't... He was screaming, and there was beam after beam of power and light bombarding the ground, the trees, the sky, the rocky walls of the Waterfall entrance. The ground was shaking and he was screaming and everything was on fire. He came to his sense after a while, and the screaming cut out suddenly, turning into heavy breathing. And the heavy breathing became sobbing as he crumpled to the ground, clutching the scarf. He stopped himself eventually. Stood slowly. Shakily stuffed the scarf into one of his pockets, resting his hand on top of it. He stared around him at the carnage he'd wrought. Stupid, goody-two-shoes, stickler-for-the-rules, spaghetti-loving, pun-hating...wonderful Papyrus. The poor guy had tried to make friends with even this thing. He probably hadn’t even put up a fight at all. He’d probably spent his last breath believing that he could change them, make them good again... No. No more of that. There was only one thing in the world that was worth his energy now. No more breaks. It was time to end this.